February is not my friend

For MANY years, I have had a deep dislike of February. It is the longest shortest month of the year. When I was a kid, it seemed to last forever, and I would find myself living for March. The only exceptions I can remember is college, when classes didn't start back til February so the newness of the semester made it fly by and the year Hannah was born because that's when time started FLYING. As a teacher, it was the month when all my sweetest kids turned sour and my brightest students existed in a fog. It is also usually the month when the New Year's Resolution wears off and I realize, once again, that I'm a diet flunkie. OK, I lied. That happens the second week of January, but I am usually able to keep my house clean and my life organized until February. I have tried not to carry this dislike over into my family and now my children, but it doesn't seem to be working. February is that month when the cold overwhelms me, because I am tired of not being able to get out and tired of not being able to send my kids out. It is the month of the drama in the morning, of prying my children out of bed and the "I-don't-want-to-go-to-school" begging starts. This even happens with my oldest, who loves school. The next part I have really debated on putting in here and I type with trembling fingers. It is the anniversary of the stomach virus that I will likely never forget, so I always get a little freaked out that it may come again, just to add to the joys of February. So I am a February hater. I wonder if they have a support group for those of us who cannot take another minute of the weather and are living for Spring.