Hate is a Strong Word

Hate is a strong word.  A strong word, but the right word* to accurately describe how I am feeling about winter right now.  Fuck off, winter!

It’s our first cold season here in Upstate NY, and I knew it was going to be bad.  In fact, I expected it to be at least this bad. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still … bad.  We moved to the snowiest city in the U.S., and it’s living up to its name.  I mean, at the beginning of the year, we had a 66-hours-straight snowstorm that accumulated more than 20 inches of snow.  What? And that was just the worst in a month chock full of snow days.  After a December that broke some other snow records.

And all the snow, it’s not just crushing down on our sad little roof.  It’s also crushing down on my sad little soul.  Though I’ve lived in snowy places before (hello, university in eastern Canada), I’m realizing for the first time that the very sight of snow piles gives me significant anxiety.  When is it going to melt?  What if it never melts? What if the snow piles on the side of the driveway get so high that I can’t manually shovel anymore on top of them? What if we can’t leave the house?  After further introspection, I’ve decided that I have an unhealthy fear that we may be entering a new ice age.  You never know, right?

Winter with little kids is kind of the pits, too.  We’re trying to embrace it as best we can, but I really can’t take my little one-year-old munchkin outside much when we have things like 13-day streaks of sub-freezing temperatures (most of which are actually in the single digits – Fahrenheit).  And if you even know where to buy snow boots for size 4 toddler feet, let me know.  Because I have been unsuccessful on that front, and I’m not about to let Ell-Bell run around in the snow with just her cute little sneakers on.  She would totally do it, too.

I guess the real problem is that I’m totally over winter, but it’s nowhere near over.  The internet says it will snow here until at least April, but maybe as late as May.  Gag.  And we keep having these random warm stretches where the mountains of snow all but melt, and I’m like, yaaas, grass, there you are, I missed you! But sure enough, after a day or two, here comes another day with 5-8 inches of snow.  Can I just tell you how sick I am of spending my entire naptime break (what’s left of it, anyway) shoveling the freaking driveway?  My arms are so sore!

And I’m totally sorry for complaining so much about this, but I can’t whine to my husband about how much these winter months are getting me down.  He is the reason we moved here, and every time I so much as hint that I’m not loving all the cold and snow, he feels guilty AF.  So here you go, blog, have all my pent up frustration and disappointment about the fact that we basically live right below the Arctic Circle.

On the literal bright side, we do have a beach trip in our sights, a nice little something to look forward to.  We’re heading to sunny Mexico to see my dad in a few weeks.  Yaaaas.  Since there will still be more winter to come after that, I can’t exactly call the trip a light at the end of the tunnel.  But maybe it’s a little hole in the top of the tunnel, halfway through, letting a few rays in?

Until next time,

Vee

 

*Due credit to Boss Baby for that sentiment

Slow Down, Girlfriend

My daughter Ell-Bell started walking a few weeks before her first birthday.  And she was pretty timid about it at the beginning, as I’m guessing most babies are.  But once she got the hang of it, man did she ever.  A little after she turned one, she became a speed demon.  Awkwardly stumble-sprinting from here to there like some sort of crazed maniac.  Girlfriend needs to slow down.

I used to be able to get things done.  Granted, it was only in 5-minute increments, but it was still something! I’d sit Ell-Bell down in the family room, throw some toys at her, and then sprint around the house, changing the laundry, loading the dishwasher, having a quick pee.  Now, I can’t sit her down for 5 seconds before she’s pushed herself to her feet and is toddling away at an alarming speed.

So these days, if Hubby’s not home, I’m cooking dinner 30-seconds at a time, pausing constantly to retrieve the baby from the bathroom, the stairs, or the kitchen step-ladder.  Because those three places — which are the only non-baby-proofed parts of our house — happen to be Ell-Bell’s three favorite places to be.  Is there anything more relaxing than cooking dinner at the end of a long day, frantically racing back and forth between your burning, oil-spitting stir fry and your babbling, toilet-obsessed toddler who unfortunately knows how to lift the toilet lid?  Little turd.

And much to my tv-loving dismay, Ell-Bell won’t even sit still for the boob tube.  Which I guess is a good thing from a brain-melting perspective, but man, I would love to be able to sweep the floor for a few minutes without my one-year-old trying to help.  She’s actually not very helpful.

The worst part is, as fast as Ell-Bell can go, she’s still pretty terrible at walking.  And she thinks she can run, but she really can’t.  Which means her sweet little forehead and our wooden floors are way too well acquainted.  Girlfriend falls down. A lot.  Her skin is littered with bruises. Poor thing.

On the bright side, Ell-Bell is the cutest thing ever when she walks.  Like, strangers stop and stare, giggling as she moves her little bowling-ball-shaped frame across a room.  She’s definitely got this toddling, wide-eyed, confused, chubby-cheeked vibe going on.  Work it, girlfriend.

Until next time,

Vee