Someone has been feeling a little left out around here, lately...

Then:
Now:

 

Maybe we could slow things down just a bit there, kiddo? Maybe? Please?

Before the snow...

Oh, right...before Atlanta became a hotbed (er, coldbed?) of winter activity, we actually managed to make it out of the house from time to time to actually do things that didn't involve fighting against the horror that is the devil's dandruff (or, you know, snow, in case that wasn't clear).

These things included, but were not limited to:

1) BABY'S FIRST PEDICURE!!! I have maybe been planning this trip since they first told me, almost five years ago, that my firstborn was going to be a girl. It was every bit as much fun as I though it would be.

(She chose pink nail polish, of course. Because, as she tells me every time she picks out a new toy or an article of clothing or a piece of candy, pink is her favorite color. I always pretend to be shocked when she tells me this, just for my own amusement, and she now thinks her mother has the absolute worse memory in the world...)

2) EAT FROZEN YOGURT AFTER BABY'S FIRST PEDICURE!!! Just because it wasn't snowing doesn't mean it wasn't still cold outside (Atlanta, you are on notice. This cold weather crap you keep pulling on me is BS...), so we had to dress appropriately for our frozen yogurt run. 

Just because you have to wear mittens while you eat your ice cream doesn't mean that ice cream isn't still delicious, ok? Of course, as this is the kid that mixes sour gummy candies in with her chocolate yogurt, delicious is a relative term here, but still...

One of these days, maybe we'll get to leave the house again.

Portrait of a Snow Day

It is snowing in Atlanta. Again. Or, as is more accurate in our little corner of the greater Atlanta area at the moment, it's wintery-mixing. Still.

I give up. I quit. I'm done. We're moving to Hawaii.

Brigid seems to be enjoying herself, at any rate, so I guess that's something...

(I'm still moving to Hawaii, though...)

Logic

The other night, Brigid conned her way into our bed by telling Steve she was scared. When he asked her what she was scared of, she said, "I don't want to tell you, because then you will be scared, too." In the face of that logic, he decided it was easier to let her sleep with us than argue with her about sleeping in her own bed.

A few days before that, I heard her making noise upstairs, while I was downstairs with Caitlin. When I asked her what, exactly, she was doing up there, she informed me it was 'something you can't handle.'

I have absolutely no idea what I'm in for as she gets older, but I know it scares the hell out of me...

Winter Weather

Did you know that it sometimes snows in the greater-Atlanta area? Because when I moved here, I did not know this. I mean, sure, my husband always tries to tell me about that one time, when he was maybe in high school or almost in high school or grade school or something, when they were able to go sledding down the streets in their neighborhood, because the city got an inch or two of snow, and everybody was out of school for a week.

I'm a little hazy on the details, because I moved to the south to get away from winter weather, and if you are not willing to move with me to Florida, you need to shut your mouth and NOT TELL ME THAT IT STILL SOMETIMES SNOWS IN GEORGIA. And if you will not do that, then I will stick my fingers in my ears and hum loudly until you stop talking.

That's just the way things work.

ANYWAY.

Aside from this one blip on the radar, things seemed to be fine in regards to Georgia's winter weather. It got cold, but not Indiana cold. There was sunshine to be seen. There were 50+ degree days here and there to remind me that spring was never far away in the south. 

AND THEN WE GOT SNOWED IN AT THE END OF 2011. AND AGAIN AT THE BEGINNING OF 2014. AND I DO NOT APPROVE.

All things considered, Steve and I were lucky when the storm (snowpocalypse? snowmageddon? Atlantarctic disaster?) hit last week. We had gone into work together, despite Steve hinting around that he wanted to work from home since the weatherpeople were predicting some snow in the area, because I am one of those idiotic northerners who scoffs at a two inch snow prediction, completely disregarding the fact that for my adopted southern city, which isn't exactly great with the traffic on a normal day, two inches of snow will paralyze everything. 

We left work around 1:15pm, at which point the city was already in gridlock, and after driving around in circles for an hour, trying to find any road where the traffic was moving enough to get us to the highway we take home everyday, we were still only about a mile away from the office. At this point, things were getting a little tense in the car, as I may or may not have yelled at Steve to just pick a damn direction already (Seriously. We were driving in circles. For an hour. TO GO ONE MILE.), but lucky for me I married a directional genius who decided that we just needed to start driving any way available to us to get out of the downtown mess. And that's exactly what we did.

After an hour and a half in the city, we were officially on the one highway that was still moving at that point, because everything else was so jammed, none of the usual highways were feeding into it. An hour and a half after that, we were home. My normal commute is at least an hour going home, so three hours? I will not complain.

My poor sister-in-law works a few blocks from where I work and lives a few miles south from where I live. She took our normal route home, leaving an hour earlier than Steve and I had left, and she was on the road for six or seven hours. Even then, she had to park at a drugstore and have my brother-in-law come get her in his Jeep, because she couldn't get into the neighborhood. One of my employees spent the night in a hotel lobby. My boss slept in her office. My old neighbor spent 16.5 hours in HIS CAR.

So, a three hour commute? Sure. Fine. NOT A PROBLEM.

Needless to say, we didn't go anywhere for the next two days. Steve and I worked from home (his mom stayed with us, both to watch the girls while we worked, and also to avoid being snowed in by herself while my father-in-law was off on an amazingly well-timed trip to the Keys with some college buddies), Brigid spent extended periods of time in her pajamas, and our neighborhood children systematically destroyed the 16th fareway and green behind our house, as golf course hills really are the best hills for sledding. Brigid and Steve managed to not break the wooden sled that once belonged to Steve's grandfather, which is the only sled we own, and Brigid FINALLY got to build the darn snowman she's been talking about ever since she saw the movie Frozen back in November. In a (not at all) surprising move, she named him Olaf.

By Friday, everything had melted. On Sunday, Brigid wore sandals out of the house to a Super Bowl party. And I was happy.

And now it's cold again. 

Have I mentioned how much I hate winter, yet?

(There are rumors that someone has predicted possible snowfall for the area this week or next week. I will guarantee you that after what the government and schools went through last week, with children spending the night in schools because their parents couldn't get to them and cars abandoned all over every major highway in the city when traffic was at a complete standstill overnight? If there is even the THREAT of snow within a ninety mile radius of the city, everything will be cancelled. So. It will be interesting to see how the rest of the winter plays out, I guess...)

Happy (belated) Birthday, Steve!

Well, Steve's birthday was this past Monday, and like the worst wife ever (or maybe the BEST WIFE EVER!!!!, depending on how you want to look at it...), I am making the poor guy go pick out his own birthday present. I mean, I know generally what he wants, and I intend to get him that, but I don't know the details. He's getting a Nespresso machine, because what my already generally goofy husband needs is easy access to as many shots of espresso as his little heart desires, but who am I to come between a man and his caffeine habit, you know?

But, well, there are different sizes and colors and features and whatnot, and I want to make sure he gets the exact one he wants, so...yeah. Nothing like passing the buck on a birthday present to make you feel like the greatest gift giver in the world.

Lest you think we didn't celebrate the poor guy on the 34th anniversary of his birth at all, FEAR NOT! Brigid provided him with a hat that she's held on to ever since her 3rd birthday celebration at her old preschool. This thing is over a year old AND survived a move, so I think it's safe to say that this hat has earned the right to be worn for every birthday we have for as long as it wants to stay with us.

And I did offer to stick a candle into one of the oatmeal creme pies from the box I bought him to keep all to himself, which I think is very generous of me. Plus...

...chocolate in the shape of a beer mug. How can you go wrong with chocolate in the shape of a beer mug!

(Brigid's take: Chocolate beer! Mommy, daddy is getting chocolate beer! Does it taste like beer, mommy? No? It just tastes like chocolate? THEN HE CAN SHARE WITH ME! 

I'd say she approved of the gift.)

Happy birthday, honey! We love you...and stuff :)

Best Friends

As much of a pain in the rear as this dog can be, she is beyond patient with my baby, so I've told her she can stay with us a little longer.

(Also, she puts off a lot of body heat, which makes her great to snuggle with at all times, because I run cold. BUT! The next time she steals my dinner out from under me? We're having words. Cute and warm only covers for so much, and Tara doesn't share food...)