My father pretty much summed it up. He called this morning and when I answered the phone the first thing out of his mouth was “So, sure would be nice to be sitting on a beach on the Mayan Riviera right about now, huh?” Yup. Great minds, as they say, they think alike.

The minute Ryan got up this morning he was begging to go outside to shovel snow. I groaned. I said “after breakfast” hoping he’d forget. He didn’t. I groaned again, and said “after I wash these dishes.” He still didn’t forget. GO OUTSIDE AND SHOVEL SNOW NOW MAMA!!! Grrrrrrrrr.

I dislike winter, the blahs, the drearies, the short days, the cold. I dislike snow. Sure, I guess it looks pretty, but it’s just a nuisance. Gets in the way. Slows things down. And shoveling snow is so not my job (much as cleaning toilets and scrubbing showers and dusting and washing windows, and…   are not FatJ’s jobs). But here I am being dragged outside in the freezing wind, in my pajama pants, with a two year old forcing a shovel into my hands.

And dude, shoveling snow is not for the pregnant. Back pain, stomach pain, the inability to bend completely over…DONE. I need to hire a nanny. Or a shoveler. Or a nanny who shovels.

How many days till the Mayan Riviera?

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