all images © Meghan Boyer Photography

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Hats and Gloves

I groan when the kids ask to wear hats and gloves.  They are a pain in the butt.  The hats and gloves, not the kids.  Okay, so sometimes the kids are too.  But I love the kids, hats and gloves...not so much.  The hats and gloves get yanked off, dropped, left at school, shoved into cracks, and flung at me when I'm trying driving.  Usually these items stay on their body less time than it takes to put all that crap on. I know, other moms are begging their kids to put on this cold weather gear and I'm convincing mine that they don't need it.  It's not so bad!  It's eighteen degrees outside...double digits!  See, look at me! I do a lap around the front yard in my shorts and tank top, pumping my fists in the air.  It's downright balmy out here!  No big deal.  You're just going from the house to the van to the store and back again.  If you run super fast you won't feel a thing!  Plus...you can't play with toys and eat snacks with those annoying things on right?  What will you do for the whole five minute ride to the store?

Lillian is just like me, always hot and always running around half naked.  I don't care if it's mid January.  I'm still loading kids into the van in shorts, a tank top, and bare feet.  And yes, my neighbors talk about me and often ask me to go put some pants on.  But you probably already assumed that, the neighbors know I'm crazy.   I do shuttles.  House to van, van to house, back and forth, many times over.  With kids, sippy cups, snacks, items to return to the store, clothes for the drycleaner, post office drop offs, my backpack and water bottle, forgotten coats, shoes and socks that were never put on, and occasionally the toothbrush.  I'm a stickler when it comes to proper dental hygene.  I tell the kids if they don't brush, their teeth will fall out and then no more teeth for eating candy.  After everyone is locked and loaded, I run back in the house and put on more weather appropriate clothing.  Maybe a sweater, but never a jacket.   Lillian will bring a jacket and tell me "just in case."  She hates wearing them too.  That girl will barely put on a long sleeved shirt.  If she does, it comes off in the van before she buckles in.  So when Lil asks for a hat and gloves it's even worse.  She will put on a short sleeved shirt, a long sleeved one over top, a jacket, and a hat and gloves.  Then she walks ten feet to the van and takes it all off.  She buckles in, we drive five minutes to wherever we are going, then she maybe will put it all back on.  Pain in the butt.

We love summer.  Today Lillian asks if we can go to the pool as soon as it's summertime. "And can we get those balls from the truck?" she wants to know.  Um...you mean snowballs?  Last night Lil and Grady pulled the blue cushion off our papasan chair and pretended it was the pool.  They put on thier swimsuits and I was supposed to be the lifeguard and tell them not to run.   Lillian pretended to meet Dempsey at the pool, "Hi Dempsey, I'm going to be part of your family now.  That's my brother Grady, he's crazy." Aka... a pain in the butt.    But really...who isn't?  My butt pains rock.
 

2 comments:

  1. I despise mittens that the little ones are supposed to have a great time outside after they are bundled up in their snowsuits, boots, hats,etc. Then come the mittens. They are already barely able to walk, and then mittens..which fall off every minute, and despite my best efforts get snow inside...I mean they are already almost fully disabled ( even Bennett can't sprint away ha, ha), but why mittens? They come with every coat, hat up to age whatever. What about snowballs, dexterity. Bennett will wear gloves this snow season... Let me know where you get yours...if you still have any! love ya!

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  2. We went to Macy's and bought water proof gloves today. I was so aggravated because they wouldn't let me use my coupon since they were an "everyday value." I returned them before I even left the store. We will be buying them at the consignment shop tomorrow. Stupid Macy's.

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