Swaddle Me Until It’s Over
I’m usually pretty sanguine about winter. That wasn’t the case when I first moved here as a child from damp ol’ England. But southern Alberta’s relentless sunshine — and its well-timed Chinook winds (able to melt a snowbank in an afternoon!) — changed my mind.
As an adult, I learned that making myself go outside and play was key to making it through, once the snow arrived.
But I have had it.
It’s a hard thing for me to say. I took my three-year-old skiing last week when it was -19 and we actually had a great time. Usually I shake my head at the whiners on the street (who can usually be found grimacing and hatless, clutching fall coats to their necks). I bemoan the falling-out-of-fashion of 80s style neck warmers, which are de rigeur at our house. I wonder aloud why adults don’t wear snowpants.
But this morning I’m nostalgic for newborn days — my own, I mean. I just want someone to come and swaddle me in a 850 oz loft duvet and leave me there until late March. I know it’s not good for my hips.
But let me know if you’ve got time.
Have fun, and send us your pictures.