I mean, yes, there was the snow, and I'm really not a fan. But my sweet hubby cleaned off my car before he left for work, so that when it was time to take Kaylee to school, there wasn't too much snow to deal with and no scraping that had to be done. We actually left early enough to be able to drive slooowly and carefully to school and had Kaylee there early, which is a pretty amazing feat in and of itself.
Isabelle and I then headed across town, on the un-plowed streets, to Sams for a little grocery shopping. (I like to buy our meat there, as it's cheaper than anywhere else in town, even when other stores run sales.) However, everyone must have been stockpiling for the predicted snow, because there was NO ground beef, NO ground turkey, NO chicken of any kind (breast, legs, thighs, NONE). Needless to say, no meat was bought. :(
Dillons was next for a few other groceries and then I had Isabelle home by noon, so I could feed her some milk, cuddle her up, and get her to sleep in time to have a 3 hour nap before we had to go get Kaylee.
Wait? What's that your saying? You can already foresee the silliness of me thinking I had a great plan all laid out?
First, after nursing and cuddling, Isabelle was all smiles and no sleepies.
So I laid her in her play gym to play and I went out to shovel the walkway and driveway. (Which may I just interject I am DAMN PROUD OF!)
I finished shoveling, still feeling very accomplished. (Take that, Monday!)
(And yes, I do have a husband that could have shoveled. And who would have shoveled. So no "oh that poor girl out there shoveling her driveway." I chose to. Didn't mind it at all.)
So back to that nap I was planning on. I get Isabelle cuddled up, nurse her again, get ready to cuddle here, and here comes the spit up. Lots of it. All down her shirt. All down mine. In my hair. All on my bed that we were sitting on. We get up, so I can begin the changing of clothes (her and I), the bathing (her first, me later, after everything else is dealt with), the changing of sheets. But before any of that happens, another huge wave of spit up. This time all over the carpet. (I know. You're so jealous of my Monday.)
Soooo, an hour later, Isabelle is stripped down, bathed, re-clothed. I've at least changed clothes and thrown the now hardened spit up soaked hair into a pony tail. Bed sheets have been dealt with. The carpet has been scrubbed at with water, though I don't know how one cleans spit up out of the carpet. Eww.
And it's nurse Isabelle, cuddle up, hope for nap time, Round Three.
And it's finally successful.
Oh, but that driveway I was so proud of? It's starting to look like this, with no sign of it slowing down:
And with that, I'm off to shower!