Dear WInter,

Dear Winter,

You and I both know that we've had a long turbulent relationship. Let's just be honest: I don't really like you and you don't really like me. It's not me; it's you.

But putting aside our personal differences, for the sake of my children I must ask you to pack your bags and leave us. We've tried our best to be good hosts. But we've tolerated all we can take. You have worn your welcome out to the point that you are not invited back next year. But knowing you as I do, you will come even without our extended invitation.

When I went to change Eden for bed tonight, before my hands had even reached her, she started exclaiming "Cold hands!! Cold hands!! Mama (has) cold hands!!"

And that's when I knew, dear Winter: It's time for us to part ways.

I look at my bright lavender spring jacket with longing. And I gaze upon my worn out winter boots with disdain. I want to wear different clothes. I want to wear flip flops!!! I want to put sun screen on my face because I actually need it, not merely out of wishful thinking.

We drive by the park with wistful sad faces. Is there any sight more depressing than a playground covered in snow?

So please, my petulant enemy of Winter! Resign your position and retire to the Arctic Circle.

Sincerely and imploringly,

The Mother with Cold Hands

Love,