"To wear the coat, or not to wear the coat? That is the question." Personal tropical vacation vs. sub-zero temperatures outside. We're all hot-blooded here, except Hubby. Neighbors used to laugh when they told me they could never tell what the temperature was outside by looking at how the children were dressed. I've always been the conscientious mom - coats, hats, scarves, mittens and gloves- were always bought or made every winter. We have a laundry basket at the bottom of the coat closet filled with personalized scarves and what-not. Hangers are filled with winter coats and snow pants.
The preferred garb is a hoodie. Sometimes a hat. Never gloves, unless you're going skiing, sledding, or ice-skating. I used to chase them to the door, calling out that jeans are a better choice over gym shorts because there is a wind chill of -12, all to no avail.
Now, it's my turn. My skin is often ready to spontaneously combust, 24/7. I longingly glance at turtlenecks and heavy sweaters, knowing if I put one on I will be miserable all day long. Besides, I'm just running from the car to the building - and in the morning, that's fine. In the afternoon, however, the car hasn't been in the nice, warm garage, but in the freezing cold, and it takes awhile before it's sufficiently heated and my hands aren't frozen to the steering wheel. And, while I've been wearing the coat this week (we had two hour delays two mornings this week because of the cold), I'm ready for the long sweater. Hubby, on the other hand, has been zipping up the jacket, wrapping the scarf around his neck, burrowing his hands in his big, warm gloves. At night, he puts on fluffy wool socks and climbs underneath three blankets. He insisted we put flannel sheets on the bed. He's happy and comfy all night long. I'm not. I often wake up feeling as if I've been to the gym! Ah, well, this too shall pass.
And, I guess I'll wear the coat. Better to be safe than sorry.
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