I Know, I Know, I'm a Bit Late

I'm about 7.5 hours late from the post I promised for yesterday. Here is my gorgeous little sweetie.

She looks so much like all of her sisters. When I get home, I'll post pics of all four of them at this age and I bet even I will be confused. Her hair is the thickest of all our children and the darkest as well. She loves to suck--I've never had a binky kid-- one who is addicted to the thing. I'm thinking she's proving to be a bit of a fan!!!!

She's not super great with eating yet. She thinks that if she tries for about 2 seconds, then she's tried hard enough. Well, that doesn't work for me, so we are adjusting. She's also more hungry than I thought she'd be. I know it'll take time, but we'll figure this thing out together.

She loves to be swaddled, kissed, held, and snuggled. Her mommy, daddy, and all three sisters (and everyone else for that matter) are happy to oblige.

She's had some good periods of awake time where she'll spend some time talking to you about the (possible) swine flu pandemic, the American economy, and how dumb Miss California USA runner-up is. Yeah, I know she's so smart already!

We all got some decent sleep last night from about 3am-6am-- and that my friends is about the only sleep I've had since I woke from slumber Monday morning. There has been two 10 or 15 minute power naps and a one-hour stretch of sleep shortly after I delivered. Mama's ready for some z's! Oh, did I mention she spent all three of those hours tucked into the bend of my right arm? Yes, I know she's I am spoiled!

I'm going to spend some more time filming, staring at, and holding her, now. And I'll come back with some more pictures of my dark-haired beauty!

She's Here!

Our little girl has arrived! Unfortunately, her mama is tired, hot, and ready to eat-- I promise there will be pictures tomorrow!

Born at 9:06 pm after a long labor. Her head was turned sideways, thus stalling the progress to birth.

She weighs in as my smallest baby at 7lbs 0 oz. My other three were 7lbs 1oz, 7lbs 2oz, and 8lbs 15oz. I thought she'd be bigger, but luckily for me she wasn't!

Still don't know how long she is-- but I do know she is getting a bath as we speak!

All 9s on her apgars!

Did I mention that she's perfect, gorgeous and a 2lb smaller version of big sister Brownie with a full head of black hair and cheeks you want to munch on?

And as I adjust to my new normal tomorrow, I promise I will post some pictures of my little cutie.

Nope, Not Yet

Well, I got less than a peaceful night's rest...
too many, although, not strong/hard/long enough contractions stuck around during the night

and

these beds--they are so awful.

And I can't forget the hunger pangs! Guess who called me at 2 AM---mmmhhmmm, that's right! HUNGER!!!! And boy oh boy was that a loud call!

I finally got some Graham crackers 30 minutes ago and am now awaiting some wonderful breakfast food to be brought up to my room. And after breakfast we have some big plans!

LABOR!

We'll start the pitocin shortly after my eggs and tea--Bring it on!

Coming To You Live

This is the first time I've ever had wifi from my hospital room. I've gotta say--- I dig it!

I've had two really good contractions since starting the induction. At about the 10 minute mark I had my first picked-up-on-the-monitor contraction. YEAY! Seven minutes later, Bam! another one. We are due---wait a minute...

... okay, we were due for another one, and like clockwork- another one came.

I actually don't mind if I skip the sleep tonight and instead get this labor started and this sweet thing in my arms! Although, I'm sure Peach would not be the least bit pleased if this baby decided to make her appearance before she could get here. She's kind of been promised to be the first to hold her new sister.

I'm already starting to think about missing the big belly and feeling her kick-- so I snapped a last minute shot!

I figure it's a fair trade though-- the belly for the little bundle of love!

I Don't Want To Forget...

... how life was--the relatively same life I've lived for the past 18 months. Life with one loving husband, three young daughters, an outdoor cat and a dog who can never get enough attention.

I don't think I'm about to be hit with a sudden case of amnesia, but I am about to have a baby-wait, those things are almost the same, right?

I know that all of you moms out there can relate-- it seems that every time you add another person to your family, you almost forget what life was like before baby. Even when you add that first baby to your family, it's hard to imagine how you lived before her arrival. I always feel as if I've known this new little person my whole life-- kind of like she's one of my long-lost friends I need to sit down and get reacquainted with.

It's one of life's little mysteries that I don't quite understand. How can the everyday routine become so in the past so suddenly?

I'm happy to oblige with the newness of a sweet babe and all but forget what life was like beforehand; but, I love my life right now. Yes, it stressful and hectic and one crazy mess half the time, but it's also filled with giggles, (happy) screams, running around, chit chat, cuddles, snuggles, hugs, and kisses. Can you blame me for not wanting to forget that?

In reality, I don't think I'm going to miss out on much.

In reality, I'll just be adding to the loveliness.

In reality, there will be one more little girl for me to nurture, cherish, hug, kiss, and watch as she runs around our house (happy) screaming, giggling and chit chatting!

I guess, what it all comes down to is a new normal. It's not like I'm going to have absolutely no memory of the past 3 1/2 years; I'm just going to accept a new normal and never look back. But really, people do that all the time-- as humans, we're just expected to constantly adjust to a new normal!

And what a wonderful new normal I'm going to get to know!

What a Day!!!

It was opening day at our Downtown Farmer's Market this morning. I was really excited to finally get back into our Saturday summer routine. Of course there's not much grown in the midwest this time of year, but there are plenty of homemade goodies that can't be resisted-- cookies, cinnamon rolls, breakfast burritos, whole wheat pizza crusts, natural lotions and soy candles. I even spotted a few new vendors I think I'll be getting to know soon.

We followed up our Farmer's Market trip to a wonderful little local cafe. My husband and I have been dying to eat there for quite some time, but we have just never stopped in (it is quite a ways away from our neighborhood). Well, luckily my mom suggested we eat there this morning, and boy am I glad we did. They had some yummy-sounding menu items that are all homemade-- I did ask. Hubby and I got the breakfast burrito which they served with salsa, guacamole, sour cream, lettuce and 2 black olives- alongside some delicious made-in-house corn chips. The atmosphere is a quaint and a bit funky, and you can tell that it's family operated. Oh, and according to the girls, the best part of it all is that directly across the street is a nice little park-- seriously, perfect!!!

We headed for home after that and the little Bug passed out in Grammy's arms (while still seated and buckled into her car seat). We left Daddy and Bug at home while Grammy, the two older girls and I headed out for what sounded like some light, last-minute baby shopping. I was in need of a few frames for some upcoming baby photos, a few nursing bras, and some of those essentials like diapers, wipes, diaper cream, etc.

Due to some great coupons, this meant we had to hit more than a couple of stores-- Kohl's, Motherhood, and Target. After two hours of shopping and a little lunch stop, a very sore mama, Grandma and two tired toddlers made their way into Target at about 3:15 pm. We hit the hot spots-- the baby clothes section, cleaning products area, and health aisles-- and then headed straight for the checkout line. Grammy snapped this photo.

This sweet gal passed out during the last 5 minutes of our shopping adventure. But who can blame her? This is exactly how we were all feeling!!! I think I may have tried to convince Peach to push mommy in the cart. No, really!!!

Hmmmmmm...

Well, there's still not a lot of creativity flowing out of this vessel. The pain is getting a bit better-- I don't know if it's because I'm not noticing it as much (highly unlikely) or because I've learned to take it down a notch many notches. I have been off of my feet many more hours of the day than I'm used to. And I'm learning to be okay with that-- but learning is the key word here.

I know that I'm kind of a control freak, and it's times like this when I realize just how much of a control freak I am. If you would have asked me 5 or 6 years ago whether or not I had a controlling personality, I would have laughed and said, never ever would I!!

That was when I only had me and my schedule to worry about.

With every person added to this family, my controlling personality seems to blossom a little more. I try to be relaxed about things like others stepping up, or learning to keep my mouth shut when my opinion is not needed. I try to not control the manner in which my husband cleans something. I try to let some messes slide. I try to not worry and know that everything will be okay. But it's so hard!

Case in point-
I was reviewing our family calendar I have hanging in our kitchen trying to figure out a good date to be induced (because I really don't want to wait it out). First, I wanted it to be on a weekend or Monday so that Matt and I could clean and organize everything at home before leaving for the hospital-- otherwise I'd feel totally overwhelmed when I come home with Little Gal. When I found the weekends on either side of my 39th week, I discovered that Peach has an ice cream social at preschool, I've got a MOPS steering meeting, not to mention several other commitments and daily tasks to accomplish. I lost hope of my imagined planned-induction since it couldn't be done when I wanted it to be, and I made my way upstairs to confess to my husband.

Upon hearing my reasoning as to why we couldn't be induced when I thought we should, his remark sounded something like this,
Ummm... honey, this is the birth of our child. Somethings don't have to get done.

In my head, I immediately understood what he was saying (and it made sense), but I couldn't find comfort in his words. I was silently thinking that he didn't understand that all of these things have to happen and I need to be in complete control of getting everyone to every activity. Afterall, that's what I do all day-- that's my job-- I'm the one in charge of everything from getting breakfast, transporting kids various places, emailing several people, keeping up with laundry, planning grocery trips, making dinner, oh and not forgetting to raise those kids of mine in a loving and nurturing manner.

No, I don't think I'm super important and the center of the universe-- oh, God no!

But as I'm sure many moms out there can relate (especially moms of many kids), I simply don't want to have to explain everyone's schedule to others I deem responsible enough to handle everything that I would need to do. There's just too many schedules!!

Simply put, I'm lazy, not narcissistic. I do not want to have to put forth the energy to communicate with 10 different people to carry out my responsibilities and then sit there worrying about each of them getting everyone everything they need.

I know, it's still ridiculous. I tell myself to get over it-- really, I do. Don't believe me?

Then why am I sitting here trying to figure out if I can really hand everything over to other people, all the while creating such an awesome post. Ooops, maybe I am narcissistic!

WARNING: Some Whining Ensues

My brain is hurting for something to write about-- mostly because the rest of my body is hurting.

Ladies and Gentlemen:
Due to the ever-increasing pain that has taken over the lower portion of my child-bearing, aching body (everything from my belly-button down to my toenails) the creative-thinking cells of my mind have vanished into thin air.

And what am I left with you ask?

Only the brain cells that allow one to think in the here and now-- you know, the concrete things in life.

Do I really have to wake up now?

Are the tiny people fed?

Is the laundry started?

Did the prenatal vitamin and iron supplement make it to my mouth?

Did I eat my oatmeal and drink enough water?

Have the kids watched too much t.v. today?

What's for dinner? Do I need to start it now?

Do I really have to do the dishes now, or can I sit here for a minute longer?

Oh. My. God. My. Back. Is. Killing. ME!!!!!! Must get off my feet! Must find comfortable position in the sea of pillows on the couch.

Can I just get this kid out now?!!!!
....................................................................................

Please don't misunderstand me. I treasure every minute I am pregnant new life because it really is magical and miraculous- and I can definitely appreciate it on that level. I would not trade one kick, hiccup, back ache, shooting pain, or insomnia-filled night for anything in this world; I have, however, reached that wonderful point in very late pregnancy when the constant pull and twisting of loosened ligaments in the hips sends me yearning for the next four weeks to pass with lightening speed!!!

And this is how it always goes.

I can remember being this far along with Bug and feeling like the laziest, crappiest, most awful mother on this planet because I could hardly take care of my two other children. I moved when I had to-- to get a drink for a baby, to change a diaper, to kiss a boo-boo, or to carry a tiny, sleepy body to bed. In fact, this I-suck-at-being-mommy feeling was one of the leading reasons I asked to be induced a short few days before my actual due date. Well, I have once again reached that point.

That point when Ill under-go all needle-involved procedures and pitocin-induced contractions for 10-24 hours just to get rid of the almost unbearable stabbing, throbbing pain. The guilt of watching my children watch t.v. while I rest my feet is eating at me at it has been about a day. But this stage comes on fast and furious, and I submit kicking and screaming. I don't think I can feel like awful mommy for much longer. That is almost worse than the physical pain.

Needless to say--

I'M DONE!!!!!

Now that the damsel in distress is out of me, I'll try to stop thinking so concretely and get back into my writing groove. I'd at least post pictures, but I don't even have many to show because...
well, frankly it's because we haven't done much fun stuff lately due to the fact that I'm not part of the fun-mama club anymore. But as any mother knows, this too shall pass!

And before I know it, Little Gal will be here in my arms and I will have almost completely forgotten about the pain. Of course she's totally worth it!!!

Spring Fever

I must say that I love spring-- almost as much as I love fall. I appreciate the days when I can leave my windows open, and I love smelling that outside air. But now that I have kids who are preschool-age, I must say that I love spring because we can finally get outside and have fun. Even Bug, as young as she is, can find plenty of things to do with her time in the sun. Just look below for one of her favorite games to play.

So bring on the days where I tuck my girls in bed only to find dirt still residing in their nails--despite my attempts in washing them. Welcome days where I sneeze more times than I breathe. And thank God for those bird sounds, flowery sights, and lightly tanned skin. Welcome SPRING!

How do the Copeland girls spend a sunny afternoon in March?

Wearing some ultra cool shades!

Cheating at ring toss!

Hanging out at the St. Patty's Day parade!

And cleaning dirt off their bodies- but out of respect for the girls, I won't be posting any pictures of that!

If This Clutter Makes My Butt Look Fat...

...does nesting make my butt look any smaller???

Okay, if you don't understand the words above, let me explain.

There's this gentleman by the name of Peter Walsh who is a bit of a design/decluttering expert. So much so, that he's been on numerous television shows and written books about such topics. One of his books is titled, "Does This Clutter Make My Butt Look Fat?"

So on with my question "...does nesting make my butt look any smaller???"

When I saw Mr. Walsh on Oprah earlier this week, my motivation to finally organize some garage sale stuff kicked into full gear. So I headed down to our basement, or as we call it here toyland, to make an earnest effort in organization. I thought I'd put in a few minutes while dinner was in the oven and end up with a great start to my decluttering.

What I didn't count on was my motivation morphing into, yep you guessed it, NESTING!!!!

Nesting is one of those things that I'm glad happens to me in pregnancy-- otherwise I'd never get anything done in preparation for the baby. If you need a better explanation here, let me start by telling you how nesting happens to me.

What: Nesting is an intense case of organizing that happens during late pregnancy. This organizing is so intense that I drop just about everything else to continue my nesting until I am so physically run-down and sore that I crash on the bed.

Why: There is not one thing that sets it off, in fact sometimes it's completely random. I suppose it happens so that I can make my nest as comfortable for the new baby-- not to mention the I've-just-given-birth-so-I'm-too-tired-to-lift-a-finger-for-anything-besides-baby version of myself.

Where: Umm... every room, closet, surface in my house I can get to before D-Day. I have been known to vigorously scrub the entire inside of my washing machine days before my baby was due.

When: Sometime after about 32 weeks of pregnancy-- and whenever the mood strikes me from then on.

Now, back to yesterday and my adventures in toyland...

I came downstairs to an already messy basement-which I'm not sure helped or hindered my process-and completely destroyed it into my version of organized chaos. Instead of spending a few minutes down there, I spent about two hours--only coming up to tuck some snugly girls into bed. I couldn't help it- I really wanted the mess to be organized into the storage unit (my talented husband built) and closet. My motivation got the better of me. Here are some pictures that will certainly help you understand my situation.


Toyland in its full glory


What my talented husband built and where I want a majority of the toys to be kept


The closet where big toys shall be stored


Now, that you have a clearer picture, you see just how in need I am of having a garage sale and making many donations. Toy clutter is the bane of my existence- but now that I've declared National Nesting Day/Week/Month, this will be taken are of. And I bet you can guess how a good portion of my weekend will be spent. Here's how I imagine it:

Me. Three giant trash bags each full with one of the following- 1)donations, 2)trash, or 3)sale items. A super-organized, clean, decluttered, calming home. Oh, and don't forget my waaaaay smaller butt!

Wordless Wednesday

Once Upon a Mema

I had the urge to sit down and enjoy something I haven't in quite a while; something I've been too busy to do for the past four years. I wanted to watch the only soap opera I've ever payed any attention to-- Days of Our Lives.

I haven't had the noon-1pm hour off in quite some time. In high school and college, on a sick day or vacation, I tried to watch my old fav; but, since motherhood hit I have not really followed any of the story line. Despite my long-running relationship with Days, we split ways about 10 years ago, only running into one another on some of my off-days. But before I explain our relationship, let me tell you about the woman who started it all- my Mema.

My maternal grandmother was as stubborn as any old -time German/Irish mix woman is. She had an unbelievable sweet tooth (yes I know where I get mine) and a knack for making noodles. She baked fabulous and unique cookies. She sang old songs I'd never heard while she worked--especially in the kitchen. She was in grade school during WWI. Became a teacher during the Great Depression. Witnessed the dust storms. Wrote her husband love-letters while he was stationed in the Pacific. Gave birth to a son while her husband was at sea. Moved to a small town in Kansas after living in San Diego. Completed her family with a daughter. Taught students in many subjects--even shorthand. And loved her grand kids family dearly.


Now, back to my relationship with this daytime drama. It started when--well, I really can't remember when, but I know that if I was around my Mema this show was on. Seriously, I can remember comparing Days to Sesame Street- back when I watched Sesame Street because I liked it and not because my kids liked it. And Mema was around a lot--probably more than most grandmothers.

She spent many winter months with my mom, sister and me. Since I didn't have a father in my life much, I always think of her as my second parent. She could be stern and mean business, but she was still my grandma; the one who spoiled me and loved me even more when I misbehaved. And I know that she'd often stick up for me to my mom after some of that misbehaving I did. Sorry mom, but I think now you understand that whole "grandma= protector of the grand kids" thing.

I also spent many summer hours with my Mema in her little town-- the kind of town where hot days are spent at the pool, riding a bike, or looking for just about anything to do. So much of my time there was unstructured free-play, but not the lunch hour.

As noon approached, Mema, my sister, and I walked across the street for our date at the Senior Center for lunch. When we walked into the building, the familiar cafeteria-smell greeted us. In all honesty, the food was usually pretty good- mmmmm giant cinnamon rolls. We sat at a long table surrounded by Mema's friends-- and she had many of them. They'd talk to us as if we were also their grandchildren--friendly chat about our activities and the previous school year. And for the next 45 minutes, the three of us enjoyed the good company and good food.

By 1pm, our time at the Center was over with for the day. After saying our goodbyes, we'd join hands with Mema and walk across the street to home. We had to be home by 1-that's when Days came on.

Mema would find her favorite recliner situated directly in front of the television while sis and I found a seat nearby. Soon after the t.v. was on, that same ol' hourglass appeared against the blue background. The same ol' man's voice came on to introduce our show while the same ol' music chimed away. And for the next hour we watched Mema's "program." That's what she called it.

Over the years, Days always found its way onto our t.v. if Mema was around. I can remember asking her, "Are you going to watch your program today," and she'd reply that she didn't really care to watch "that silly show." Yes folks, "her program" had suddenly turned into "that silly show." She claimed to not care about it because it was so ridiculous (for any fans out there this was during the time when Marlena was possessed), but somehow she always managed to make sure she was watching despite its flaws.

She continued her fascination with this show until her mind didn't work the way it used to. By the time I was in college, she started having mini-strokes which could affect her personality at times. She was still our Mema, even when she wasn't being her silly show- watching self. It was hard to watch the many moods of my grandma, some which I didn't recognize and some which I greeted with open arms. Though it was hard at times, I visited her in the nursing home where we'd talk about many things.

One of my favorite conversations with her at this time was about Shakespeare. I was in a Shakespeare class at KU and Mema loved her some Shakespeare. She read it in her youth. She taught it to her literature students. She memorized it for herself, or for the love it-- I'm not sure. She repeated it out loud to no one in particular. I think she may have even eaten it for desert a time or two. Just listening to her talk about one of her passions was a thrill to that 19-year old girl-- especially in hindsight.

Unfortunately, not long after that conversation, Mema passed away-- seven years ago today. I always like to remember my Mema on this day. I know I could go read Macbeth, make some noodles, or even sing an old song as I worked in the kitchen; but for some reason, all I want to do is watch our show. As silly as it may sound, I feel close to her when I do this-- I suppose it's because it became such a ritual for us.

A grandma is a very special gift that God gave us. I knew it then, but I hate that I didn't cherish it then. I was just living life and I didn't understand what taking someone or something for granted meant. Now, as an adult, I look back on our time together and understand just how fortunate I was to have her with me for 19 years. Even better, I get to watch my own children love and cherish their grandmas-- and vice versa, of course!

On Being a Mama

It's definitely days like today-days I'm singing "reunited and it feels soooo goooood," to the couch as I finally plop down- when I ponder this motherhood thing. It's only halfway through the day, or nap time as I like to say, and all I can focus on is the pain shooting down my legs, across my back and through my heels. These days, I wonder if I'm doing enough to show my girls just how much I love them. I wonder if I'm being selfish to ask for a few minutes before I stand up to get them a drink. It's days like today when I wonder if I have what it takes to be a mom--at least the kind of mom I want to be.

Raise your virtual hand if you have ever wondered if you are filling the big shoes of mom. Do you remember as a child, or even now, thinking that mama can fix it-- whatever it is, mom could definitely fix it.

You've got a fever-- mom makes it go away.

You just need a hug-- mom's got one.

You have a question that only mom can answer--well, let's hope mama's there.

And then there's the even bigger situations in life where mom steps up and eases your mind, soul, and spirit.

I don't think there is any one thing that a mom does to convince her child she is in deed super woman; rather, it's a compilation of acts over time that build and build into a child's idea of mom.

We may not remember the first time we laid eyes on each other, the first time she cleaned up our puke, changed our diaper, or gave us a hug; but all of those acts are written on our slate. Each and every kind and loving motherly act teaches a child about life and helps to create our own definition of mom.

So, if you're like me, you grow up thinking that there is no one who loves you quite like mom. Your definition of mom, though indescribable as it may be, is set in stone. Even in the teen years, when you are convinced she's wrong about everything and has no clue what it's like to be 16, somewhere in the back of your hard head you know she loves you. Then suddenly, you're an adult, you become mom, and you're left wondering if these HUGE shoes can possibly be filled by your own two feet!

All through the nine months of that first pregnancy, soon-to-be mom is somewhat blissfully ignorant. She knows she is going to love this little life more than she loves her own; yet, there is still that very unknown territory of being mom. Then, that first baby is born, mom emerges as she reaches for her baby, and she starts creating her own legacy for her children.

Even now, as I sit here watching my belly dance with baby number four behind the choreography, I am still wondering if I have what it takes to help my children define mom as that indescribable woman who loves them so much it hurts! I realize that my daughters will be normal--never realizing just how much mom loves them until they become a mom, but I pray that with each day that passes I am creating a legacy that makes my girls proud to call me mom.

It's days like today when I have to look at the big picture. After all, if I follow my own idea, it's not just one thing that sticks out in my child's mind when she thinks about mom-- it's a compilation of loving acts which help her understand just how much she is loved. It is my wish to leave my daughters with the knowledge and skills they need to become the mom they thought I was and that I hope I am. And I pray, despite my many mistakes, my children will realize one day what this all-encompassing mother's love is really all about.

Thank you, mom. And to all of you mom's giving your all everyday so that your child has the best love you can offer, thank you. It's people like you who make this world a better place by doing it all out of love.

NOT ME MONDAY #8

Yep, it's Monday, folks-- it's time for Not Me Monday. As I get further along in this pregnancy, there are so many more ridiculous things that I certainly don't do. Patients are running low. Energy starts running awfully low at about mid-day. Cravings for chocolate soar to new heights. And aches and pains linger longer everyday. Needless to say, you better bet there's a whole list of stupid things I never did this week.

NOT EVEN one night last week did I declare, "I refuse to cook dinner because I cannot be on my feet any longer without collapsing," to my husband as he walked in the door from work. Since I didn't even do that one day last week, you better believe I didn't do it a few more than that!

I'm NOT one of those people who gets grumpy when she doesn't feel well. I'm no wuss-- I can handle back/hip/leg/heel-breaking pain without it getting to my head. There's no way my fuse has been WAAAAAYYY shorter this past week. *There are some stories being withheld here.

When we woke up to an inch or so of snow on the ground Saturday morning, I DID NOT jump up and down (okay it was only in my head)and get excited for the girls to play in it. You see, we have had little to no snow this winter, and I'm really missing it. The girls got snow bibs and sleds for Christmas and we have not been able to use them--- until a brief encounter two days ago. There's NO WAY I got the girls all bundled up (taking about 20 mins), grabbed the camera and video camera, and walked outside just to spend 5 mins snapping photos in the very cold wind. My kids are troopers, though. They played in looked at the snow and posed for photos just so I could get a couple of my fav kind of pictures. But, you know, I COULD NEVER make my kids "suffer" for five minutes just so I can attempt to capture that Kodak moment.

And I'M NOT sad that this last picture is of three empty sleds. The best picture I had planned WAS NOT all three of them posing nicely while I took a few pictures of them on their sleds. Oh well, there's still hope for more snow-- sometime in the next 10 months!

Wordless Wednesday