Why must old man winter be such a grouch? I mean, statistically old men tend to be grouches I suppose, but this is beginning to be ridiculous. The only happiness that I am gaining from all of this is that I did at one point this summer, proclaim that we would have a "really bad winter" based upon the thickness of the tomato skins (farm girl genes do shine through sometimes) and although I usually bask in the excitement of being right, I will gladly take it all back to have warm enough weather to venture outside without a coat.
Speaking of coats, I'm at that pregnancy stage where none of my cute coats fit anymore, and instead of buying one (I refuse, dag nabbit) I'm wearing this American Eagle coat that my mom got me in the eighth grade that was like 400 sizes too big. I guess I'm thankful for the coat, even though it reeks of the late nineties, you know the look...pastel yellow, blue horizontal stripe across the chest...the whole shebang.
But I truly don't think that there is anything cuter than my children in snow hats. Perhaps your children in snow hats? Regardless of opinion, snow hats always up the ante in cute kid situations. That is just a simple fact of life.
I'm going to be honest, that was just a big, fat Instagram dump. Which is la-azy on my end, but you know, I'll play the tired pregnancy card until the bitter end, and for that I apologize. Truthfully, we have been spending way too many days doing our homeschooling in PJs and playing with the new birthday toys, get a load of that "twirl n' whirl" I mean, "sit and spin" (that name change really made me sad). It's all pretty wild stuff around these parts.
Seriously though, as I sit here typing I'm hearing the tap-tapping of the ice on the windows, I cannot help but be thankful for a warm home, and I pray that those who do not have one have found a place to keep warm during the ice ages that are officially upon us.
'Till next time.