The only time matching outfits are acceptable

is when they're accidental. Prepare to be bowled over by cuteness.

Remember the fiasco/joyous time that was the cabin I told you about? It involved two other babies. The only thing cuter than my child is my child surrounded by OTHER babies (I'm a little partial over here.) When we all realized that we had independently bought the same outfit for our children, in 3 different colors (thank you Carter's for spamming the world with your clothing) the natural conclusion is a lineup. We really should have given them numbers.

And then, on top of it, our neighbor the photographer shone his talents on our daughters. Naturally, my favorites are the ones with MJ front and center, but they're all pretty darn cute.

We already have a rent-a-cop keeping the boys from entering our block without an escort.

See my child in the back there? This is one of MJ's favorite poses. Tears don't convey enough of the dramz, the backwards head flail really seals the deal for her. This is because we just took away her cell phone and told her her boyfriend can't spend the night. 

But, thankfully, the offense was quickly forgotten. Happiness, smiles.

This is the face she makes when she's about to kiss Baby Boy S. It works for now but once she has braces she may go for a more subtle approach.

Cloth diapering... what I wish I'd known then

This is an update to my last cloth diaper post.  A few things that have changed, or not changed, since then.  Nothing dramatic, mind you.  Still very happy with our cloth dipaers and our laundry methods.  Just a few notes.  I'm not claiming I wasn't told these exact same things.  But when you discover it for yourself it seems like you were the first one to discover it.  So here's some cloth diapering realizations I've been pondering lately...

1.  They really do reach an age where they can take the diaper off.  And it turns out it's easier to take a velcro diaper off than a snap one.  If we keep some sort of onesie on her it's fine.  And I suspect that once she figures out how to take the onesie off then a snap on diaper will be no match for her either.  For this reason, and the fact that the velcro on our one-size diapers is fraying a bit, I've started rethink my velcro-love-snap-hate stance.  I still prefer velcro, hate putting a snap-on diaper on her (she's far too squirmy for the extra 3-seconds it takes.)  Would I change my original stance?  Probably not.  But if I had a less active child I might.

2.  We've rediscovered prefolds thrown in a cover.  They are great.  We have again started using our orange-edge newborn prefolds from Greenmountaindiapers.com months after I retired them.  They actually work better just tri-folded than they used to, because the covers that fit MJ are now large enough that the preolds easily fit in the cover.  Furthermore, since MJ is mostly on solids, she doesn't pee boatloads like she used to and these easily contain all the fluid.  If she wasn't in daycare we could easily survive on these prefolds and thirsties covers.  Cheap and just as easy as our fancy-pants bumgenius.  Maybe a few others for night time.  But that's all it would take.

3.  The nasty poop that happens as they transition to solids is only temporary.  It gets better, I promise.  There were a couple months of sheer grossness from her half-liquid half-solid poops.  I dreaded spraying her diapers.  Now it has gotten better.  As a side note, if you hate spraying diapers as much as I do, these diaper liners are a great compromise.  Oh yeah, and we've had to start washing on hot.  Turns out her poops have gotten smellier.

4.  Who knew that diaper laundry would become my husband's favorite chore?  He sees it as saving money every time he does them, and gets immense joy out of it.  Pass this along to any husband doubters.  Secrely, it's one of my favorite chores too, but I'll let him have this one.

5.  That's it for now.  We've been cloth diapering for 10+ months now and figure we have made our money back.  Every time we put a diaper on her now it's like putting money in the bank.  And I say this as someone who has a huge stash (I think we could go 6 days without washing if we wanted to, not that I recommend it.  Just sayin.)  And we have expensive diapers, too.  And we're not hauling boatloads of trash to the curb.  And MJ isn't sitting in chemicals all day, every day.  To anyone thinking of taking the plunge, do it.  Give into peer pressure.

The return of MJ

So nice to have you back.

We have all survived.

It was one of those weekends, preceded by one of those weeks, which was also preceded by one of those weekends.  It was a relentless string of difficult moments, and we have all come through it unscathed. 

Last weekend DH worked, leaving me to solo childcare.  He recently finished his residency, meaning he recently entered the realm of people with more normal, less hellish work hours.  Meaning I have recently discovered how much easier it is to have a child when you have the help of a spouse.  I'm certain being a single mother is more difficult than this past year has been for us, but much of the time I've come close.  The combination of having a spouse who works all the time and having no family nearby makes for exhausting weeks.

Since June, DH has had a more normal schedule.  And I have been soaking in the luxury of a 2-parent household.  Last weekend was a brief return to having him gone all the time, and a reminder of how much easier our life has become. 

On Monday, after DH had been up for 15 hours, MJ had a fever, forcing us to keep her home.  Since last week was my last week of teaching, and I had gotten nothing done all weekend, he had to stay with her.  This was followed by the week of sick.  MJ was in and out of daycare, after we thought she was better and it turns out she was not.  Tuesday evening took me to the ER, for fear of appendicitis that turned out to be an unfortunate combination of unrelated symptoms.  I didn't get admitted, but I did get Dilaudid.  Can't say I understand the appeal. 

Thursday brought a 104 degree fever to MJ and a concerned visit to the pediatrician.  She had an ear infection.  We started her on antibiotics.  We joined our neighbors at their cabin, somewhat regretting the decision when MJ spent two-thirds of the weekend screaming and I continued to recover from the stomach pains that landed me in the ER in the first place.

But on Saturday night, the calm returned.  Or the beginning of the calm.  Not really calm, exactly, since that hasn't existed in 10+ months.  But joy.  I finally felt better.  Yesterday, MJ returned.  We remembered what it's like to have a happy kid.  We really did have a glorious weekend, if you discount the screaming.  We feel so lucky to have met such fun people, who live so close, whose children are so close in age to MJ.  Who will not be leaving in the near future to follow a string of post-docs, as so many of our friends are going to soon start doing. But the return of our joyous, happy, rambunctious child was really the best part.  And the fact that DH and I got through this hellish week with few arguments and even some fond memories. 

My daughter, the flirt

There is no greater feeling in the day than showing up at daycare and being met by the hugest smile MJ could possibly fit on her little face.  Even if she's in the middle of a woe-is-me fest, she will stop so that she can express pure joy at seeing me.  No matter how my day has been, that moment is all that matters.

A few weeks ago I walked into daycare and noticed that MJ was sitting in her high chair separate from the rest of the babies. She was not particularly bothered by it and was far more interested in her Cheerios.  (She is alwas far more interested in her Cheerios than anything else going on around her.  THANK GOD FOR CHEERIOS.)  But are you as curious as I was?  Why? WHY WAS SHE SEQUESTERED IN THE CORNER?

It turns out that she had been so preoccupied by smiling at baby boy S, that she could not be bothered to eat.  So they had to move her to where she could no longer see S so she would focus on eating.  Did I mention that she likes her Cheerios?  A lot?  That Vito could waltz by wearing firecrackers while singing Lady GaGa and MJ would not bother to look up from her Cheerios?  And what distracts her from her Cheerios?  A boy.  A boy. 

S is the only other baby in the room who is also mobile, so they love to play together.  But last week, one of the daycare staff informed me that she had to intervene when she caught them going in for an open mouth kiss.  Moms of babies, you know the kind of ::nom:: I'm talking about.  Less of a kiss and more of an open- mouthed-attempt-to-eat-your-face-all-the-way-off.  Still. 

And I saw it with my very own eyes this week.  MJ was standing, playing with a plastic fish, and S kept pulling on her ruffles and causing her to fall.  Eventually, MJ turned around and went in for the full-on face plant.  The scary part, though, is that she looked like she knew what she was doing.  It looked intentional.  My little girl is already smooching on the boys.

Here she is, practicing kissing the mirror and pretending it's S.

We have a walker.

10 months and 4 days.  Only ~3 steps, but she repeated it 3 times.  I've been told after those first initial steps they become a "walker" very quickly.  And I'm also told that everything forever after changes.  I must confess, I'm skeptical.  She can already pull herself up on everything and has been for months now.  She already gets into everything she can possibly reach.  As far as I can tell, the only thing that will change is that she'll move faster (a negative, mind you) and that I don't have to carry her all the time in public.  Because a baby crawling around on the floor of a restaurant is inappropriate, but a baby running around is simply annoying.

I've been negligent, apologies.  I guess you could say I've had writer's block.  Or, alternately, you could just say I've been happy.  I tend to use this blog for two things: to commemorate MJ's life, and as a place to vent.  I haven't felt much need to vent of late, and MJ keeps me too busy to spend much time reflecting.  As in, really, really busy.  It is vindicating when even her daycare talks about what an extremely high energy child she is.  She's great at entertaining herself, if I let her entertain herself the way she wants.  But once she sets her sights on something, all hell breaks loose.  Like, say, her love of baths.  Meaning if she gets a peak at the bathtub she puts all her energy into climbing into it, eating the soap and grabbing for my razor.  And screams bloody murder if I interfere with her.  I've been told that parenting at this age is mostly about distraction, but she is not easily distracted.  Headstrong, as my mother in law put it.  Very, very headstrong. 

It helps that she's such a loud child.  I can be in another room and hear exactly where she is and what she's doing.  And my saving grace (on rare occasions) is the happy squeal she lets out when she sees something that is not supposed to be available to her is.  Like, if the door to the downstairs is open, or the lid is off the dog bowl.  The gleeful squeal is unmistakable, and I then know to run to wherever she is.

When you go on vacation...

... for the first time without your little one, and your mother-in-law sends you this picture, your heart just melts.

Poo in a jar, blueberry poo, and my picky child

I have this post that has been sitting in rough draft purgatory for weeks.  Months, probably, because my sense of time has completely collapsed.  You know what it was about?  My 2 cents about how to make your kid a fantastic eater.

Seriously.  MJ has been fantastic at the food stuffing of the face.  As in, can't get enough of the broccoli.  And I was proud.  I liked to think it was my commitment to making all her food from scratch.  And because I'm a fantastic cook.

But it turns out none of these statements are true.  She is no longer my showcase stuffing-of-the-face child.  As in, I will eat blueberries, blueberries, and more blueberries, until even my poo smells like blueberries.  It makes diaper changes kind of pleasant, but then you realize you're enjoying the smell of her poo and remember that that's gross. 

And furthermore, she now picks up the food off her tray that is not deigned worthy of her lips, looks at me, lifts up her tiny baby arm and dramatically drops it on the ground.  She then says with a french accent "How dare you feel mama-smugness!  I will show you!"

On a side note, today I was teaching my students about methane clathrates.  And one student volunteered a cheerful tidbit about some kids who were saving poo in a jar and trying to get high from the methane.  I swear to you, MJ, that if you are ever that desperate to get high I will go buy you some whiskey.  I'm certain I will regret saying that someday, so I'll go ahead and take it back now.

9 months

I have now done more parenting outside the womb than within it.  More of MJ's development has occurred since I first met her than before I met her.  I frequently think of last year at this time.  Last year at this time I was busy getting the nursery ready.  I was huge, and pregnancy was very real.  I thought I had connected with the child within, but I was wrong.  I didn't imagine... the personality that was in  there.  I could picture the smiles, and the hugs, and the cries.  But not this little ball of person and non-stop cuteness.  I guess that's it: I could conceptualize that I was growing a baby, but not that I was growing a person.  And she becomes more of a person every day.  If I smile at something she does she loves it, and so she keeps doing it, just so I'll smile more.  She is into everything, a roaming ball of curiosity.  Sitting still is IMPOSSIBLE.  She laughs uncontrollably when I tell her "no", which means I laugh; the idea of "no" is definitely not getting across. At least, not the part that I want to get across.

Within the past week one good friend told us she was pregnant, and a new friend gave birth.  The circle of life doesn't get old: it's fascinating, exciting and terrifying.  I have such fear, sympathy, envy and joy for what they're going through.  The fear and sympathy aren't for anything they're doing, just memories of my own feelings at those points in time.  And within one short year it seems MJ and I have become resident experts on all things baby. I've also started to realize that some people classify one year and up as toddler.... I am not ready for that.  Despite the fact that MJ is thinking about walking, and is already "toddling" her way through the day, she's still a baby, right?  Do babies only last a year?  How did I let it go by? 

I feel like I'm recovering from a terrifying rollercoaster (which I know I am still very much on) and now have the "again! again!" feeling of a 7 year old. 

MJ is wonderful. Our sleep issues are (mostly) getting ironed out.  The tradeoff is that she must be in her bed at bedtime.  There is no flexibility, and some nights I feel like a prisoner in my own life.  But she sleeps well, wakes up happy and is an utter joy to be around.  So I guess that's a pretty fair trade.  From the moment she wakes at 5:30 it is go time. As someone who is most definitely not a morning person, it's been hard for me to adjust to that.  But now that the house is largely childproofed (or, more specifically, MJ proofed, because there's still a lot that a baby could get into) I can sit back a little bit, particularly because she's pretty good at entertaining herself.  Which is fascinating to watch.  The kid LOVES to dance.  Tonight I had GLEE on and she held onto the speaker and shook her booty.  She has more moves than I do, which doesn't really give her due credit. 

We've started the back carry with the Beco Butterfly and it's amazing.  While I'm still a die hard Moby fan, she's getting heavy and the front carry was doing a number on my back.  This is SO much more comfortable, and she seems plenty happy.  The downside?  I can't actually see her (which mainly just makes me sad) and she loves to pull my hair.  So I'm rocking the high half-pony tail.

Anyway, that's many of the mundance details of our life as we enter into her 10th month.  I NEVER imagined I would love being a mom so much.  I credit my love of being a mom to having such an amazing kid, but regardless.  The outside baby is much better than the inside one.  Nine months from this point she'll be a year and a half.  Most definitely a toddler.  Probably more frustrating.  More fascinating. And more of a person.

Vito's adjusting...

but his life will never be the same.

Just wait til she finds the vacuum cleaner

At first it seemed easier to just hire a live in housekeeper, but she seems to be getting the hang of it pretty quickly.

When to have a family: what they don't tell you

We talked a lot about when we wanted to start a family.  We came to absolutely no conclusions, but at least we talked about it.  I take that back, we did come to a conclusion: that the time would never feel right until my ovaries were shriveled little prunes.  So we should just take the plunge, because most good things in our life we hadn't felt ready for. 

So we "stopped trying".  Which makes me laugh, in retrospect.  No one wants to admit that they're "trying" to get pregnant, because that's like admitting "We're trying to grow a watermelon in my uterua, then expel it through an orange-sized hole, and then raise it for 18 years in the prison that will become our life (who are we kidding, it's really 30 years these days.)  Partly because I think stretch marks are very "in" right now, and partially because our life has just been going too swell lately.  So instead we say "We weren't trying, but we weren't trying to prevent it."  Because to admit that we're crazy enough to WANT to turn our life upside down is ... crazy.  But I digress.

So we eventually "stopped trying to prevent". And that was our very half-assed way of making a decision.

But what I never thought about is what sort of family makeup I wanted.  How close in age do I want our kids to be (because an only child was not an option)?  Actually, I did think about it, and knew that I wanted them close in age. 

But you knew what never occurrd to me?  That to have children close in age means having two small children at the same time. It means that, when you are still recovering from the trauma that was growing-a-person-in-your-uterus you have to start thinking about doing it all again.  Except this time you've actually been there.  You know how much day care costs.  You know for a fact that you can't fit two car seats in EITHER of your cars without permanently implanting your knee caps into your molars.  So when your baby hits 3 months old and you realize if you want your children to be a year apart you better get pregnant TODAY and schedule an early c-section, you start to rethink things. 

In case you couldn't tell, I'm not totally speaking hypothetically here.  We've started to have these talks.  And I want my kids to be close in age.  I don't want to have to fight the biological clock.  But the idea of getting pregnant again right now is not appealing.  Some days the idea of having another little one, and additional chaos, makes me feel all fluttery and maternal, but some days it makes me feel stabby.  Right now those days are pretty evenly split.  It seems like the stabby days should be a smaller proportion before we commit.  Furthermore, I'm really enjoying my PhD program right now, I really see reasons I want to stay and finish, and I fear that having a second may make that impossible. I can justify continuing to work and pay for childcare for one child, but for two?  The math requires more credit-default-swaps, or some such creative accounting.  But I could be in this program for a long time yet, so maybe that's not enough justification. 

Ultimately, it doesn't "feel" right.  But when you're staring at 30 and still want to have a few more kids, do you ignore the "doesn't feel right" part and just suck it up?  Didn't we always say that if we wait for it to feel right we'll never find the right time?

My baby can share

I've been prepping all sorts of lovely posts lately.  But I had my proudest mama moment the other night and it simply trumps everything.

MJ shared with me.  We were sitting on our patio soaking in the hot-hot-heat, while MJ sat on my lap eating Cheerios out of a bowl in my hand.  I was curious if she would give me any.  So I opened my mouth and went "Ahhh" ala-dentist style.  She looked confused at first.  Why does Mom want my Cheerios?  But after a moment of scrunched-up-face-pondering she crammed her grimy little baby hand in my mouth.  It wasn't easy to eat Cheerios this way, and I understand why half end up on the floor.  But?  But?  MORE importantly, she shared. 

So then we spent the rest of the bowl sharing.  She would put some in my mouth, I would put some in her mouth.  It was such a HUMAN moment.  Vito would NEVER have shared his food with me if I asked.  Rolling over: cool.  Sitting up: alright.  Crawling: entertaining.  But sharing?  It's the first on a long road to the real person we're raising.  Perhaps she's been capable of this for a while and I just didn't realize it, but it made me all glowy inside.

I shared this story with Grandma (and everyone I know, really); she raised doubts that this can really be considered sharing.  It's not sharing if it's Mom, apparently.  But I don't care, I'm going to insist on thinking my child is capable of empathy.

::who me?::

It's an anatomical miracle, but her eyes truly are larger than her stomache.

Mama Fashion

The other day, when I picked up MJ from daycare, I quickly saw that if I took the long way home she would fall asleep in the car.  So I decided the long way home would be a stop by Sears to buy a garden hose.  Ferrying pitchers of water from the faucet to the garden 50 feet away seemed inefficient before MJ; it has recently become a matter of vegetable life or death.

So, garden hose.  Sears makes these great, indestructible, life-time warranty hoses and I'm tired of buying a new hose every year, only to have it mimic a geyser within a week.  So I bought the hose. And MJ was STILL asleep.

My route out of the store happened to take me through the Women's section.  Now, I'm not a fashionista, but I don't think I've ever bought clothes at Sears. Flat screen TV: Yes. Air conditioner: Yes. Garden hose: Yes.  But with MJ asleep this was my shot to actually buy clothes.

Some might argue that I didn't need to buy clothes. That some would be my husband.  But I'm going to start teaching my first real college class in a few weeks, and it dawned on me recently that I had no idea what to wear.  I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but geologists are a pretty grungy lot.  Lots of fleece and Carhartts.  This means that I don't have to worry much about how I look at work, other than wearing long pants to protect my legs from all the acid I inevitably spill.  In fact, I would get far more stares for dressing nicely than for wearing holey jeans to work.   

But I feel differently about teaching.  Maybe once I'm confident in my teaching abilities I won't feel the need to overcompensate with appearance.  But for the time being I feel the need to look professional.

I was a master of the Sears Women's department.  I would have made James Bond proud: get in, get out, don't be seen.  In 10 minutes flat I found 3 tops and two skirt WHICH ARE INTERCHANGEABLE.  Mastery.  My entire shopping personality has changed.  Time was I could try on clothes all day and maybe find one thing.  My sale radar was too strong to buy anything that wasn't at a rock-bottom price.  But when you have no idea how long baby girl will sleep indecision is not an option. 

Here are my finds.  What I need from you?  Your thoughts.  Are these professional?  Do they make me look dowdy (blue top, perhaps?) or trashy (black and grey top, perhaps?) or something else altogether. The tags are still on, this is your shot to save me from myself.  And what shoes does one wear?  On a side note, I definitely need to work on the biceps.

And for good measure, here's a dress that I bought from Ann Taylor Loft that I have yet to cut the tags off of.  The problem I discovered tonight is that the bra sticks out.  Probably not classroom appropriate.

And you may rest assured, the vegetables have been saved.  Thanks to Sears.

Adventures in gnawing, part II

 

Adventures in gnawing.

It's been a busy week. I gave y'all a task, you kindly obliged, and then I ran off without thanking you. While MJ didn't win the contest, she did land herself in the top five percent (okay, really the top 6 percent, but if you round... significant figures and what not.) So that's pretty sweet. I know that it's all a popularity contest. Okay, not even a popularity contest. An advertising campaign designed by Parents to get you to their website. But regardless, it makes me feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside people voted for her, even if their was some arm twisting involved.


Last week was MJ's 8 month birthday. It boggles my mind that she still hasn't been breathing oxygen for as long as she resided in my ute. It feels like she's been here forever, life before her arrival is a distant memory. She's been crawling up a storm and generally fascinated by the whole world. Although everything still goes in the mouth, after giving her an unplugged cord to chew on for a while she is less interested in chewing on all the cords plugged into the wall. But the forbidden is still the most sought after... I have not yet figured out any way to childproof the dog food or water bowl; if the dog food wasn't perfect choke-inducing size I would let her gnaw on some until she discovered it's really not very good. But instead, I have to constantly place it out of her reach and then remember to put it back so poor Vito doesn't starve. And for this reason it is the one thing that MJ is most fascinated by. She WANTS that dog food like you wouldn't believe. This doesn't bode well for drugs and boys later in life.

I love how she follows me around the house as I do chores. She's constantly curious what I'm up to, and participates in whatever way she can. She helped me unload the grocery bags yesterday, pausing for a while to gnaw on a leek. A long while, actually. 20 minutes of gnawing on a leek. Is this an acceptable chew toy for an 8 month old? We spend a lot of time in the kitchen, one of the few child proofed rooms in the house, as well as outside. I still love chewing on grass so I figure she can go to town.

I've become obsessed with buying organic and finally joined a Co-op (more on that to come.) We've been getting more adventurous with what we feed her: yesterday was lentils with onions, peppers and carrots. It was tasty, I brought some in for lunch today. I'm working on a leek concoction, and her preliminary opinion of leeks seems to be a good one.

Whenever we go out to eat she tries to grab everything off the table and off our plate. So sometimes we let her, expecting the reaction to be one of disgust, and usually we're wrong. This weekend she gnawed on a pickle for a while and loved it. I'm guessing this is not something you're supposed to feed an 8 month old, though I never see it explicitly stated. The assumption is probably that it doesn't need saying. Last week she gnawed on a lime for a while; despite a pause every now and then for a sour face she continued gnawing. Then I remembered that whole no-citrus-fruits-the-first-year bit. Parenting has so many rules.

I mock people who do this.

But here I am.  One of them.  (I also mock people who obsess about dandelions.  And what did I do yesterday?  Weed our front yard of every last dandelion.  It was like a dandelion genocide.  (Can we joke about that?  I have jewish friends who joke about the Holocaust, but maybe that's like the N word?  (And can we use parentheses inside of parentheses?)))

Anyway, one of those people.  Those people who put their kid in beauty pageants.  And otherwise attention whore their child.

But in a moment of weakness, I submitted MJ to the Parent's Magazine photo contest.  And now that I've done it, I feel compelled to try to get her votes.  So that one day I don't have to tell her "Yes, honey, I put your photo in a contest but no one voted for you but me."  How sad would that be?

So anyway, here I am, asking you to vote for my child.  There's no prize for you, but she is a cutie, isn't she?

You can click here to vote:  http://photos.parents.com/category/vote/photo/279297
You can vote once per day.
 And now let's never speak of this again. 

Thankful.

I must confess, this day has never meant much to me.  I always made an effort to make or buy a present.  Or a card.  As I've gotten older that effort has been less consistent.  But I confess that my efforts stemmed more from obligation than from real gratitude.  There are exceptions, and gratitude was always part of the package.  But this year is different.

I feel really, truly, utterly, completely thankful.  Both to my Mom and to DH's mom.  We are both lucky, and we know it.  We both have great mom's.  And we both know that we owe them everything.  But this is the first year that I get it.

On happy days, when MJ is all smiles and kisses and loves me more than anyone in the world, it makes me a little sad to know that she won't remember this.  That she'll remember all her teenage angst ridden years, but not her "mom-is-the-best-in-the-universe" years.  But then I remember I was the same.  I cooed and smiled just like MJ, I am sure.  And then spent years being ungrateful.  And my Mom just took it.  And still loves me, unconditionally.  And never even holds it against me (at least not that I know of.)

And the rough days?  When MJ just cries and refuses to sleep?  That's part of the package, too.  Those days when my Mom had no one around except two ungrateful children and she still loved us unconditionally?  I now know how hard that is (though still only the square root of that effort, because I'm sure two children is exponentially more difficult.)  This is the first year I can have any inkling of what my Mom went through.  And DH's mom.  We were both raised by two brave, strong, independent, loving, compassionate and totally wonderful women.  And we owe you everything.

::grumble::

I love me some Minnesota spring... but seriously?