As endearing as a national tradition surrounding a big cuddly-looking groundhog may be, that little rat correctly predicts more crappy winter to come every single year, and it kind of annoys me a little. I am 38 years old (for another month, anyway), and I think we’ve only had an unusually milder winter resulting in his prediction of an early spring once in my lifetime. I hate winter. I hate dark, I hate cold, and although in theory snow is pretty and fun, in reality it upsets the fragile balance of my work/daycare schedule and makes the roads dangerous if you’re forced to be out on them. Since I don’t get the time and freedom to go sledding anymore, no thanks, I’d rather be without it. Of course, I do love a few moments of wonder outside in it with my sweet boy, but he’s pretty quick to enjoy it, get too cold, and want to go right back inside.
Bill Murray’s rendition of Groundhog Day made me a laugh a lot in college, but sadly is indicative of how I’ve been feeling about myself and my life lately. It’s kind of a circular treadmill. If I could just get my sh*t together, I could accomplish so much more. Take better care of myself and my health, lose the weight, be a better parent and wife, etc. But instead every day I wake up much like Bill Murray did, stuck in the same day, irrespective of what improvements I had planned on the previous day. Tired, unprepared, flustered, late. Leading me to eat poorly, feel tired, struggle with patience at home and work, not feel like exercising, etc. Oh, and did I mention I’m sick? On my 9th day of a miserable cold, and I have a sick kid and husband too. Wheeeeeee!