Forget Calgon, I Need a Tropical Beach to Take Me Away!

I'm laying on a beach. The sun is shining down on me, warming my skin. I have my kindle in one hand and a sea breeze in the other. That's my fantasy. In reality, I'm in Upstate New York and I'm FRICKEN' FREEZING HERE PEOPLE!  Mother Nature is bitch slapping us. I don't know who pissed in her corn flakes, but she's taking it out on us. The high for today is thirteen. We're barely into double digits. And the low tonight? Negative 16. Negative. Six. Teen. I've been cold for three weeks straight. I have Jack Frost nipping at my heels and no matter how hard I kick the bastard, he keeps coming back.

Normally, winter doesn't bother me overly much. I like having a white Christmas (when the weather cooperates) and having hot cocoa and watching the kids make snow forts. It's not my favorite season, sure. But we tolerate each other until Spring moves in and kicks it to the curb. But this negative degree crap has got to stop. I think my blood is turning to slush. I'm a fair weather Mom, I'm not built for this. You know why so many babies are conceived in the winter? Because the only warm place in your house is under the bedding store you currently call your bed. And being a woman, I have to shave my legs. Have you ever tried to shave your legs with goose bumps? By the time I'm done there are so many cuts it looks like I've used a rusty razor from 1973. 

Because we can't hibernate like those smart bears, that means we actually have to go outside in this weather. So we double, triple, quadruple layer until we look like Ralphie's little brother from The Christmas Story. (We'll be fine as long as we don't need to use the bathroom for the next three months.) Those smart marketing experts seized on this and sell thermal socks, long johns, wool socks, fingerless gloves (Keep your fingers warm and still be able to type that monthly report!). And Mother Nature takes that as a challenge. "Oh, you think 17 degrees is cold? How about 7 degrees? Like that punks?" No, no we do not. Please make it stop. You know you have it bad when you start envying the retirees that spend November through March in warmer climates.

If I think I have it bad, I feel sorry for my poor children. They get the neurotic mother who nags them every morning about wearing gloves and hats and has become the local weatherperson for the house. "Make sure you wear your warm gloves, not the thin ones. It's going to be a high of thirteen today and that's pretty cold!" Mentally, they're rolling their eyes and thinking, "Yes Mom, I know how cold 13 degrees is." (Once my powers of mental telepathy kick in I can smack them for their insubordination. But for now, they get credit for not sassing back to their whacko Mom.) My 15 year old especially loves it when I nag him about his outer gear because you KNOW high schoolers are too cool to wear proper clothing. (Insert maternal eye roll here.)

Just when you think you're going to stark raving bonkers from being cooped up inside your house, you get a blessing in the form of a heat wave. High of twenty two today folks! Yee haw! Bring out the shorts and tank tops! (Sadly, this would be funnier if twenty two WASN'T considered a heat wave right now.) I'm pathetic because I'm praying for 33 degrees. Just give me one degree above freezing so that I can delude myself into thinking that spring is right around the corner. Is that so much to ask?

So I'll use my beach fantasy to keep me warm. Even if it means I have to sit in the warmest room in the house (Oh wait, that's the bathroom. The second warmest room then.) with a bottle of sun tan oil and a Mai Tai.