A bad day.
A day I hope to forget in the near future.
It was the day that Bonus almost did not make it to his next birthday.
I was feeling a little down already for reasons I'm not going to get into. Plus, Mr. Incredible was in Denver for business, so I was feeling a little lonely. It was overcast all day, and the sun never poked its head through the clouds. I think the high was around 23.
In addition, the explosion called Christmas decorating was strewn all over my house. I wanted and needed to complete the decorating madness and get all the bins and boxes put back in the attic, but I knew that even if I did finish covering our world with tinsel, the boxes and bins would have to sit there until Mr. Incredible returned home and delivered them into the attic. After I finished unloading each bin or box, I would place the empty container up in the kids' playroom.
Mr. Incredible's father started sending us nutcrackers for Christmas many moons ago, and last Christmas he sent an extra large one. It was packed in a huge box with seven hundred million packing peanuts, and when it came time to put Mr. Nutcracker up in the attic, I put him back in the peanuts he came in.
And that was my first mistake...
Yes, in fact, my forehead and my sign do say STUPID. It also says RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, I'M A WALKING DISASTER and varied other messages of doom.
Packing peanuts. Styrofoam. The bane of mothers everywhere. Only second in horror to the dreaded plastic Easter grass.
I hate packing peanuts. I made do with them last year because I was OVER the Christmas decorations, we didn't have any more newspaper, and the Christmas decorations had to be put away THAT day (I know I'm not the only one who gets like this.). I could not wait for a trip to Lowes for an extra large bin and some bubble wrap. Mr. Nutcracker had to go in the attic that very minute, and up he went bathed in styrofoam nuts.
When I pulled Mr. Nutcracker from his resting place, Bonus, of course, immediately noticed the styrofoam and scooped out a handful to investigate it.
"Mama, what is this stuff?"
"It's packing material."
And that should have been my clue to not walk directly into Mistake #2. The distraction of Christmas decorations were screaming too loudly. I did not hear the little voice in my head saying, "Get that box and those packing peanuts into the recycling bin immediately or pay the price for your ignorant mistake." You don't hear voices? Hmpf. Moving along.
I put the box in the playroom and forgot about it.
Until two days later...
I was down in the kitchen decorating and making a test batch of Golden Crack (more on this to later), when I heard Bonus' excited voice from upstairs.
And I thought nothing about it at first because it was cold enough, it had looked like a snowy sky earlier, and I was stirring a caramel sauce that I did not want to burn. Then, when my attention could be moved from the pot of sugary, buttery goodness to the window, I saw no snowflakes.
I moved from the kitchen toward the stairs. As I emerged from the kitchen, I looked at the foyer and nearly cried. Apparently, the "snow" was Bonus dropping packing peanuts from the overlook to the foyer. When I got to the top of the stairs, I named the foyer small potatoes.
I couldn't quite capture the blizzard. You can't see the full scope of the storm, but, trust me, we will be talking about this particular round of frozen precipitate for a long time around these parts.