Spring

I never had spring fever before Annie. I liked the winter; bundling up with the prospect of snow which would give me a good reason to work from home. Having a baby in the winter means shoving little spaghetti arms into layers upon layers of clothes, only to strip them down when you get to Target (that's the only place I go, I feel), then wipe the cart down with 114 wipes because it's cold and flu season and your child loves nothing more than to "make out" with the grocery cart. Then shoving her back into all those clothes when it's time to leave (this is assuming you removed them in the first place; there have been several times where Annie is bundled to Ralphie proportions while scooting around Target) and if you are feeling EXTRA humanitarian-ish (that's a word, I am certain), you wipe down the cart because it's your child that has a steady drip at the nose and she's slimed the entire thing down but good.

Given this level of effort, it's no surprise that I often opted to not go anywhere with Annie during the winter. And so there we would be, hanging at the crib, and I am sure there were a few times I caught her staring at me with a "oh it's you again, and this basement, and these toys....excellent" type of countenance. I love my baby girl, but I think we were both getting sick of the view in that house.

I have never been more thankful for spring than I am this year. I can say that with 100% certainty. Annie pulled her socks off this morning on the way to Jen's, as she does EVERY morning, and I didn't have to worry about her getting frostbite in the transfer from the car to the house. No hats to constantly reattach to her little head, the nose is not running (knock wood), the sleeves are short today, Rick and I slept with a window open, and the tree is blooming in the front yard.

Spring tastes extra good this year.