And therefore Mangoes and snow do not get along. Especially not when those snows come 28 inches at a time, which ours did this weekend.
We awoke on Saturday morning to find ourselves snowed in. Quite literally. The snow crept so high up the doors (all three) that we simply could not leave our house…through a door.
Being a dutiful wife, I cooked Christopher a hearty snow shoveling breakfast and sent him out the window into a drift of snow that covered him instantly (he went out head first) and left him eating his way frantically out of the snow. Poor man/my hero.
Fueled by bacon, eggs, cheese, and Irish coffee, he shoveled and shoveled and shoveled. And shoveled. All day. He came inside for lunch and then disappeared back into the winter wonderland for another few hours. When all was said and done, he had cleared quite the path. And he was beat…until Sunday, his birthday, when the rest of the shoveling awaited.
A bit more pleasant than Saturday, Sunday greeted us with warm sunshine that melted some of the snow. The cars were left to clear (I could help!) and minor driveway work, but other than that we were in the clear. We finished the snow work by lunchtime and were free to enjoy an afternoon of peace and quiet before the Celtics/Nuggets game that night.
Oh, and while Chris was shoveling all day Saturday I busied myself nicely as well. I finished the touch-up work needed in Mango’s room, made some pretzel rolls, and tackled the mountain of laundry we created throughout the week. All was not lost in trashy magazines and daytime TV. Speaking of Mango’s room, here you are – it’s a work in progress still but we’re getting there, and it’s very exciting!
We’re back at work this week, 33 weeks and counting. The intensity of the kicking has increased as Mango soaks up more and more room in the belly. The excitement also continues to build as we creep towards March 31st…this weekend is my birthday, followed by two baby showers the next two weekends, and then we’re in March and March means maybe Mango and maybe Mango means holy moley we’re parents and then the world changes in ways we cannot even fathom but somehow know will be fun and exhausting but still fun and did I mention fun? Because it’s going to be…fun. A tiny little version of us to pester day and night (and to be pestered by day and night)? Fun.