We got our first snow of the season last night. This morning I was mentally cussing Illinois weather as I trudged through the slush to get Eliot to daycare and then drove around campus looking for a close parking spot. I drove around three different parking lots before deciding that I really wasn't meant to be in the office this morning. Then I came home and moped for a while at how much I hate snow and how little sleep I got last night, etc. I got online and checked out some of my favorite scrapbooking websites and blogs...and then I slowly started to recognize that my crabbiness wasn't getting me anywhere. All I was doing was slowly wasting away another day wishing I was somewhere else doing something else.
So I decided to go outside and take some snow pictures. I reached down and scooped some up to see whether it would pack. (You need to realize that I haven't voluntarily touched snow in years.) And sure enough--perfect snowball snow. And my mood began to change.
I realized that I can't wait for Eliot to get big enough to go sledding, make snow angels and snowmen, and come inside with rosy little cheeks to peel off all of those wet layers of clothes and settle down with some hot chocolate. It's just funny, because I really had forgotten how magical snow always seemed when I was a kid. And I know that Eliot has all of these great winter days ahead of him. Even though to me it's become a hassle, I think I'm ready to rediscover the wonder of winter through my son.
(FYI--baby mittens without thumbs are SO adorable! They crack me up everytime I get Eliot bundled up to go somewhere. He looks like his hands are wrapped in fleece bandages.)