January’s a good month to have an excuse to stay inside with a baby.
All the snuggling, singing and miles put on pacing and bouncing the burps out in front of the fireplace is as good of an activity as any when the thermometer registers well below zero.
And while I love it, I am also restless. Having spent every other winter of my life able to bundle up and hit the trail or the road on a whim sometimes sends me pressing my nose up against the window.
The light is already starting to linger longer, and this baby is already starting to hold her head up and make little noises, but I find myself daydreaming about smushing her leg rolls into a little swimming suit and hitting the beaches of the big lake this summer.
And that’s a rough daydream, because I already think she’s growing up too fast.
So in an attempt to beat cabin fever and to force myself to stay in the moment, last weekend Husband held down the fort and the pacifier and I made a plan to trek out and about around the barnyard, ignoring the fact that it was literally -20 with the windchill or something like that.
I would just stay in the low parts of the place, avoid the wind and try to squeeze my fat ass into my long underwear, under sweat pants, under snow pants I could barely button up.
I just needed to take a tally of all of the frost, put a flush in my cheeks and sweat a bit.
Because while I have a new role now as a mom, there are things I know about myself that help keep me balanced.
I need to go outside. It’s imperative for me to remain the best version of myself.
So I did.
And I froze my face off.
And came in after only about fifteen minutes.
Happy to know that all was as it should be in January.
Frosty and freezing…
Windy and white…
And pretty in a middle-of-winter sort of way.
And it felt good to be frozen, only to warm up…
with a warm fire and the best stuff waiting for me inside.