Alright Wisconsin — You Win. We Need a Snow Blower.

We tried. For four years we tried.
Every winter we rolled the dice and told ourselves we don’t need a snow blower, because really… there was only ONE storm that ever made us wish we had one.

Well.
Wisconsin finally said bet.

This weekend dumped a little over 10 inches of snow straight onto our very large, very unforgiving driveway. And of course—because the universe loves good timing—Shon’s been dealing with back issues. So I, in all my overconfidence, announced:

“You stay with Phoebe. I’ll take care of the driveway.”
I’m a strong independent woman. I can handle it….

Then Jazmyn and Thaddeus bundled up and came outside to “help” — which mostly meant making snowballs, stomping down the piles I already shoveled, and tattling on each other for breathing wrong. Still, the laughter and rosy cheeks were hard to be mad at. They were having a full winter wonderland moment while I was having a lower-back crisis.

We spent almost five hours outside and got through half the driveway. My patience melted long before the snow did, but the kids had fun — like really fun. Snow angels, mini snow forts, the kind of memories that make the frozen toes and sore shoulders feel a little more worth it.

At one point, I handed over my phone for pictures of the kids playing, then told little man to put it inside when they were done. I asked if he did, and he told me yes. I should’ve asked for clarification… because four hours later, when I went looking for it, he informed me:

“I put it under your car.”

Not inside.
Not on the porch.
Under. The. Car.

Which would’ve been less of a crisis if Shon hadn’t brushed snow off the cars later and unknowingly buried it. After ten minutes of digging like archaeologists uncovering lost tech (and a lot of silent internal screaming), we found it — frozen, but alive. And thankfully, not tire-marked.

So, Wisconsin, message received. Loud, snowy, undeniable.

We’re getting a snow blower.

Confidently winging it—powered by chaos and caffeine.