Growing up in Utah, I can recall only a few snow days during my childhood, and I often wondered if the school bus was equipped with a snow plow. My time in Minnesota mirrored this experience. However, living in Western Oregon has been a different story; even the slightest dusting of snow can result in a complete shutdown of daily life. I understand the limitations of the local infrastructure, but when schools close for four days, it feels like the universe is collapsing. During snow days, I find myself traversing a series of emotional stages that closely resemble the Kübler-Ross model of grief, typically associated with those facing terminal illness. Here’s how it unfolds:
Note: If you’re a parent who relishes snow days and the chaos they bring, you might want to skip this. The following sentiments are not for you, and please refrain from dampening our venting sessions in the comments.
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Denial
The initial shock hits when you receive the notification that classes are canceled. You immediately suspect an error and cling to the hope that you’ll still be dropping the kids off as usual. You check multiple sources, tune into the radio, and pray until the truth sinks in: your plans for the day have vanished. -
Anger
This phase kicks in when you break the news to your children, who respond with ecstatic cheers while you feel a tightening in your chest. Now, the day has transformed into a logistical nightmare. If your job is still operational, you might attempt to call in sick or bring the kids along, which turns your workday into a test of endurance, as you juggle emails while trying to quiet down the mini-chaos around you. Emotions during this stage often include: “Why me? This isn’t fair!” or “Who can I blame?” and the ever-present thought, “Forget this! I’m going to build an igloo in the backyard.” -
Bargaining
The third stage is marked by attempts to negotiate with reality. You might resort to handing over a tablet, suggesting a movie on Amazon Prime, or promising mac and cheese as a distraction. These efforts are all about carving out a few moments to catch up on work or tackle the mountain of laundry that threatens to bury you alive. -
Depression
When you finally concede that productivity is out the window — after spending hours yelling, “Close the door! You’re letting the heat out!” while mopping up melted snow — you’ve entered the fourth stage. You feel an overwhelming sense of despair, thoughts like, “What’s the point in trying?” or “I’ll never recover from this” may cross your mind. (In my last snow day experience, I hit this wall around noon; some parents may last longer.) -
Acceptance
In the final stage, you come to terms with the situation. Your plans for the day have been derailed, and you realize the kids won’t leave you alone. So, you step outside to build a snowman, telling yourself, “It’s going to be alright. I can’t fight it; I may as well enjoy it.”
While not every family will experience all these stages, many will resonate with some, and they may unfold at different times or in different forms. One certainty remains: by the end of a snow day, especially after multiple days, everyone craves a little solitude. You tuck the kids in and then look skyward, hoping for sunshine the next day.
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In summary, snow days can evoke a whirlwind of emotions for parents, mirroring the five stages of grief. From denial to acceptance, navigating the chaos can be a rollercoaster, but embracing the unexpected moments can lead to joyful memories.