Remember when I was all ‘we should move to Montana!’ Oh, how the mighty big talkers have fallen. If being in Montana in December has taught me one thing it’s that I completely lack the ability to live permanently in this state.
Y’all…it’s flippin’ freezing here. And I don’t mean ‘hmmm, it’s a little chilly out today, I should have worn a jacket.’ No, I mean ‘hmmm, it’s a little chilly out today, if I don’t get inside soon I’m going to literally FREEZE TO DEATH.’
They are trees layered in snow and frost. The smaller trees curl over at the top and look like candy canes. They look like, well, they look like something you would see in a Dr Seuss book. Or something from a children’s board game.
“And then when you get to the white candy cane cane forest roll the dice and pick a card.”
It’s intensely cold and wonderful and beautiful and harsh. Maybe I’m just not used to skiing in the winter. We are spring skiing kinda people. So all this bundling and binding up is new to us. Ya know what I usually ski in? Jeans. I know it’s redneck but it’s comfortable! Now I have three layers on plus my ski pants.
We went to Glacier the first day we got here and it was lovely. And cold. Have I mentioned the cold yet?
The minions don’t mind it as much as I do. They basically have one goal while we are here and that is to wallow in the snow as much as possible.
The lake at the lodge at Whitefish is about to freeze over.
Apparently, as soon as it does they ice skate and play broom ball on it.
It’s a strange place, Montana. The sun doesn’t come up until around 8:15 each day. Can you imagine dropping kids off at school in the dark? The good news is that this causes all my late sleepers to sleep even later – which is nice on vacation.
Last night we went on a sleigh ride and honestly the less said about it the better. It was cold. And my youngest was nightmarish and the older two were horsing around and broke an expensive table. People…it was bad. Bad, bad, bad. Oooh! Oooh! And as an added bonus both sets of parents are here to watch us parent ineffectively. Well, it keeps us humble, right?
For real, Stella never hit the terrible twos and I was just starting to think that we had managed to avoid that stage. And for some reason she decided to begin acting like a…a…a dang neanderthal on this trip. She grunts, throws tantrums, cries anytime she doesn’t get her way…it’s all very troublesome. And by troublesome I mean it makes me want to pull my hair out.
Stella, age 3:
Serene and sweet
Stella, age three and three months:
True Story.
Well, at least we are in Montana.