Hit the road Jack....Frost, and don't you come back no more

 (no more no more no more)

Its time.

I know this happens every year. Winter, that is. And, every year everyone gets tired of winter, and starts to complaaaain, and loudly long for warmer weather. So, for the sake of tradition that is what we are doing around here.

How do I know its time? Beside the fact that Sunday is March?

I know its time for spring because the four pair of boots that I rotate through all winter are looking much less appealing than all of my flats, sandals, and slip ons that are sitting sadly in my closet. I have a serious love affair with boots. Boots, you will always be my favorite of all footwear, but we need some time apart.

I know its time for spring because work out videos are getting more and more difficult to put in that DVD player. I just want to go outside and walk or (gasp) jog! I've been staring into the eyes of Jillian Michaels for far too long.

I know its time for spring because I have a baby who has never been outside longer than a trip from building to vehicle and back again. I'd love to introduce you. She's a doll.

I know its time for spring because I'd appreciate having my shorts and cropped pants as an excuse to shave at least my lower legs more than occasionally.

Winter, you've been tolerable, even pleasant in spurts, but why don't you just find your way on over to the other side of the planet for the next 8 months or so. Mmmmmkay?

bedtime conversations: ladies-wear

K: those pants are still so tight that if I popped out of them they'd shoot me right into the upper atmosphere.

C: Like Pecos Bill's wife. Well, that was because she was wearing a bussle.

K: I thought that was because she sat on his horse...

C: That started it, but it was more about the bussle. It bounces.

....mostly I'm just delighted that C knows about bussles. 

Happy List

In Relief Society (our church's fabulous women's organization) on Sunday we talked about maintaining happiness even through the difficult phases of our lives. It was a powerful reminder for me of all the things in my life which bring me joy.

A few of the things I've been thinking about:

Taking M with us out to our Valentine dinner, and having him realize and vehemently object to the fact that we had left P home with a babysitter. "No! She's supposed to come with us! I need her!" 

Feeling C smile in the middle of one of those (dare I say) delicious 15 second kisses.
If you are in a relationship and not doing this, start.

I've made dinner the last five night in a row. Five nights in a row people,
Four of them have been delicious.

Just Gilmore Girls.

I've been having a lot of dreams about old friends from high school and college. I have been blessed with some of the most fabulous people in my life. Holla.

Yesterday C finally made the triangle shelves that were supposed to be my
mother's day gift last year. They are gorgeous. 

I have bought more new music in the last month than the last seven years combined.
Isn't new music such a liberating experience? 

and these: 

i am so happy.

This is when I do my best eating

I recently read a few things about being a mom that have really struck me, and helped me concentrate on soaking it all in, even when its exhausting and chaotic.

Something about the fact that these may not be the easiest times, but we can't simply hold our breath and close our eyes for when things are easier because although difficult, these are the best times. I'm sure you have read many blog posts with similar sentiment, so I won't blather on. But I sure could. Also, blather. What an excellent word.

Even with this being the case, I keep finding myself collapsed on the the couch with relief when the kids are asleep in the evening. These hours are sooooo precious. Should I feel guilty that I look forward (desperately) to these hours when these amazing little people don't need me?

No. Not even a little.

After meditating on the subject over a bowl of life cereal, I realized why these hours are so important for a mom. We give ourselves to our children all day long. At the end of the day we are tapped out. Not a drop left in the barrel. These evening hours filled with Gilmore Girls, Jimmy Fallon, cheesy romance novels, conversations with my husband, and more snacking than the human body should be able to tolerate are how we get ourselves back. It is when we reload.

Because tomorrow we are going to be giving ourselves away all over again, and if we haven't found what we gave away yesterday, (as cheesy as it sounds) we won't have much to give to our children tomorrow.

So when 7:00 rolls around and I am tucking M's blankets so tightly around him that he can't possibly escape without aid before I kiss his little head, its a good thing.