I can see now how the whole Unabomber thing happened.

I woke up to this:



And this:



And briefly felt like this:




For all the amazement and shrieks of delight that a heavy snow elicited from me as a child, I have now gone to the exact opposite side of the excitement spectrum over this issue. Snow as a kid: +7,058 Joy. Snow as an adult: -7,058 Joy. The shortest days of the year suddenly turn into very, awfully long ones, filled with "Can I go play in the snow NOW?" and "I have to PEE!" as soon as that last zipper is zipped, and finally "Just go watch one more movie and stop fighting over the two My Little Ponies, my GOD, they are identical in every way." The isolation, at least for me, is extreme. I can see how people forced (for whatever reason...either the force of others or the crazy voices in their own head) to live completely alone can lose it, maybe just a little bit. That the Unabomber came up with a conspiracy theory and then sent out packages that exploded with nails and shrapnel or whatever the hell he did after living in a one-room shack in the wilderness doesn't seem quite so insane when I am staring down the barrel of a twelve hour day alone. I pride myself on getting things done, so much so that I have a schedule for nearly every day of the week. Go to the gym every weekday? Check. Drop off/pick up from preschool, followed by a quick lunch and nap time? Check. Art and reading time after naps, followed by dinner and family togetherness and bedtime? Check check check. But I am rapidly learning that my confident, pulled-together self rapidly frays into tiny bits and pieces when faced with the dreaded Snow Day. What should we do? We can't go anywhere, so that leaves...???? I never really know. I settle for a drawn out breakfast hour, then maybe some coloring and painting, moving quickly from one fun idea to the next, and before I know it we have run out of things to do. Which is why I came up with this next doozy of an idea. In hindsight (looking out of the laundry room, might I add) this maybe wasn't the best use of our time at home. Ella sure had fun, and God help me, Charlie had fun, and aside from the lip gloss now staining my bedspread, I actually enjoyed it. Ask me again how I feel about these precious memories when the lipstick doesn't wash out. And now, I give you...The Snow Day That We All Got Makeovers With Mom's Makeup.

Getting started...the possibilities for color combinations are ENDLESS! And yes, that is a Christmas dress. At the end of January. What of it?









We even learned about testing/matching colors on our hands first. This resulted in two cream blush covered hands. Guess what? Cream blush is apparently soap AND water proof! Aha!



Wait, who is that sneaking in on the action?



Well, hello.



Once Charlie got his hands on a brush and a compact and a tube of lip gloss, nothing was spared.

The bed.



My legs.



My face.



His face and my legs.



But Ella had the most fun a little girl can possibly have, using grown up makeup meant for grown up faces, feeling so fancy and like such a "grown up lady woman", as she put it. As she posed and pursed and twirled in her Christmas dress and hooker makeup, I figured that even if I had to do seven loads of laundry to rinse out the stains, it was worth it.