Generally, I hate January. It is, as they say, the armpit of the year. It's cold. It's dark. We're always broke. We're tired from Christmas. This year, though, I am loving it. I really am. January is a-okay this year. It's fun! There's snow! The Rideau Canal has opened! And you know why? Because I. am. not. pregnant. January is an amazing month when you're not lugging a toddler and a gigantic baby-filled belly around. It really is.
Yesterday, I was pulling Finn and Rosemary in their wagon through the snow, and although it was a little tough going -- the snow is so sticky and soft -- and it involved quite a bit of effort to get them both in their snowsuits and their boots and their mitts -- what's with kids and pulling off their freaking mitts -- I was thinking, "This is great. I love this." I haven't lost my mind. I don't think so anyway. My new-found optimism is because last January, I was doing much the same thing: stuffing Finn in a snowsuit, trying to play outside in the snow, doing ANYTHING to burn some energy. I only had one kid then, but it was miserable. It was hard and incredibly
tiring, and I really honestly could not believe the things I was doing with my body at that point.
When you're six-months pregnant during in the armpit of the year, all you want to do is curl up in bed with chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. A toddler really doesn't allow for that kind of lifestyle choice.
Anyway, this year, I want to skate and run in the snow and go tobogganing and drag my kids all over this great city because I CAN!!!! This year, we are skating every weekend. We're going to Winterlude, which unbelievably, last year, we didn't attend any events. I think, "Why on earth didn't we go to Winterlude, one of the best winter festivals in the country? Downtown is just a 10-minute drive from our house." Then I remember, "Oh yeah, I was PREGNANT."
I love not being pregnant.