Life

12 Thoughts Parents Have When It's Finally Warm Enough To Take Your Kids Outside Again

I’m so sorry, did you say something? I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s hard to hear over the sound of these birds chirping. Now that signs of spring have arrived, I’m skipping around my house, opening windows and twirling around like some kind of Disney princess (minus the brood of helpful animal butlers), and making lists of all the spring activities for kids that my family will be enthusiastically partaking in. Seriously, I’m not sure what’s better, the arrival of spring after long winter months, or the arrival of my first baby after long pregnant months. OK, perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but the arrival of spring is right up there with a new Beyoncé video, or a new Starbucks drink, or Hemsworth brother movie — it means so much to my life, guys.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of sweatpants too, so I’m down to cozy up during the winter, but I totally get how the clouds and cold weather can take their toll after long enough. There’s a reason why my partner and I have opted to live somewhere with four distinct seasons. Spring isn’t even my favorite one (for the record, that would be fall) but still, its arrival is still very much worth celebrating. Gone (for now) are the days of sloshy sidewalks and frigid wind chills; We’re now starting to see flower buds and the occasional sun break. And if you're anything like me, here's what your inner monologue is like on this glorious days:

"The Playground Is Going To Be A Sh*tshow."

I don’t even remember how this works. Do we wait in line for the slide on the big toy or on the ground next to it? How many times should my kid go up to someone else’s kid before I introduce myself? How long is too long on the swings? I need to write all this stuff down.

"Um, Where Even Are My Warm-Weather Clothes?"

I swear we have a light jacket somewhere under all these giant puffy marshmallows with zippers.

"Oh, So THAT'S What My Kid Looks Like Underneath All The Down Feathers."

Wait, did my child shrink? Oh, that’s right, his clothes just don’t add 10 inches to his tummy.

"I Love How Easy It Is To Not Be In Boots."

There's nothing like the fresh breeze of cold morning air blowing through the bottom of your pant legs. My ankles feel so carefree and alive.

"I Love How Easy It Is To Dress A Child In A Regular Amount Of Clothes."

That said, he does seem to be a little confused when we stop at just one sweatshirt. Don't worry, little man. You'll get used to it eventually.

"Do We Need Sunscreen? I Forget How This Part Works."

I mean, I can’t actually see the sun because it’s behind a cloud right now, but it was out a minute ago, so maybe I should find something with some SPF in it?

"Life Is Glorious And Everything Is Wonderful."

This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. What a time to be alive!

"Here's A Poignant Statement About The Passage Of Time And The Change Of Seasons And The Growth Of My Beautiful Child."

I’m sure there’s an hourglass or moon phases or ocean tides metaphor to be made, but I’m going to try not to think about it and just enjoy the fact that my child is still small, for now.

"Maybe I Should Get My Coffee Iced Today."

Alright, I might be getting a bit ahead of myself. It's like 55 degrees outside. Let's not fly too close to the sun here.

"The Sun IS OUT DO WE EVEN NEED CLOTHES LET'S PUT ON OUR BATHING SUITS."

I don’t even remember what proper swimming weather is. 55? 60 degrees? Who cares, the snow has all melted. Everything is perfect. Clothes are coming off.

"Roll The Windows Down, I’m Going To Play My Music Obnoxiously Loud."

My entire neighborhood should know how excited I am that spring is here, and they need to know in the form of '90s pop music blasting from my vehicle.

"Where's The Camera? Time To Take Artsy Photography Of My Child In The Sunlight Looking At Flower Buds."

Blurry shadows give it artistic flair, right? Let's pretend like that's true, and like I have any idea what I'm doing. I mean, I'm not a fully frozen, icicle person right now, so who cares?