I was a stay-at-home mom for nine years. NINE. YEARS. And it seemed more like 20 while I was living it. I think that’s because parenting is tough, and when you feel isolated and bored on a daily basis, month after month, the time does not pass swiftly. At least that was my experience. I know many moms who absolutely love being at home with little ones. And I have to admit, now that I’m working full-time again, there are moments when I long for the never-get-out-of-my-pajamas-because-the-baby-will-just-vomit-on-my-clothes-anyway kind of day.

So when our freak spring blizzard shut down work and school, I was ecstatic that I’d have the chance to spend a quality day with my kids. With Norman Rockwell as my guide, I planned everything out: I’d prepare delicious pancakes and bacon for breakfast, and then we’d have family fun creating the perfect snowman in the back yard while our lab frolicked among the drifts. The boys wouldn’t even be tempted to play Xbox because the lure of board games would be too strong to resist, and the girls would while away their afternoon painting with watercolors. Perhaps a pot roast for dinner? We’d finish our day with a rousing game of Charades – fireside, of course!

Well, Normal Rockwell can suck it. I did manage to get breakfast on the table, though only two of my four children woke up in time to enjoy it. At noon, I chucked the batter and told my just waking teenager he’d need to fend for himself if he wanted lunch. And I was able to spend about an hour outside, though shoveling the sidewalk and driveway do not a snowman make. My daughters eventually joined me, but by then I was suffering from lower back strain and frostbite, and had to go back inside. They only lasted another 30 minutes before calling it quits. Apparently, the snow was too powdery for anything except snow angels and hiding our dog’s BM’s.

An afternoon game of Monopoly started off fine but soon reduced to several wanna-be real estate moguls bickering over shady deals and money-laundering scams. At 3 p.m., I called a moratorium on all supposed family activities and ordered everyone to go enjoy his or her favorite electronic device in solitude. Just shut the hell up and leave me alone! When my husband asked about dinner, I nearly bit his head off. Bedtime could not come soon enough.

So, even though the day didn’t pan out quite as I’d hoped, and Norman Rockwell totally stood me up, I was reaffirmed in my decision to return to work. I’m definitely a better (and happier) mom when I get to leave the house. Peace out.