I Kinda Love This Weather

If there is one thing that has been on my last nerve lately, it's this whole thing where people have been whining endlessly about it being cold and snowy. In Pittsburgh. In January.

Let's all take a second and wrap our brains around that. Can you believe it's cold and snowy? In Pittsburgh? In January?

Anyway, I want to whine endlessly about the endless whining about that which should be expected, but I think whining about whining is almost as bad as just whining. So.

North Dakota.

I grew up there.

I think that means I know a thing or two about cold and snow and ice. Despite the fact that it's about 246346798 bajillion times worse there in January than it is in Pittsburgh, I still have a lot of fantastically fun memories about winter growing up. For example:

-- Our back yard had a low spot right smack in the middle of it. Each fall, that low spot would fill with water and by December it was frozen solid. Since it rarely gets above 20 degrees in winter in North Dakota, it would stay frozen for a solid three months or so, leaving lots of opportunities to ice skate in our back yard. My friends and I had a great time doing waltz jumps and sow cows on our own personal ice rink.

-- School doesn't get canceled in North Dakota. Ever. Well, I take that back. I actually remember twice that school was canceled because of weather. The first time was when I was in second grade and it snowed twelve feet in less than 24 hours. The second time was in high school when the governor declared a state of emergency because the temperature was around -40 degrees and the windchill was something even more obscene. I spent that -40 degree time hanging out at the mall with my friends. Somewhere along the line, I managed to lock my keys in my car with it running. That may not sound like much fun, but at the time, it was absolutely hysterical trying to figure out how to break into the car when it was too cold to stand outside for more than a second or two at a time.

-- The Great Pizza Experiment always made for a good time. A friend of mine happened to be part of a family that owned a pizza shop. Anytime a pizza was a waste pizza and we were around, we would throw it out into the parking lot and watch how long it took to go from piping hot to so frozen you could shatter it by throwing it at the ground.

And this is probably where you were thinking I had a totally lame childhood. True fact. But, what else are you supposed to do when it's below zero and the snow is up to your chin?

It's a New Years Miracle

Look! Look! Look!

LOOOOOK!

Do you see it?

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!?!

A HAIRCUT!

Not the dog. The kid!

Yes, folks, you should mark your calendars, call your neighbors, and honor this occasion. It took three years, eleven months, and eight days, but the kid FINALLY got a haircut. Her first!

Sure, I've trimmed a stray strand or two over the years, but it took until good ol' 2010 for the kid to need a real haircut. It was EPIC. She sat on the floor, I trimmed a little here and there, and when she stood up? There was totally enough hair on the floor to make a mohawk wig for a Barbie doll. Maybe even two!

I actually had to drag out the vacuum to clean up the itty bitty little mess.

At this rate, her next haircut will be in 2013. I might even pay someone for that one.

What Comes Around Goes Around

If parenting is Karmic retribution for things you did to your own parents when you were a kid, HOLY CRAP did I talk back a lot. Er, I mean, Mr. Husband must have talked back a lot. Surely I was a perfect angel. Who talked back a lot.

Anyway, Alexis' mouth frequently writes checks her little butt can't cash. I think in some ways it's a side effect of her having a pretty solid vocabulary; her mouth knows how to say phrases that her brain doesn't fully comprehend. For example, today she told me, "I'm right and you're wrong." I'm sure her brain understands all those words, but I don't think it realizes that stringing them together is a very bad, no good idea. Although, she may have figured it out shortly after she said it.

As we sat gathered around a bowl of tortilla chips and some salsa at a local restaurant this afternoon, Alexis' mouth ran away without her brain. I don't exactly recall what she said but that's mostly because there was so much backtalk and sass and generally brattery that I lost track of the specific incidents. She has a firm grasp on the concept of Stranger Protection--the idea that she can push the limits a little further as long as there are strangers around to protect her. She also knows that the second we leave, she's toast and that she had better not push it so far that we leave early just because of her.

As we walked out the door, she wisely shut her little trap. She kept it shut all along the drive home and for a while after we had settled back in at the house. Then she said, "Momma, get me some cake."

A demand.

I glared at her.

She cowered slightly, smiled a little, and said, "Pleeeeeeease?"

I glared again. "After you were so bad at the restaurant, I'm pretty sure I won't be getting you any cake."

The look on her face said, "Crap! You remember that!" Her mouth said, "But momma, I'm apologizing!"

"It's a little late for that, my dear," I told her.

"But I apologizing!" she repeated.

I had to turn away to keep her from seeing me laugh at her odd grammar choices. "If you want cake, you're going to have to learn to be nice when we go out to eat," I said over my shoulder.

Back and forth we went, her pointing out that she was using her manners and that she was apologizing and that she was "Being nice now," and me not caring. Once she decided that she wasn't going to get anywhere with her mean mother, she ran downstairs to hang out with her dad. By then, she had forgotten all about the cake and instead set out to get to watch Hannah Montana.

Let's just say his memory isn't quite as good as mine. Either that, or he's nicer than me.

Anyway.

This is probably where I should apologize to my parents for talking back so much as a kid because OH MY HELLS BELLS do I ever (now) understand how frustrating that had to have been. It's a wonder they let me live. But, rather than apologize, I think I'll just point out that it was probably their fault anyway. My talking back was just payback for some sin they committed against their parents.

Neener neener.