Something's missing, and so I vent

This year, as always, the day after Christmas I was ready for the decorations to come down, and have the house back to normal. It never fails...I want them up the day after Thanksgiving, and I can't wait to see all the lights twinkle. To make Christmas cookies. To smell the yule tide. But then it starts to close in. It becomes too much, and by the time you add Santa's bounty, the house is ready for a major simplistic make-over as of December 26th.

We left everything up until yesterday, because despite my itchin' to get it cleaned up, taking things down before the first just doesn't settle well with any of us. Hailey HAD to have the tree up so that she could look at it while she enjoyed her fondue on New Year's Eve. No clue why, but that was a must. I'm assuming way down deep there's a memory from last year, and so it is tradition.
We spent the whole morning boxing up ornaments and vacuuming needles. Hailey helped, as if she'd had enough of it all too for now. Keelyn cried a bit with the confusion, and insisted on kissing every Jesus, Joseph and Mary before putting them away in their neat little cases. And I know that sounds like a distasteful phrase, but I mean it literally...no baby Jesus went unkissed. This was crucial to maintaining her sanity through the process.

My sanity, on the other hand, is questionable. This year, for the first year, it didn't bring relief. Our house still feels full. You still can't open the coat closet or a kitchen cupboard without something jumping out and attacking you. There are still toys to step on everywhere we turn. But there are no lights. No "Ooohhh!!!" from Keelyn as we walk down the steps each morning, and she appreciates it all over again. No incessant requests from Hailey to wind up every snowglobe and allow them all to play music at the same time so that you can't actually hear a single one.

We drove past a house that still had decorations out this morning. The kids hearts jumped out of their chests as Keelyn yelled, "Santa Caus! 'Notha one! Found it!," and Hailey said "Frosty, Mommy, they still have their Frosty out!" Next year it will all be exciting again, and it's not lost on me that the reason it's all so exciting is because Frosty and Santa take a 10 month break each year before reemerging. But still. I'll miss hearing their delight. I'll miss that certain inflection in each of their voices that will have changed by the time next Christmas roles around.

In light of still having absolutely no space at all, as in you could not even fit an extra fruit fly in our house if you needed a place to let yours sleep for the night, I am finally forcing myself to slowly rid of the baby stuff. I just posted our double stroller (which has been sitting unused in our dining room for about 5 months now), and our exersaucer and high chair (which make it difficult to shove the attic door closed as we put our Christmas decorations away) on Craig's List. And I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know we are lucky to have an attic to shove things in, in the first place. I'm just sharing my thoughts. Honestly, if we had a bigger attic, I'd never consider getting rid of this stuff right now. Though they are just things, they are tangible pieces of a life that is slipping away from our reality. Hailey and Keelyn aren't those people any more, and next year, they won't be these people, you know? But in my heart, I know that I need to be present and appreciate the people they are right now. To be here for them the way they need me right now.

And I am, but getting rid of these things makes my heart ache a bit. It's just not in my genes to be good at this. And those are just baby steps. I also have a swing, a bumbo seat, a carseat, a bath tub, a bassinet, and bouncy seat, a single stroller, and a whole, whole, whole freakin' lot of adorable, cute, memory making little girl clothes that I don't know how to part with.

I guess I don't know why I'm saving all this stuff. We haven't got the space or the use for it. If another baby joins our family at some point, there will be new stuff to buy. But it won't play the same silly little songs that soothed our kids, and it won't slide up next to my bed just so like the bassinet did, and it won't bring back familiar memories I so loved about reusing things the second time around. But then, we're very happy just the four of us. And so maybe that's okay.

And if I keep saying so, and watching myself type it on the keyboard, maybe it really will be.

I mean, just look at these lovely people I rang in the new year with... 2010 could really be nothing but fabulous.