I’m
about to make an unexpected trip to the United States - and I’ve just
realized it’s January over there. (Listen, it’s surprisingly difficult to keep up
with the month
when the weather stays the same year-round. Don’t judge.)
I
have experienced exactly one winter in the last eight years and it was only for a few weeks. We went to
the States for Charlotte’s first Christmas. I remember nothing except
feeling exhausted
and nauseous the entire time, which I blamed on cold weather. Then I
learned I had been pregnant for an embarrassingly long time, without a
clue. And that is my memory of the last time I was cold.
And this is what happened to Charlotte's beautiful face. Windburn and chapping. It wasn't pretty.
Every
June when we get back to the States, I look around at everyone and
think, "Wow, you've all made it through another winter. You've worn so
many layers
of clothing. How did you do it?!"
And so, I’m
trying to mentally prepare for the cold. It’s like when there are too
many air conditioners on, right? Or maybe it’s more like that time a few
weeks ago
when I wore long sleeves because it had just rained and there was a light
breeze?
I
can’t stress how much I hate the cold. When I was little I was
literally allergic to being cold. I would break out in hives and have to
take warm oatmeal
baths. I slept under an electric blanket in the summer. Yesterday
Charlotte said she was “SO COLD” and wanted to take a warm bath. It was
one of the hottest days of the year…in the tropical Congo. She is not
coming with me on this trip.
This time it's just me and Annaïs and she's only experienced winter in utero. Next Post: Baby’s First sub 85° Weather.
