I'm so butch

With Husband gone, I've had to do more 'heavy lifting' - as if lifting 30 pound Baby isn't enough.

In the last couple of weeks, we've had a little snow - couple inches here, couple inches there. This morning though, I woke up to more than three inches. I think it was closer to five. I had just been shoveling. Meaning I got the girl off to school, then bundled up the other two and let them play in the snow while I scooped. And scooped. And scooped. I've been a little intimidated by the snowthrower. It usually causes Husband to curse, as it works better in 'warmer' temperatures.

Today. I wasn't going to scoop. It would have taken way, way too long. Instead, I called Husband.

Me: How hard is it to start the snowblower?
Him: Not very. Why?
Me: We've had quite a bit of snow.
Him: Oh. Well, you just turn on the gas, pull the choke, turn the engine to on, and pull the cord.
Me (writing furiously): gas on, choke on, engine on, pull cord...
Him: Last time I used it, I only had to pull the cord twice. Now, once it warms up, push the choke back in.
Me: Good. It's not too cold, so that should be ok. It's warmed up to about 10.
Him: If you can't get it, we can call and have someone do it.
Me: Well let me try it first.

Well... I did it. Twice. I did it 'first thing' this morning, as I thought the snow was letting up. I had to do it again after picking up the Boy from preschool, as it had snowed more and finally stopped.

I was wrong. I just sat at the computer and more big fat flakes are coming down.

Crap.

And the freaking plow just went by, leaving a drift at the end of the driveway.

Crap.

I do want to know, though... How many dads have to finish snowthrowing with a baby on their hip?