Until three years ago, I loved winter. Instead of longing for the beach, we hunkered down with books in January and emerged from our caves rejuvenated for spring.
Then 2008 was born. Even that winter was fabulous. A baby! Parenthood! Sleep deprivation!
But since then, winters have been long and grey and cold. Wrangling babies into winter accoutrements is just no fun. Add to that slush, lost mittens and the occasional soaked-child-without-snowpants, and I have started to dread winter.
It is upon us only now. Until this week, there has been no snow. Two weeks ago, 2008 was wearing flip flops in our yard. We rode bikes to the park and played without jackets. Last week we spent hours at playgrounds, but now the end is nigh. No more daily walks. No more casual chats with the neighbors. No more lingering conversations with other moms as we wait for the kids to emerge from preschool.
Now everyone will scuttle into her own house, and I fear that I will become one of those things I hate most: people who complain about the weather.
Please, kids, enjoy the snow! And cabin fever, be brief.
I blog rarely, because I'm writing books. When I do blog, I focus on writing, friendship, family, and books. Because my family's best nicknames are private, I use their birth years for shorthand: