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Remembering This January

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I will remember this January as the one with all the snowstorms that didn’t really affect me much. (I had to drive in it once—but somehow didn’t mind; I grabbed my camera and got some good photos on the way.) I felt terrible for the rest of the country, but got annoyed at all the Facebook weather updates and the photos of the snow (although some were quite amazing). I felt terrible for both my parents who had to keep digging themselves out. My mother with her damaged knee and wrist, and my father with his gout-ridden foot.


Jake had four snow days (fifth snow day on February 2), but we probably treated at least twenty-four days the same way. On a Thursday afternoon in the last week of January, I set out to make the best blueberry muffins of my life—and I did.


It was the January where the genius of Fresh Direct and Diapers.com brought all my groceries and diapers to my door.


I will remember this January as one we hibernated a lot and worked on our “project” (read: baby). We had an impromptu eight-person dinner party where Bryan drank too much cheap Tequila and broke my stainless-steel garbage can. This was also the party where we talked about hippies a lot—Mexican and other kinds.


This was the January where we threw a very successful surprise party for my sister, who turned thirty on 1/11/11. The party brought both sides of my divorced family together for the first time in a decade.


Love was in the air this January—and not just for me. Wink, wink—you know who you are, both of you.


I will remember this January as the one where we had the six-hour date night, celebrating three men’s birthdays at three separate Manhattan locations. I made careful psychological observations and conclusions about all three men, but wrote down none of them.


I will remember this January as the one where we at a lot of bagels and eggs with tofu bacon for breakfast. Where I broke my tooth on a tortilla chip and then waited almost a month to get it fixed. During this broken tooth phase, I learned to be less vain (it’s about time). A new sheet of confidence draped over my shoulders and I was able to stand up taller, somehow more comfortable in my skin.


I will remember this January as the month where I learned to look at photos of myself differently because of the way I look at pictures of my daughter.


Mostly, I will remember this January as being one those cold months when Kenzie was a baby, Jake was a big boy, we were young and in love—and enjoying every ounce of watching life unfold.

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