Oh Summer, How I Miss You

I hate winter.  I despise cold.  Yet I live in Maine.  Smart move eh?  Considering I was born and raised here, you would think I wouldn’t mind the cold so much.  You would think wrong, anything below 75 is considered cold to me.  And considering how broke I am right now, my thermostat never gets that high.  Oil prices are insane folks!

By the end of January, I’m dreaming of warm weather, budding trees and gardening.  Did I mention that I live in Maine?!  I won’t see that until April, unless we are exceedingly lucky and it warms up in March (which is a winter month people!).

Currently it’s a balmy 34 degrees outside, the sun has been shining all day…until about an hour ago.  Yup, you guessed it, there is another storm coming our way.  The Daughter is thrilled…me not so much.  Especially with how warm it is, that means lots of heavy, sticky snowman snow.  Ugh.  And guess who gets to do all that shoveling?  That’s right, me.  With my herniated disc and nerve damage.  I hate winter.

Of course, on the upside…I don’t have to deal with tornados, hurricanes, poisonous animals and any number of horrid things.  It’s a trade off I guess.  Which will make me feel better come spring and summer, but not right now.  Because its cold, dreary, and basically I’m utterly miserable.

Doesn’t help that I’m stuck inside taking care of two extra children, and my patience is seriously gone.  I love my nephews, but I’m so done with being their “Momma.”  Are the gypsies still buying children?  Because I think I could get a good price for these two…although they might request a refund for sheer whininess.  They’re cute as a button when they aren’t fussing their small diaper laden butts off.  Which isn’t often, because both kids came to me sick.

Which got The Daughter sick.  Not like she needed help in that department, with an extremely compromised immune system.  Apparently none of us thought this through too well.  And the medication she is on makes her extremely moody, as well as excessively hungry and blowing up like a balloon on a helium tank.  I want my mostly well mannered child back, instead of this screaming banshee from the depths of hell she has become.

This though, this makes my heart sing a little bit.  My goofy girl is still in there somewhere.  Just a lot harder to find these small moments now.

Looking Through My Daughter’s Eyes

Apparently my daughter thinks my stories of growing up are actually interesting.  Who knew?  I sure didn’t, until she asked a question and we started talking about some experiences I had when growing up.  Talk about a shocking revelation, my daughter actually thinks I’m interesting!

She’s almost 8, which to me seems to be a magical time when your parents are still interesting people.  She also finds humor in things I didn’t at her age, and it was fun to relate some old stories of myself at that age and listen to her laugh with joy.  Of course there were a few moments where I felt rather…aged…as apparently such things are not done today.  But she rather enjoyed listening to my bygone days, and I have the feeling there will be many more questions about my growing up years.

Some play time with my daughter and two nephews. Good fun!

Now its time to go back to the land of screaming babies that aren’t mine.  I need a nap…