on Groundhog Day, and making my own early spring

So does this winter blow chunks, or what? This Groundhog Day feels like this Groundhog Day: haven’t we had this snowpocalypse already this winter, like a hundred times? 

This was how I looked waiting for the bus this morning:

 while my three kids skated around me, saying “wheee!” and “look at the icicles Mommy!” I mostly ignored them, except when I hissed to get off the snow RIGHT NOW because I do not have an extra pair of pants for all of you.  I was getting drenched in frozen rain standing there at the bus stop, and if my kids were going to find a way to make it all fun, by God, I was going to be Mean and Cranky Mommy and squeeze all the joy right back out of it.  There is nothing fun about this winter, nothing at all, and apparently Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow this morning, which means an early spring, but all you have to do is look out the window to know that that is complete and utter groundhog poop. It will be winter forever, it is going to precipitate on my head every morning at the bus stop, and the sun will never shine again.

I fear that Bill Murray wears this bad attitude better than I do. 

There is always a silver lining: I am off to move Groundhog Day to the top of my Netflix queue, since it just might be the best movie ever. (Here’s someone who agrees with me). And it’s PG, and I think 6 and 8 just might be old enough to have a nascent appreciation of the genius of this motion picture. Just thinking about Seamus cuddled up with me on the couch, giggling helplessly, is melting my sleet-encrusted heart a tiny bit. Maybe spring really is on the way.

Are you doing anything to pick up your spirits during this long winter of our discontent?