Janu-weary

January. Oh, January. It's a new beginning, but this time of year makes me think of when I ran the half marathon. I got off to a fantastic start. I was cruising, feeling pretty good. Then I reached mile 10 and hit a wall. The last 3.1 miles were pure pain and suffering. January is like the last mile. At the race, I was practically in tears by this point. January is the time when things get really hard.

The festive season bids adieu for another year. I was so sad to take down our Christmas tree earlier this week (yes, we left it up longer than usual). When we worked with interior designers last summer to redo our living room, they gently teased us for having a string of white Christmas lights strung around our curtain rod. I got what they were saying, yet I find those little white lights so comforting. I guess I have to sacrifice in the name of good design sense.

See, sometimes I suck it up and just get out there.

There is little redemption in this most-despised month. At the end of each December, I try to be optimistic, set goals for myself. For 2014, as in years past, I resolved to focus more on contentment and finding joy in my life. I wanted to let the small stuff go, stop snapping at my kids and husband.

The morning of Jan. 1, I awoke. As Mark and I were preparing the kids' breakfast, I sniped at him about giving Paul too much sweet cereal. Then I threw a mini fit about our new microwave. It cooks hotter than the old one: the day before I'd burned a whole batch of caramel corn I had planned to bring to a New Year's Eve party. This day, my oatmeal boiled over, creating a big mess.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. I had such good intentions, and less than an hour into starting anew, I had strayed from my resolutions.

I was telling our visiting friend from Spain (in his city, it doesn't get much colder than 40 degrees) that here, we just kind of survive winter. My sister-in-law interjected that she loves winter for its beauty and opportunities to partake in favorite activities like cross-country skiing. I wish I could adopt a more embracing attitude like that one.

When it's not winter, I'm able to take on a more romanticized view of the season. I picture sitting in my warm, cozy home watching the snow fall gently outside my window, reading a book by the fire with a mug of steaming tea, taking the boys sledding or building a snow man with them. Yet when winter actually arrives, I feel disheartened by its darkness and length. Naturally, the most difficult time of the year also feels the longest.

Of course, this January, too, shall pass. Soon it will be February, and the months will keep rolling by as they always do. In the meantime, I'll try to remember and enjoy the small pleasures this season has to offer.

As for those resolutions, I hereby resolve to go a little easier on myself when I screw up. At the same time, rather than make sweeping statements about things I want to change, I'll look for small, concrete ways to get closer to my goals.

All the while, I'll long just a little bit for that beginning-of-the-race feeling of ease and happiness. I know it's waiting for me just out a little ways.