the winter blues

So I customarily love winter. I could roll around in the snow and then have an ice cold soda. No, really. Summer is a long, drawn out period of sweating, endured only because I know fall will eventually come. But when I'm pregnant - and this happened the first time around too, although not as violently as this time - I seriously want to kill winter. Death to winter. Death to cold, frigid, icy, tundra gross blah. I get pretty irrational about it really. When it starts snowing outside, I throw mini tantrums. Annabelle, who actually loves the snow, starts yelling, "Kuh kuh! Zno! Kuh kuh zno!" whenever she sees it because, well, that's what I scream while I roll around kicking on the floor. 

I want to bake. I want to literally consume sunshine. I've described it this way: In my mind I can take the sunshine, make a cheesecake, then sit and eat it - rich, delicious sunshine, bite by bite. It seriously "sounds good," and I'm just counting the days until I can sweat. Yeah, I have issues.

Anyway, these are some of the incredibly beautiful photos that Jess snapped in Yellowstone (before he took a nose dive and crushed his sternum). I seriously love them. And aside from the fact that I missed the family fun, I love even more that I'm not in them. Holy frozen.

And a few pictures for Grandma. Hands on her hips. Yep, she's that big.

Also, she totally chose that outfit, including the sweet too small, backwards pants. And yes, that disaster behind her? That's what my whole apartment looks like when I'm pregnant. I'm over it.