Being pregnant is not fun during snow storms. I mean if you don't like snow storms, then it never would be fun, but then maybe you should live somewhere where the chance of snow is not likely at all, like Mississippi. You thought I was going to say Florida, didn't you?
If you don't live in the Northeast, then let me just tell you, we have had a lot of snow this winter. Like we live in Wyoming or something. We are not talking flurries everyday, in fact it doesn't snow everyday, but when it does, it is like the sky just opened up and a dump truck just decided, hey this is where we will put it all. SPLAT! And we have like 75 inches of snow on the ground until June.
This of course is the worst part, the clean up. Where do you put it all when it doesn't melt? We need to ship it to Mississippi so those kids can go sledding or something.
So back to being pregnant...in the snow.
During one of the storms, I can't remember which one, my husband turns to me and says, 'you are no fun, why don't you put on the snow stuff I got you and come outside and play?'
If he didn't notice, which is nice if he really didn't, my girth is about 20 times the size it was 7 months ago. I think I would look like the biggest fool with my pants hanging wide open, zipper down, jacket flying open in the wind. What comes to mind when I picture this scenario in my head is Chris Farley in, 'Tommy Boy,' where is sings, 'Fat Guy in a little coat...'
And then I would have ripped my jacket, and no one would have been happy.
So my options are pretty limited. I can't go skiing. I am always pregnant in the winter, and so I have not been skiing in years. I am hoping it is like they say, and it is just like riding a bike, or a horse, you just get on and go, like you never stopped. But since I was wobbly on both attempts to complete these activities after some time off, I am certain I am going to break a leg.
I cannot go sledding. I think people might call child protective services if I attempted this. There is something completely wrong about a pregnant woman sledding. Beyond the risks, I think it would look pretty ridiculous, and in all honesty, I don't think I would be able to stand up without first rolling around on the ground like some beached whale, attempting to gain some leverage.
I cannot ice skate. Well, I can't ice skate at all to begin with. A funny thing happens when I go to put on ice skates, as I am lacing them up, dementia comes over me, and I think that I can ice skate. I then stand up and start wobbling on my ankles like I am on some tight rope or something. You would think that there would be more support involved in those stupid things, like a brace or something inside the skate. How does those girls do it? They make it look so easy. Perhaps that is why I think I can skate when I am strapping them on, how hard can it be, I couldn't do it last time, but maybe I can this time. Every time I am wrong and never make it out the door with them on...since about age 20.
The good thing is is that I cannot shovel, well I am sure I can shovel, but it's not really recommended that I shovel, and since it is not very fun to shovel, there is no way you will see me out there shoveling. However, when overdue with Kendall I decided that I was going to shovel, and you better believe I was out there hauling snow. No baby came. What a waste of time.
The worst part about being 8 months pregnant and it snowing is the getting from here to there in this deep snow. I actually think that Andy needs to get me a little sleigh that I sit upon and then he pull me and all my things to the van and back. So what if I weigh 535 pounds? And so what if it is 50 feet? I will tell you I am ready to pass out after going up the two flights of stairs in my house, getting from the door to the van in 3 feet of snow makes me just want to fall over and give up, I am thinking of purchasing a white flag and painting in bright red layers, 'HELP ME!', on it and just carry it with me whenever I am outside because I am bound to pass out one of these times.
I feel as though this winter I may have instilled a dislike of snow in my children since I am not all gung ho, lets go build a snow man and stay outside until we can't feel the tip of our nose anymore all kinds of excited to get on out there. I mean they go out in it, but it isn't that fantastical scene where they scream and run all over the house because it is snowing and they can hardly wait to get out there. In all honesty, I line all the stuff up, after I have searched all over the house for the missing glove, line up the children and dress them, and then when it is done, 45 minutes later we are all a grumpy mess of sweatiness. I have my work cut out for me next year, they must love snow, what child doesn't?
My children, enjoying the snow with their friends, see I don't keep them cooped up.
Same with dear Stanley.
He loathes the snow. He looks out there when he really has to use the facilities, turns back and looks at me like I have lost my mind, and is then instantly shuddering in fear because he knows he can't hold it anymore. It must be rough having to stick your rump in something freezing just to take a dump. He looks out the window when it is coming down and it is written all over his face...'I am not going out there one more time until there is something green for me to lift a leg to.'
When I finally get him out there, I feel just terrible. Look, you try to pick up a scent in that mess.
My first year of college, I went to a wilderness college. I am sure if you didn't already know this you are laughing, saying, 'yeah, and I don't believe that for five seconds.' But I really did, great year, I am sure I will go on more about that later. But more importantly, one of our assignments was that we were to go winter camping in the snow, and sleep in igloos that we made. I know. I hated every second of it, and compare it to the same sort of torture as putting thin pieces of wood under a toe nail. Really it was that bad. But I now sympathize with my dog, and having to have your fanny right there; hovering over or possibly on the snow in the freezing weather. It's cold. Real cold.
But he does his business fast, and the picture you are left of is similar to all of us at this point with the snow...
You just see our tail end as we hurry back inside.
Thus producing cabin fever which has us dressing like it is 80 degrees and we are heading to Mardi Gras.