Mad at the Meteorologists

Okay, so where is the 5-10+ inches of snow they forecasted for our area? For the last couple of days I've been telling the kids that we're going to have enough snow for some sledding.

I woke up at 12:58am and looked out the window, fully expecting to see a blizzard. A dusting. Hmmm. Tried to go back to sleep, but was unsuccessful, so I turned on the local all-weather channel (yes, the one with the annoying 3 song loop) and saw that the radar indicated I shouldn't be able to see the trees in the back yard. Hmmm. I can see lights 2 miles away.

So I decided to sleep on the couch, tossed and turned a bit under my new electric throw blanket (a Christmas gift from my wonderful hubby who likes to make sure I'm warm), and finally drifted off to sleep.

The phone rang at 5:53am...the school automated system...no school for Morgan. I peeked outside thinking it must have hit us...maybe an inch. Are you kidding? They cancelled school for an inch of snow? Of course I may be a little ticked because I spent quite a bit of time yesterday baking sunflower seed cookies for Morgan's class, and now I get to dispose of 5 dozen of them.

So the radar at 9:35 shows movement of significant bands of snow heading our way. Okay, the superintendent saw the forecast and decided it was going to get worse. Total accumulation for the storm: 3.5 inches, tops. No ice. But a wicked wind chill.

I'm not complaining that Morgan got to stay home today, though. I think she enjoyed just hanging out with Caleb and Mommy and eating way too many sunflower seed cookies.

As a kid I wanted to be a meteorologist. In fact, that was my dream until I was a junior in high school and determined that about 2 dozen were employed in the state. I still love weather, but am really glad I didn't become a weather guesser. I hate being wrong. I wouldn't be able to come home to face my dear angels' faces when I was promising 5-10+ inches of snow and the actual accumulation was less than 4.

Lesson learned: Don't promise sledding until you see the white of the snow on the ground.