Snow Day, Day Three: The Emotional Rollercoaster

Wednesday evening, amidst the chaos of feeding my four kids under seven, I received a text from my Girl Scout co-leader: Are we ready for day four of snow days? Let’s just say that the timing was less than ideal. My husband was working late, and solo dinners with the kids are no small feat. Between making dinner while preventing the house from being destroyed, keeping the baby safe, and serving the meal (which mostly involves me catering to everyone’s needs), I barely manage to inhale my cold food before it’s time for baths and bedtime.

Dinner is usually a two-person operation in our house, but when it’s just me, the challenge feels monumental—especially now that my husband has gone vegan, which often means a second round of cooking and dishes. So, receiving the news that school would be closed again, on top of an already exhausting evening, sent me over the edge. Dinner somehow got done, and we were making good progress with the bedtime routine until everything boiled over. While I was cleaning up, the kids completely wrecked their room, and I lost it. I yelled. It wasn’t my finest parenting moment, but I quickly regrouped, explained to the kids why I was frustrated, and apologized.

Parenting isn’t about being perfect—it’s about learning, growing, and repairing when things go wrong. Over the years, I’ve stopped beating myself up for losing my temper. Mistakes don’t make me a bad parent; they make me human. What matters is the repair: intentional communication, connection, and reassurance.

Later, as I folded laundry, I finally let myself process the whirlwind of emotions from the past few days. These snow days had been long and challenging, yet also filled with sweet, irreplaceable moments. The week had been an emotional rollercoaster, but by bedtime, I had found my way back to acceptance.

My husband finished his work and joined me for some much-needed downtime. We binge-watched Yellowstone (our current obsession) and stayed up way too late. At one point, he asked, “Popcorn?” I laughed and replied, “Yes. It’s basically Friday—these kids aren’t going back to school anytime soon!” We shared a laugh, bonding over our shared exhaustion and the decision to surrender to the chaos rather than fight it.

The next morning, on less than four hours of sleep, I woke up feeling hopeful and renewed. My husband unexpectedly had the day off (thanks to a national day of mourning), and our babysitter was coming for a few hours. Knowing I wouldn’t be facing the day alone made all the difference.

This snow day reminded me that even in the chaos, there’s room for joy and gratitude when you embrace the moment as it is—not as you wish it would be.