Baby, It's Cold Outside

There are so many things I love about being a stay-at-home mom. Too many to mention actually. There are a few things I don't like about being a SAHM, of course, like having a 5 minute lunch hour and going to the bathroom with one or more people on my lap. There is one thing about my vocation, though, that I absolutely HATE and it's a biggie.

Playing outside.

Now don't get me wrong, I love going for a walk on a lovely spring afternoon. I could push the girls on the swings for hours, chase Jack around until we're both exhausted on an early October morning. Strolling through Longwood Gardens with the flowers beginning to bloom is both calming and exhilarating.

Love it. All of that. But drop the temperature below 50 degrees or raise it above 75 degrees and I'm miserable.

Absostinkinlutely miserable.

I do it anyway because it's my duty but I hate it. I count the minutes while I'm stuck rubbing my hands together to keep warm or feeling sweat drip into my eyes. Those are the days that if you consider what I do to be a job then you would say I'm phoning it in. And if you said that, you'd be right. I'm out there because I know that kids need sunshine and fresh air but I'm not liking it. Not even a little.

Today was one of those days where my nose was frozen and thoughts of my toasty warm family room were distracting me from my half-hearted participation in Natalie's game of "Let's Pretend Cinderella Is Lost in a Frozen Forest." I was the fairy godmother. If only the damn wand could have conjured up some Gore-Tex for my frozen ass.

As I shivered and cursed the wind whipping through my hair, I struggled to silence the evil little voice in my head that whispered, "If you were working, you would be sitting in a nice warm office while some poor sucker at daycare was stuck out here with Natalie. Wouldn't that be nice?"

God forgive me, that would be nice. So terribly nice. Not the separated-all-day part. Just the pay-someone-to-take-my-kids-outside-to-play part.

It's fricking freezing. Red-cheeks, squinting, see-your-breath freezing. The kind of day where it takes me 10 minutes to bundle up the girls and myself for our 2 minute walk to Jack's bus stop. The kind of day that a wise friend described as "ridiculously fucking cold that always makes me feel bad about how awful I speak of summer." Yep, she is right so let me take the moment to say, "July, I am so sorry for how I cursed you last year. I'd also like to apologize for how I will curse you again in 6 months. Sorry in advance."

I'll tell January I'm sorry for this blog in a few months when I'm melting into a puddle of sweaty crankiness while The Bigs frolic in their pool. For now, I'm too distracted by the migraine building from being out in the wind while Natalie zoomed around on her scooter, gleeful and seemingly impervious to the artic chill. Brrr...