Boy or a Girl?

The kids got a "snowman kit" for Christmas, and since our snow is likely to disappear with record high temps over the weekend, we decided to make a snowman.

"What do you want to name it, Zoe?"

"Frosty!"



How original.



Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful!

We did it!

I pointed out Frosty's heart was anatomically incorrect.

Daddy pointed out, if it was a "he," that the wooden "nose" could be used for a different part of his anatomy. *ahem*

So we switched it.

The heart, not the "nose."

Taa daa!

Zoe: "Mommy, how do you know if it's a girl or a boy snowman?"

"Ummm."

Dmitri: "It's a boy. Girls don't smoke pipes."

With that question answered, it was time to go sledding.

While the snow"man" watched...

But I'm still not sure about the gender...

It sure acts the part of a diva!

Buried in White Stuff

Twelve inches.


That's right.


It was at LEAST that much.


I honestly think it was more.


Appeared more like a monster fifteen inches to me.


Utterly buried in white stuff.



Snow, of course.

What did you think I was talking about?


And we had to go over the river...

And through the woods to Grandma's again...

Which was an interesting experience, now that we live in a rural area. They don't plow dirt roads.

They barely plow the paved ones.

Even when we got into the closest "major city"...


We saw several cars stuck in the ditch on the way there.

But we, luckily, weren't one of them. Lots of tractors out plowing their driveways. Michael was jealous. He had to use the snowblower. But it was better than a shovel!





We made it to Grandma's and back again without incident.

And it was a truly lovely drive...

Wordless Wednesday: December 19. 2007

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Blizzard!

And I don't mean the Dairy Queen kind.

We actually have a real live blizzard warning in effect for our county. Is that cool, or what? I wouldn't be saying that if this wasn't a Sunday, I suppose, but it's kind of nice to be out here in the middle of nowhere with all this snow around. And since I don't have to shovel it (yay for husbands!) or even go out in it...

The weather outside is frightful.

But the fire is so delightful.

And since we've no place to go.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

This is the normal amount of snow we usually get. Three to four inches or so at a time. But this picture is just the blowing snow on the porch, which is under an overhang!

This is actually how much snow we have.

Cars? We have cars?

The kids playing in our backyard.

OOF!

PULL!

Long way to go!

Hi Mom!

The wind is swaying the trees like twigs, gusting up to 50 mph.

And what would a blizzard-y day be without hot chocolate and mom's homemade cookies?

Nine more days until Christmas... the kids are counting down... Maybe we'll have a white one after all!

Wordless Wednesday: December 5, 2007

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Mommy Zen

I'm resting on my bed flipping through channels. Thinking about sleeping. But not. The kids are running up and down the stairs, screeching at each other and the dog, which pretty much precludes the sleeping part of our program.

Zoe opens my door a crack, "Mom, Dmitri's chasing me."

"Okay."

The door closes. It's starting to snow outside. Big, fat flakes.

"Mom, Dmitri's trying to color on me with a blue crayon!"

"Okay."

There's nothing on TV. I should get up and do the dishes, but every time I get up to do something, I remember I'm still not feeling 100%.

The door opens again. "I meant a green crayon. He's trying to color on me with a green crayon."

"Okay then." I just watch it snow. More interesting than Oprah.

What? You would have taken the crayon? You underestimate the power of mommy zen. Being, not doing. Trust me, young padwan.

"Mommy, here's the crayon." Zoe puts it next to the TV. "Dmitri wants to go outside and play in the snow."

"Okay."

"Can I go, too?"

"Sure." I listen to her bounding down the stairs and call after her: "Snow pants!"

And off they go to play in the big, wet flakes.

Yes, okay, so the dog's ear was a tinge green when he came up to join me on the bed. But, remember, crayons are non-toxic. Didn't you read the box?

Being - not Doing. The Art of Mommy Zen.