Mother Nature must be menopausing this year. I mean, Holy Hot Flash, Batman. Talk about mood swings. First, she lulls me into a false sense of security by
keeping the temps high and the grass green well into December. Then, around
mid-January, just when I find myself hoping that—perhaps this year—I would be
able to avoid the exhausting, yet requisite, process of putting snow gear on my
toddlers, she pulls this shit:
You can bet your bundled ass that the first thing my kids
asked to do when they woke up to a world covered in nuisance white was
go play in it. If there’s snow on the ground, the soundtrack of my life is
reminiscent of the one from Disney’s Frozen,
i.e., my kids incessantly belt out, “Do you wanna build a snowman?” until I
can’t take it anymore and agree to accompany them outside, so we can all freeze
our asses off make memories together.
Kids love snow. It’s a fact of nature. (See what I did there?) When I was a kid, my siblings and I
jumped at the opportunity to have snowball fights, go sledding, build snowmen,
impale each other with icicles, and use our prepubescent bodies to make awkwardly-shaped
snow angels.
The thing is, my kids are toddlers right now. And getting
toddlers dressed to play in the snow is about as fun as getting hit in the head
with a Hot Wheels car—which is usually what ends up happening if I don’t succumb
to their demands to play outside, where they’re actually able to burn off some of
their endless toddler energy.
Here’s why getting my kids dressed to play in the snow sucks:
All the things.
Snow-play requires more layering than Kim Kardashian’s
wedding cake. I have a hard enough time finding my kids’ socks (the ones I put
on their feet, like, five minutes ago).
Locating all the random pieces of their snow attire requires me to search
multiple closets, dresser drawers, the van, the diaper bag, the spaces between
the couch cushions, and (occasionally) the toilet bowl. It basically turns my
afternoon into a live-action version of an I
Spy book.
Can you spy all the things required for you and
your toddlers to go outside? Spot the following items, before your kids lose
their shit because they just HAVE to build a snowman NOW: snow pants, winter
coats, thermal socks, boots, waterproof mittens, hats, scarves, and LOTS AND LOTS OF COFFEE.
(Okay, who am I kidding? Like the coffee isn't always accessible.)
Toddlers have jellyfish limbs.
I can barely get my squirmy-ass kids in the tub, which
measures approximately 1.5 toddler x .75 toddler. So trying to shove their
writhing bodies into 50 relatively-fitted layers of clothing isn’t exactly a walk in the park.
Or, in this case, a walk in the unappealing arctic tundra that our backyard has
transformed into overnight.
Oh, and the thumbs of those waterproof mittens? Eff that. My kids don’t need
thumbs. Penguins don’t have thumbs, and they do just fine in the cold. Besides,
they don’t need the dexterity. We all know that I’ll be the one risking frostbite out there, forced to remove my own mittens in order to properly handcraft “our” snowman, while the kids flop around nearby, barking orders at
me like caffeinated seals.
“Bigger! Bigger!” (Any bigger, and I won’t be able to lift
its head onto its body.)
“It want some hot cocoa!” (Not a good idea, guys.)
“Why her butt look so funny?” (YOU BOYS BETTER BE TALKING
ABOUT THE SNOWMAN!)
Come on, you think my toddlers
built this bitch?
Murphy’s Law of toddler shit habits, as it relates to winter clothing.
This basically states that as soon as I finally have all
that shit (see “all the things”) on my kids, they either (1) will tell me they have to shit (hopefully in less abrasive
language), or (2) will shit. On the
spot. Under the 50 layers of snow gear I just wrangled them into.
Either scenario requires immediate removal of said shit (literal
and figurative) because I’ll either (1) have to change their diapers, or (2)
strip them down layer by layer and plop them on the toilet, where they’ll
proceed to waste even more of my time by belting out “Do you wanna build a
snowman?” and taking an HOUR to actually shit.
#itsscience
It’s also #bullshit.
And then we’re right back to shoving jellyfish limbs back
into all 50 layers of clothing.
By the time I’ve finally managed to get my toddlers snow-ready,
we’re usually all so worn-out that we barely make it 30 minutes outside before
needing to come back in for snacks and a nap.
Then I have to remove
and put away all their snow gear, and
by the time that’s done, they’ve usually crapped themselves again.
*Sigh*
Someone needs to tell Mother Nature to get her shit
together, before this mama loses hers.*
*Note: When I started this piece, my husband was home from work due to snowy/icy conditions. And now—less than a week later, as I hover over the "publish" button—temps are creeping toward 40. Our yard is mostly mud, and the boys are mourning the death of their beloved snowman.
But I won't be fooled again, and I'm keeping all the snow gear within reach for that cold bitch's inevitable next mood swing.
LOL. I've experienced Murphy's law. And the probability of it occurring increases with each layer of clothing you need to remove.
ReplyDeleteHaha yes! It's an exponential equation. It would probably be easier to just let them go out and play in their own filth, but then...
Delete...laundry (womp womp).
Yes! Yes! Yes!! Even when they get a bit older it's still a pain in the but, which is yet another reason why I hate the cold weather and snow. But I do like to watch them play, even if it's for a few minutes, they always look so cute!!!
ReplyDeleteAgreed! I particularly enjoy it when they're in the back yard and I can sit on the patio with a cup of coffee while I watch lol :)
DeleteI have been (and continue to be) there. Kids and snow are a horrible, nightmare-inducing combination. Very funny (and relatable) post!
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