Commence hibernation in 3 . . . 2. . . 1 . . .

Last night a winter storm dumped 6 inches of snow on us. The happy part of this was that when I got TDL up for the morning he looked out the window and said, "Oh! It's boo-ti-ful!" (He later said the same thing about the cheese samples at Gossners and the caramels for sale at the check-out counter. So I'm not sure it's a term reserved for the majesties of nature.) The other happy part is that we put snow gear on over our pajamas and made a snowman at 8:30am while I still had energy and good will. 

And then . . . came the rest of the morning. I had to go out because I needed to stock up on chicken breasts at the grocery store ($1.59 lb today only!) and I wanted to get Parmesan at Gossners factory store because I want to try that Skinny Spaghetti Squash Alfredo that's been all over the Pinterest. So. Spent the requisite 2 hours getting both kids dressed and fed and loaded into the car. 

Highlights:
TDL getting mad because I picked up his snow boots to hand to him. HE needs to pick up his snow boots. So he threw them and they landed on my face.

TDL throwing a fit once I got him in his car seat because I FORGOT TO BRING HIS PUZZLE. Note: He's never had a puzzle in the car, ever. But suddenly nothing says Puzzle Time like being in a car with a complete lack of flat surface.

Leaning in the car to retrieve the infant carrier and face-planting into the 6 inches of snow hanging over the back seat's door frame.

Keeping track of my grocery store assistant:

He actually does a really good job, but the other day he got a bit excited in the produce section and ran the cart into the back of my unprotected heel. So everyone in the store heard a screech followed by a loudly whispered "Fuuu-uuuu......" and all they saw was one crazy woman standing there saying half-swears, since the actual cause of said outburst was short and out of sight behind the produce tables. That same day we were in the parking lot when TDL saw our car and tried to dart out into traffic. When I lunged to grab him I cracked my kneecap on the grocery cart. Did not swear that time. 

TDL: "Mom, are you mad?"
Me: "Nope, I am not mad. I'm just crippled and dying."
TDL: "Oh, okay."

Getting back home is always fun too, because everything is just so wet and slushy and I'm obsessed with trying to get everyone to take their wet shoes off immediately. I try to prep TDL as we approach the door, while I'm carrying the heaviest infant carrier on the market in one arm and bags of groceries in another:

"Okay. So as soon as we walk inside we need to take our boots off. We're going to do it right away. Okay, here we are! Let's take our boots off! No. [Dark Lord,] come here. Boots! [Dark Lord,] your boots! Booooooooooooots! Come HERE and take off your boots!" All the while he shouts "Whaaaaat!!!" while running away from me. In fairness, he is taking his boots off. He just thinks it requires three laps around the living room first.

Another seasonal favorite: "Oh look, Dad has been home for lunch and didn't take his shoes off. He has left black puddles of icy slush all over the kitchen floor. Let's take our shoes off so it will be more fun when we step in that."

Clearly I need to start getting all Alaskan on everybody's trash. In Alaska, summer or winter, doesn't matter, the first thing you do when you walk into someone's home is take your shoes off. I think it's in the official state charter.

Alaska State Motto: Take your dang shoes off (or I will shoot you in the face with the gun that I most assuredly have).