No Man's Land {Goodbye, 2012}.

First of all, let me start off by saying, "Thank you!" to each and every one of you who sent well wishes and congratulations our way after reading our big announcement post on Monday! B and I are feeling so blessed, and can't wait to see what the next few months hold for us and baby boy. I plan on posting some bump pics very soon (maybe even tomorrow, if I can get my act together), so stay tuned for those. And let me tell you: there's a definite bump formation going on in my midsection. 

Here's a little sneak peek of my current view. Don't mind the scarf that kept getting in the way.
Notice the roundness of the tummy? Wonder how long I'll be able to see my shoes?

Yesterday, the husband and I tackled the task that I dread each and every year: the taking down of Christmas. Hate, hate, hate it. We leave it up as long as we dare, but on New Years Day, we both know that the end has arrived for another year. So, we sigh. Trudge up to the attic. Retrieve all the boxes and bags. And make our way mournfully back downstairs to begin the sad, lengthy task. 

Every ornament has now been re-boxed or carefully packaged. Every bit of tinsel has been tucked away. The wreaths are hanging under plastic wrap in the attic eaves. The Christmas tins, aside from the ones in the freezer still holding the precious last few treats and remnants of holiday snacks, have been stacked up and stored. The garland has been unraveled. The lights have been wound up into neat piles. And every holiday candle and bit of sparkle has vanished, as seemingly quickly as it appeared.

My house now feels cold, lifeless and empty. And I hate it. The rooms appear too big without the Christmas trees. It's too dark without the sparkle of the white twinkle lights. The mantels look bereft without their cozy Christmas stockings. Everything is grey and blah.

Today, I am back at work. And I feel a little bereft myself. Happens every year around this time.

We are now entering my least favorite season of the year. The period between Christmas and Valentine's Day - what I refer to as the 'no man's land' of the year. The icy desert of blank months offering nothing but regular ol' days. No holidays. No warm weather. Nothing to look forward to (save maybe my hubby's birthday in early February). The other day, as B and I were walking Ellie in the frigid early morning temps, I thought to myself that the year would truly be perfect if the seasons would align with our calendars so that spring would arrive right after Christmas. How great would that be? We could take down our Christmas decor and place flowers and brightly colored knick-knacks around the house in place of all of the holiday sparkle. We could swap out the heavy sweaters for light, flowy dresses and hot pink toenails. I always wish that August, September and October would be the cold months of the year. Because that's when I feel like wearing tweeds and wools. Once Christmas is over, I feel like the velvets and corduroys should be retired for the season. But alas, it isn't so. No. Instead, we will now how several months of cold, grey temperatures. Sigh. If only I could have a little word with Mother Nature.

Since the calendars and seasons aren't going to be changing anytime soon, I realized that it is I that need the attitude adjustment. Not Mother Nature. Instead of looking at the next few months as desolate days, I should be thankful just to be afforded the luxury of waking up to another day. I should make what I can of each day, choosing happiness and joy. Because I can. Because I should. Because I am responsible for creating these things in my life. After all, our lives are what we make them, right?

So, instead of making any formal New Year's resolutions, today, I am going to make a promise to myself to simply try in this new year. To try to make each day a little better than the day before. To try to be a better person (both for myself and for my soon-to-be son). To try to enjoy the little things. To not allow the days to go by without being thankful. 

Happy New Year!