My skin hurts for lack of sun.
And February isn't even here yet. February -- the longest month of the year. Longest. It lasts years in this mountainous, Pennsylvania town. Years and years and years and years.
Am I gloomy? Sounds like it. I'm not and complaining was not the intention of this post. Not at all.
I'm actually doing pretty well as I've been congratulating myself lately on this being my best winter as a stay-at-home mom. I've had three now and the past ones left me scurrying -- "I've got to get out! out! out!; Oh good, I need napkins; lets go to the store; or the laundrymat to watch other peoples dryers dry towels and blankets and socks." (we actually did that last winter when Haven was obsessed with "Elmo's Wash & Dry" -- and yes, I own a washing machine).
Don't get me wrong; I'm still all about coming up with creative winter outings but I sense myself needing less of them and this makes me glad. I can only chalk this up to grace. As, let's face it, coming up with things to do in a town sans a mall, McDonald's playland or a grandma's house is pretty tough.
So we've done alot of dancing. Haven loves Live 365 -- I'm proud to say he's probably the only 3-year-old who demands Rag Time and Bluegrass. We sing. We bake. We play with trains. For hours. We jump on furniture and watch the snow fall.
I'm thinking about some sort of sewing project of sorts but can't really come up with one. I know; I'll save that for February.