Even before Al Roker predicted an Arctic Winter Snow Blast for my neck of the woods, I made the call. Keep in mind I have no meteorology training. (Really, I couldn’t even spell it without spell check!) I don’t make it a hobby of studying climate transitions and low pressure systems. I’m more of a high pressure system myself. (Ask The Dad.) I don’t read The Farmer’s Almanac nor do I stalk the weather station at 8:08, 9:08, 10:08 or any other :08 time! I don’t have any special gift.
How did I predict the weather, then? I use two very accurate devices: The Daughters. They have a very special gift. It’s better and more precise than a barometer!
Let me explain…VERY early last Monday morning, I woke up to The Daughters sword fighting with the Wii. Not ON the Wii – with the Wii … slicing and dicing each other with the controllers. When I calmed that squall, I noticed that Daughter 2 had her hair done (in pigtails – her specialty), had her boots and pants on, was eating breakfast (a cheese stick dipped in yogurt) and had applied blue eye shadow to her eye brows. She announced that she was ready for school, so they could play the Wii – “That’s the rule!” she reminded me. Oh. She also was not wearing a shirt.
Meanwhile, Daughter 1 was convinced that it was pajama day at school and she was wearing her polar bear pajamas and what was I going to do about it? Then she adjusted her flip flops over her mismatched socks and took a bite of bread with butter and raisins. “It’s fruit, Momma! That’s good for breakfast!”
I shook my head at The Dad and said, “6 inches.” He looked hurt and murmured something about it being cold in the winter and that I needed to cut him some slack.
I shook my head and explained what I meant to him. ( OK - I explained what I meant after I showered and dressed and put on my makeup and dried my hair. I thought it would be good for him to meditate on the phrase “6 inches!”.)
“See?” I offered as he lay in bed with the covers over his head, “The Daughters are little barometers and this weirder-than-usual behavior means one thing: Snow. If it were spring, I’d be clamored down in a bathtub somewhere with a mattress over my head! They have a gift!” I kissed him through the down comforter to assure him that it wasn’t personal.
And sure enough, that evening on the news, the local weatherman predicted that we’d have an outpouring of snow by week’s end. At least that’s what I thought he said because The Daughters were drying their roller blades in the dryer.
The Daughters (or kids in general) are not the only predictors of extreme weather. If you miss the evening forecast, head to your local Wal-marts! The crazier-than-usuals head to the Wal-marts when the weather’s about to get hairy.
Bread, milk and cereal apparently ward off bad weather. And there’s always a run for these perishable good-luck charms. Personally, when I know that bad weather is coming, I stock up on chocolate, frozen pizzas and toilet paper. Because even if he power goes out, those frozen pizza pies are still really yummy! And if you run out of toilet paper, the end is very near. Very near.
And, just as I predicted (prior to the Weather Channel, I might add!), we got well over 6 inches of snow. Here’s where the difference between The Daughters and the Doppler Radar 42 really becomes apparent: The radar clears up after the storm passes. The Daughters? Not so much. As evidenced by the 27 naked Barbies in our bathtub!
After the snowfall, we were given a snow day… I found out about this snow day at about 6 AM through a text. So, I turned off the alarm and went back to sleep. Five minutes later, Daughter 1 came running into our room announcing that it snowed! It snowed! It snowed!! Daughter 2 came running in behind her chanting, “Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!” Then they looked at each other and said, “Scream contest!” And they proceeded to have a scream contest! At 6 AM. In our bedroom.
The Dad slept through it all. What do you know? He does have a special gift.
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