THERE'S an unseen army of snow victims out there.

And I'm one of them.

Not that I've even had the chance to get out into the snow to get lost and unseen.

We are the frustrated parents.

Frustrated that the demands and ridiculously high costs of fast-paced modern living coupled with bringing up four children and both parents working just to make ends meet is demanding enough without the bad weather.

It may be chaos on the roads. Snow also brings domestic chaos too.

It's like juggling with soot - especially as all our four children go to different schools.

My wife, Ruth, is a community midwife with a demanding caseload to fit into the two days a week she works.

On Monday all but one of the schools shut.

Ruth bore the brunt of this one and stayed at home, doing what she could on the phone.

Tuesday and all four schools were closed. Luckily Ruth wasn't working and so stayed at home again.

We live high up in the Colne Valley and the road gritted well last year remained ungritted this time so by Tuesday night she'd been a prisoner in the house with the kids for 48 hours.

Come yesterday most of the Kirklees schools were back - apart from five. Shame that two of them are where two of our kids go.

One, 15-year-old George, is epileptic which means either Ruth or I must be with him when he's not at school. That's the often unseen role of a carer.

This time it came down to me. There's no way Ruth could miss her midwifery clinic again and she needed to keep up with many other patients on her caseload.

So, a day off.

Luckily I'd a handful owing from working weekends or it'd have been a holiday day.

But it's no holiday - it's a day of domestic chores.

The children need dressing, feeding and entertaining.

The washing machine's forever bleeping at you, going on and on to signal that one load needs turfing into the dryer and it's time for another to go in the washer.

And then there's more snow to clear, the ironing, the washing up, the cleaning ...

So, not that much of a holiday.

And now there's the little matter of all the teacher training days to think about. Four kids, four different schools, five teacher training days a year at each one. That's potentially 20 holiday days eaten up a year.

And then don't forget the days needed for when the children are off ill too - probably at least another 10 a year with George already in hospital with seizures twice in January.

Somehow, none of this is adding up. Let's hope we as parents never fall ill.

And, the main point is, Ruth and I are not alone. Many more parents across Kirklees face this impossible juggling act. If colleagues at work think we're having an easy day off I'll gladly swap places.

But, until the next emergency, heavy snow or teacher training day, I'll be back at work.