Happy second day of March, 2009.  It is snow day #4. I know this, because I opened my laptop early this morning to find cheerful emails from all manner of school administrators making me aware of this fact.  It is Monday.  I just spent 2.5 days with my beloved children… and now we are given even more time to bond. This wouldn’t be so terrible, but for the fact that this *surprise!* three day weekend comes a mere 7 days after a February school vacation that turned into an extended funfest due to an additional day of lifelong learning lost to snow. Nine days of vacation…only to be capped off by a snow day last Monday.

I think I speak for parents up and down the northeast coast when I lovingly plead to our school administrators: “For the love of all that is holy, please keep our children for 5 consecutive days! “

So this morning, after lying in bed twittering away on my laptop from under the covers (not nearly as filthy as it sounds), and praying that my cherubs would stay asleep for as long as humanly possible…I was suddenly and noisily jolted back to reality by my 10 year old son, informing me that we had snow in our kitchen. Snow. In my kitchen.  The door, whose closing mechanism has never worked as God intended, had apparently blown open at some point during the night and our kitchen floor was covered in the fluffy white stuff.

Him:  Mom!  There’s snow in the kitchen.

Me:   What??!

Him:  Yeah.  The kitchen door is open and the snow blew in through the screen door.

Ok, so this is disturbing for numerous reasons.

Reason #1. He had not thought to actually close the door after noticing that it was open.

Reason #2.  Its close resemblance to a conversation between the 10 year old and myself that took place only 5 days ago that went as follows:

Him:  Mom!  There’s a dead mouse in the toilet upstairs.

Me:   What??!

Him:  Yeah. I thought someone took a dump until I saw the tail.

*please note: I had a lot of difficulty actually typing the word “dump” due to my own uptight, well-mannered Protestant upbringing regarding matters of excrement. But that’s what the child said.

Reason #3. Had the glass panel been installed into the storm door in a timely manner as planned, the snow would not have been able to blow into my kitchen  The handyman never showed – surprise! – (see “It’s Raining Men” for further details on my continuing handyman-related frustrations), and by the time I found someone to help it had already snowed more than once, and the storm door panel was a mere three feet from the kitchen door, buried, sadly, beneath an avalanche of frozen, white precipitation. Presumably, it would be accessible for installation after the spring thaw.  And who the hell needs a storm door at that point?

Temptation abounds.

The man who had finally noticed my storm door problem and offered to come to my assistance was the same man who also invited me to jet off to Aspen with him. In fact, I could have been there right now. Today. Tomorrow. And the next day.  The babysitter could have been here with the kids on this fourth snow day of the 2008-2009 school season.  Shoveling snow in my kitchen at 9 AM.  Her.  Not me!  Aspen man was kind enough to send me a photo direct from paradise just this morning.

What??!

How sweet of him to taunt me.

My glamourous life.

So, the reason I am at home shoveling snow off of my kitchen floor today is because I am, obviously, not in Aspen. And why am I not in Aspen?  Because of my affectionate feelings toward a man who has something money cannot buy…A smile that makes me melt.  And with those six little words…POOF!  bye bye Aspen.

Dammit.  I hate that!

Therefore, alas, I find myself in one of those situations made possible only by the illogical palpitations of the heart.  Shoveling snow off of my kitchen floor with a spatula…while the manwho has made numerous noteworthy

attempts to sweep me off my feet enjoys his lunch in vacation paradise, at 10,000 feet.  Sans me. Not that

"Who says I'm not domestically capable??"

I’m complaining or anything. I’d totally rather be here with a man whose smile makes me melt than in Aspen with a man who asked me at least once a month (for over a year) the million dollar question: “Do you ski?”  He was either not paying enough attention to ever recall my answer: (“Yes, but not all that well!”) or else had asked so many other women the same question that it was all one big blur of dating information. He was nice enough, but come on.  I mean, the guy with the melty smile may not be without his imperfections, but there is something undeniably hot about a man who, within three days of knowing you, has committed to memory not only the names, ages and gender of your three children…but also the fact that you have, yes, THREE children. As a single mother who is dating, I can tell you that I like a man who pays attention to the details of my life. For example, the fact that I have children.  Dreams do come true.

I know these events are all somehow related and there is a lesson in here for me.  Storm doors.  Snow Days.  Aspen. Men. Kids. School Administrators. Snow in my kitchen.  I am suddenly feeling woozy.

I need air!

Which shouldn’t be too tough to access since there is still a screen in my storm door.

Excuse me while I saunter into my luxurious kitchen to build a snowman who can fix things. I think I’ll give him button eyes, a sweet Twizzler licorice smile, a cashmere scarf…and a nice, big, succulent cucumber, ummm………..nose.

Let it snow, baby!  My kitchen’s got it all over Aspen.  Whatever!