This morning was a total gong show.

There weren’t the right foods in our mostly empty post-vacation fridge. Gong.

Isabella was too tired to get out of bed. She didn’t have the right shirt. Or pants. Or socks. Or underpants. Gong.

The oatmeal overflowed all over the inside of the microwave. Gong.

Josh’s new boots are too tight. Isabella’s new boots are too loose. Gong.

Emily couldn’t find the only hat she could possibly wear. Gong.

Lunchboxes were missing. Water bottles were missing. Everything was missing. Gong.

Polar Vortex? My Canadian gong and I laughed at this polar vortex business as I tossed the kids out the door this morning. My kids were going to school today, even if the school buses and the entire midwest were not.

Call me a bad mom. Go on, I can take it. Tell me it’s wrong to smile as I shut the door behind my three and exhale a giant sigh of relief. I saw a Facebook feed full of moms last night lamenting about how sad they were to send their kids to school today. Just one more day of winter vacation!! I will really miss my kids when they go back to school! they cried.

Gasp! I don’t miss them.

Sure, I will be glad to see them when they get home. I will be excited to hear how their days were and I will listen intently to all of their stories about their friends and their classes and pleasedeargod their indoor recesses as I cart them off to ice skating lessons and dance class and feed them a dinner they will likely complain about even though they all love it (it’s baked ziti, by the way.)

But I am so happy to sit here in my pajamas and hold a hot mug of coffee in my frozen hands.

I’m elated to actually be able to respond to the emails that have been filling up my inbox over the last few weeks. I’m looking forward to eating lunch without sharing. There are no pukey sheets to wash, no sad sickies to snuggle. There’s absolutely not a single episode of Jessie on today. I don’t have to share my bathroom with small tushies. I don’t have to spend 30 minutes hunting down the right pair of black leggings. No one wants to paint my nails and no one needs me to iron or dry or curl any hair of any kind. I don’t have to cut the green parts off of the strawberries or get drinks or argue about why 11am is not time for cake and pie. No one needs me to perform a fish funeral. No one is complaining about boredom. No one is yelling, screaming, fighting, arguing, whining, crying. I don’t have to watch this one dance instead of watching this one play in the football game. There is no rainbow loom anywhere near me right now. (See also: clay, coloring books, American Girl paraphernalia.)

There’s no “Mom. Mother. Mama. MAMA! Mommy. Mom. MOM. Ali. Ali. ALIMARTELL!”

Sure, I have to work all day. And do laundry. And clean out the oatmeal-y microwave. And make the baked ziti. And figure out when the heck I’m going to be able to take my son to the hand clinic.

But I’m doing it in silence.

With a bad mom smile on my face.

Gong.