Spring already??

The cherry blossoms are blooming, and March is almost over.  And it's freaking me out ever so slightly.  Because I'm not quite done with Christmas.  I realized this when, during our annual Easter Egg Hunt and Chocolate Gorge, that my son had found an egg next to the Jingle Bell tree that was still stuck in the ground in the front yard.  I would have been embarrassed except that nobody else seemed even remotely surprised.  (I know, that should have made it worse, and yet, it didn't!)  I'm always the last house to take down the decorations.  I once left my tree up until February.  And it was alive at one point, so by the time we took it down, it only had about half its needles left.  I have this great Halloween door sign that says, "Keep Out".  It's on the outside of the front door.  I never go in the front door.   I use the back door.  So I didn't remember it was even there until I went to hang my jingle bell wreath for Christmas.  I can only assume that everyone thought I was just a very bad hostess.  (And I kind of am, but mostly out of sheer laziness, and not any desire to chase people away.)  But the holiday thing - there really are two types of people in the world - the ones who take their tree down on Christmas day (or if they're feeling festive, Dec 26th), and those who take it down under protest, and usually weeks later.  I'm the second kind.  I want the good stuff to last.  I want to have that fuzzy holiday feeling.  I want to get the belated birthday card a week after my birthday, because it makes me feel like it's still my birthday, if only for a few more minutes.  And I want babyhood to last. (and last and last.)  And my baby, my newborn, my tiniest wee beasty, is turning 2 on Thursday.  How the heck did that happen?   I don't want her to be a kid yet.  I'm okay with the toddler stage, because she's just barely not a baby anymore.  And I love that her words only sometimes sound vaguely like what they are supposed to.  I love that she says, "peash" instead of "please", and "Dat Too" is her name for her pacifier (day 3 of it being for bedtime only!).  And my son, my little boy who is only 6 1/2, said his first swear word this week (in his defense, he had no idea it was on the banned list).  We went from peash to that, practically overnight.   And I'm not ready for it.  I'm not done with him being my little guy.  I'm not done with  her being my baby.   I know there are so many more wonderful things to come with both of them, but I'm not done with this part yet.  I need it to slow down, just for a little while.