Snow and birthdays

I really don't hate winter. I probably sound like I do most of the time. I absolutely love the concept of winter. Snow is a fun, wonderful thing if you don't have to go out and drive in it. Or worry about loved ones who are driving in it in my case because I wouldn't be caught dead driving in this crap.

I love making snowmen, which we haven't been able to do yet this year because all of the snow we've gotten has been too powdery. I love having snowball fights with the kids, but once again, that hasn't been possible this year. It's so very beautiful to look at and there's nothing I love more than sitting in a nice, warm house, drinking hot chocolate, watching the snow fall outside. This is the first time I've ever lived in a house with a fireplace and the idea of roaring fires with snow drifting down out the window is just so romantic.

The reality is quite different, though. Who knew that fires were such a pain in the ass? Sure, it roars for about 5-10 minutes but then it starts dying out and somebody (read: Wren) has to get up and stack more wood on it. There's no such thing as relaxing in front of a fire. Or at least, there isn't if you're Wren. One thing I have learned this winter is that a gas fireplace would be much more preferable. I think I'm just burnt out on winter and snow after the 3 feet we got in 2 days back in December. Being snowed in at Christmastime wasn't fun. And, of course, now that it's snowing again Boogie keeps running around saying "Christmas is coming back!" It probably doesn't help that I still have our tree and decorations all up. Ah, the life of a procrastinator.

Apparently, Boogie also thinks it's my birthday today. She spent over an hour telling me it's my birthday and that she's getting everything ready for my party. I caught her in the kitchen filling coffee cups with water from the cold water dispenser on the freezer. Despite the fact that I told her after 2 cups that she needed to quit because she was dirtying up all the cups in the house, she still ended up filling 9 cups, one for each of us and one for Luke who has been here since Saturday.

I wonder if I should just go along with the birthday idea. It's not like I usually get a birthday celebration in May, when my birthday actually is. I'm pretty sure she's taken some of her toys and wrapped them in towels for me to open. And it didn't help when Wren came back from picking up the kids and had a big cake that he just had to get from the store because it looked so good. Now Boogie thinks that's my birthday cake.

I was wondering how old I would be if I actually had as many birthdays as my kids have thought I should have. I figure that each of my kids has tried to celebrate my birthday at least 5 times in their young lives. 6 kids x 5 birthdays = 30 years old. Of course, since they don't acknowledge my REAL birthday, I think we could just leave it at 30 years old. I'm ok with that.

Hell, most people get older on their birthdays. I just became 3 years younger. Awesome.