Baby, It's Cold Outside.

Mad Props and full credit to The Bleat for this unspeakably fabulous woman, who sums up everything I feel as a wife and mother; chiefly, that tantalizing undergarments should include Lollipop Cuffing. Because how is it possible to feel sexy without Lollipop Cuffing?

And John, if you're reading, this is your Valentine. Muffy on a swing in her Bubble Duds. I get more romantic every year, don't I?

On this special day, this Dieu de Sint Valentino, I would like to also thank Ms. Winter. I have decided that the personification of Winter is not, in fact, an Old Man, but a bee-yotch wearing a tee-shirt that says "50 is the New 30," who enjoys toying with children, teasing them, lowering their winter-time fun expectations to new lows, and who, if I hear my daughter say one more time, breathless with anticipation, "Mommy, is it going to snow ALL THE WAY today? So we can go OUTSIDE and make a SNOWMAN with a big carrot on his nose? Is it?" I will slap. And I will slap Ms. Winter hard enough to make sleet shoot out of her eyes instead of tears.

Usually this time of year, we in the frigid and meteorologically unpredictable northeast are lamenting the piles of snow and lack of sun. We long for watching a ball game on a warm afternoon, having a margarita on the deck, or playing frisbee on the beach.

But. This year, I have two small children with all kinds of brand-new winter duds, desperate to try them out; make a snowman, build a fort, go sledding, do something, ANYTHING related to wintertime fun.

Let's recap:

1) White Christmas. Negatory.

2) White January. A piddling amount. I don't even think piddle would have turned it yellow.

3) However, a Warm January? Check. The first two weeks I went outside on a regular basis in short sleeves.

4) Snow days? Today is the first. ON VALENTINE'S DAY. Ergo, my son isn't even happy about a snow day because there was a party scheduled for today complete with cookies (which I made, yes) and the giving and receiving of valentines.

It's mid-February and we're just getting our first snowstorm. And the worst part is? It's not even the kind of snow they can play in at the moment. It's big, nasty, heavy, wet, biting, painful sleet and freezing rain, which will turn to snow later, which will guarantee that my poor husband will be in the seventh level of hell shoveling it off the driveway. The poor thing. I may even make coffee for him after so he can warm up. I'm sweet like that.

So thank you, Ms. Winter. Thanks for dashing children's dreams, raining sleet on their snow parades, and rendering new snowsuits useless. You show your face around here, and the slapping will begin.

(Yes, I realize I'm just tempting fate here. I'm sure the second she reads this she'll dump snow on us for weeks. I know. It's my own little internet rain dance. I'm very in touch with the spirits that way.)

p.s.: Happy Valentine's Day!

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