Every year around January, Andy and I start to question […]
Every year around January, Andy and I start to question why we live in Colorado. Nine months out of the year, we’re in love with our picturesque town that’s nestled in the foothills of the mountains. Spring, summer and fall are gorgeous, and even the onset of winter is an ideal backdrop for the holidays. But once the last of the ornaments are stuffed into the attic, the cabin fever starts to settle in.
Leaving the house takes a lot of planning—and a lot of stuff. Even a short jaunt to the grocery store means collecting armfuls of boots, coats, hats and mittens. A trip to the sledding hill or ski slope calls for even more gear. We thought it was a lot before we had a wee one. Now, with Bea, the mountain of cold-weather wear is astounding.
Since all of her coats and snowsuits are too puffy for her to wear in her car seat, we have to pack those and cover her with a heap of quilts every time we walk out of the house. To passersby I’m sure it looks as though we’re carrying an armful of blankets—there’s nary a pudgy finger nor peeping eye to be seen—and an overstuffed bag big enough for a weekend getaway. (If only we were headed somewhere exotic instead of the post office! Sigh.)
With so much work going into getting out the door, we find ourselves staying in more often. Because it’s freezing cold and it gets dark early, it’s easy to slip into a hibernation mode of sorts, but it can make everyone a bit restless. Even Bea.
I’m trying not to let my fear of smothering her with blankets (or contracting the flu) keep us cooped up all day, every day. We go to the store. We take car rides. I cycle through her toys so she’s excited about playing indoors for a little while. And we’re trying to introduce her—in a very overly bundled way—to the snowy wonderland in our backyard.
This weekend we took her out for a quick romp. Her first time in the snow was a bit of a fail. She didn’t mind the cold, but she was packed so snugly in her snowsuit that she couldn’t move, and when we sat her on the ground she bobbled over face-first into a snow bank. I’m thinking things will get easier as she gets older and can actually enjoy the snow and all the activities that come with it (and, you know, wear something that allows her to move her arms).
We have a few more months of wintery doldrums in this little snow globe we call home. Frigid temperatures. Never-drying puddles of tracked-in slush. Slippery, snow-packed roads. But nestled between all of these cold, wet realities are plenty of cozy moments. Sipping tea while Bea turns a soup pot into a drum set. Saturday morning snuggles. Ridiculously cute baby hats. These are the things that make this long, snowy season completely worthwhile.