Not a winter mommy

It's only the first real wintery day, and already I hate it. I. Hate. It.

I hate the play-acting, pretending that going outside is going to be so much fun.

I hate the winter clothes, having to cajole Will into putting on her snowpantssweeaterjackethatbootsmittens.

I hate the whining. The kicking. The refusing. The running. The crying. (Not all from the child, of course.)

I hate the bribing. Seriously, if I have to resort to bribing a child to go outside to play in the snow, why?! Why?

(Because she might like it! She doesn't know. It's winter! It's snow! It's a new experience.)

She didn't like it. I'm sure it was being restrained by the snowpants, because later she walked for 2 blocks pushing her stroller (after I had to wrestle her into her mittens. Grrr!).

She briefly enjoyed watching her footprints appear as she walked backwards. Then she took off her mittens. Then her hat. Then she went for her coat.

"If you want to take your coat off, we can't play in the snow anymore. We have to go inside."

Her eyes lit up. She pointed at the door and nodded. Emphatically.

I don't think I'm cut out to be a winter mommy.