Snow, Schmow

I loathe the snow and winter in general, so it's a real mystery why I choose to live in Massachusetts when we could pick up and go to a warmer climate at any moment given the nature of The Husband's job.

Today, I woke up to flurries and overexcited children, who don't realize that all the first snowfall means is that it's a good 6 months before it will be remotely warm again. Six loooooong months of forcing hands into mittens and heads into hats; of a constant trail of slush through the entryway of the house and cries of dismay when shirtsleeves get stuck in coat armholes. Six months with nearly no sun, a constantly filthy car and lots of time indoors. Blech.

I do know some borderline insane people who enjoy this time of year. They are heartier than I. I believe that I was meant to be a southern belle, sitting on a porch in the scorching heat accepting mint juleps and sweet tea from my adoring suitors, not unlike Scarlett O'Hara, whose great line, "I'll just think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day," rules much of my life of denial.

I am sure that the kids will force me to spend a half hour later today squeezing and coercing reluctant bodies into snow pants, boots, etc. for 15 minutes worth of play time, then leave all their stuff strewn about like the snowflakes themselves. Each year, I try to convince myself that I really do like winter - that I love sledding, skiing and ice skating. But I am just a soft, warm-weather girl at heart and it's time I owned up to it.

As a homeschool mom, though, I am supposed to love all kinds of weather and be willing to hike in it, pointing out all sorts of seasonal changes and the like to my children. Am I causing irreparable gaps in their education? I think I can risk it...I will take tidepools over a winter wonderland any day! So I will now go into my winter depression - perhaps I should buy a sunlamp? - and spend my days hoping for an early spring.