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I’m finding it hard to believe that the last days of 2011 are already upon us. The years certainly tend to go by faster as I get older, but this one flew by at lightening speed. It was a good one, this year. And looking back I feel fortunate to find so little negative, so little sadness. This year was actually totally defined by joy.
Owen grew day-by-day and before our eyes went from a squawking newborn to a beautiful, intelligent, funny boy. We celebrated his first birthday in the backyard of the house we brought him home to, surrounded by family and friends and so much love. He took his first steps, spoke his first sentence (“oh, my Dada!”) and started to (sort of) count to ten. He is our everything, this kid.
The most stressful part of the year was selling our old house and buying another. There was a period of time where it was looking pretty likely that we would have no official place to live and would possibly end up in my mother-in-law’s basement until the housing issue was resolved. Luckily for all of us, that didn’t happen, and in a span of 24 hours we moved out of one house, closed on two, and moved into our new house. It was a whirlwind of emotions and boxes, but in the end, we found ourselves on the end of quiet cul-de-sac in what could very well be our Forever House. We’ve spent far too much money at Lowe’s, and even more hours dreaming about our future here. From the first night it felt like home, and I think that makes it just perfect.
We spent the summer taking Owen out on the boat, celebrating the weddings of people we love and digging our toes in the sand. Autumn included our first night away from him, where we went to New Hampshire to celebrate our third wedding anniversary, his first Halloween where he was the MOST adorable lion I have ever seen, and trips to pick out pumpkins.
Autumn also brought the news that another baby is coming into our lives, and if that isn’t the icing on the 2011 cake, I don’t know what is.
We ended the year with a cozy Christmas with family in our new home, stockings crowding the mantel I always dreamed about and more presents than we deserved.
Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday and the last day of the year. I really can’t say anything bad about 28 (other than the fact that it’s inching me that much closer to 30), and can only hope that 29 can hold a candle to how great this year was. I plan on stuffing my face with cupcakes and trying my very best to stay up till midnight. But no promises.
Happy New Year, everyone. See you in 2012!
Tomorrow is my 28th birthday. It’s not such a landmark number. It’s not 10 (Double digits!), 16 (Drivers license!), 18 (Vote! Buy cigarettes! [Not that I did, but I could have]), 21 (Can legally drink!), or the “dreaded” Big 3-0. No, it’s just 28.
My 28th birthday is just going to be the cherry on top of what was a pretty awesome year.
I spent half 0f 2010 pregnant, preparing for parenthood and for the little life we were going to bring into the world. I was thrown beautiful showers by people I love. I celebrated my husband’s 30th birthday and two years of marriage with my best friend.
Owen’s birth in June topped anything I could have ever imagined. At 1:05 p.m. on June 26th I became a mother. A mommy. Owen’s mama. That moment redefined my entire life because suddenly, someone’s life depended on me. It gave me purpose like I had never felt before.
June through December has brought joy, tears, frustration, laughter, wonderment, exhaustion, fun and happiness. I have learned patience, acceptance, hell, I learned to feed someone from my boobs. That’s a pretty big deal. I watched fireworks in the car with my husband while my 8-day old son slept in the backseat. I changed a lot of poopy diapers. I got peed on a few times. More than a few times.
I had my first cocktail in over a year.
I was a bridesmaid in one of my best friend’s weddings. I lost 40 pounds of pregnancy weight and then some.
I shared holidays with people I love and watched my squishy little newborn turn into a real live boy who is so.much.fun. I also learned I could survive and function on very little sleep. Very little.
The events of the past year have shaped my life permanently, and I say goodbye to 2010 and my 27th year with a smile.
Happy New Year, everyone!
December 31, 2009
Dear Baby,
Today is my 27th birthday and the last day of 2009. Tonight, your Daddy and I will ring in the new year together with a pizza and a bottle of sparkling cider and celebrate the beginning of 2010 — the year you will be born.
Did you hear that? The year you’re going to be BORN! I can’t tell you how excited that makes me. In a little while I will be heading off to my monthly doctor’s appointment, where I will get to listen to your heartbeat again. I can’t think of a better birthday present than that.
Last night at midnight, Daddy pulled me into a hug and wished me a happy birthday. Then he put his hands on my belly and told you he loved you. You are so lucky, Baby, to be coming into a family filled with love. It will be my mission to make you feel as loved as I do every day of your life. I don’t think that will be hard, since you’re already loved so much.
We don’t have any big plans tonight, just us, home, together. There’s supposed to be some freezing rain anyway, and who wants to be on the road with that?
Sixteen years from today you’re going to ask me if you can go to a party tonight and I will tell you no. You will probably be mad at me and roll your eyes. You’ll tell me I’m so uncool. And I will tell you exactly what your grandmother told me every year — you are my baby and I love you too much for anything to happen to you. New Years Eve is not a safe night to be out. Not until you’re at least 18 and then only if I know where you are at all times and you’re not drinking or getting in a car.
That won’t appease you, but I’m your mother so what I say goes.
I finally really understand what my mother meant, Baby. Because you’re not even here yet and I would give my life to keep you safe.
I will show you this letter someday and hope that you understand.
Twenty-seven is the best birthday by far, I think, because of you. You are exactly 14-weeks old in there and in just 4-6 weeks we will find out if you’re a boy or a girl. That seems like an eternity, but it was just that long ago that we heard your heartbeat for the first time and that feels like just yesterday.
That perfect little heartbeat.
I love you, my little Baby. And I’m so happy that 2010 is going to be your year.
See you in six months!
Love,
Mommy
Happy birthday to me…
…Happy new year to you!
Tomorrow is my 26th birthday. I’ve found that sharing my birthday with New Year’s Eve has been much like a roller coaster, filled with dips and climbs, rushes and lulls.
When I was younger, my birthday parties were always some of the best around, but having the party on December 31st was out of the question. Parents always had plans, vacations were extended, unexpected snow storms closed the roads. School was always closed so class parties happened before, or in the new year. As I got older, friends would gather in my living room for sleepovers, pizza boxes and empty soda bottles littering the floor as we counted down the final seconds of the year.
In college, our beach house became party central — filled with friends and friends of friends toasting with cheap champagne punch sloshing over the side of party cups. I even had my very own special birthday glass, lovingly decorated by my roommate for my 21st.
Post-college, but pre-grown up life, my birthday was found in crowed bars and tables full of drinks with friends crowded around. And now, things are slowly starting to change.
Friends no longer want to make the trip. Others choose dinner parties over bar stools and plans that don’t include old married couples. As I explained to one friend last night, I’m not angry. I realize that as we get older birthdays become less important and I can’t blame them for wanting to go where they will have the most fun.
But sometimes sharing my birthday with a night were everyone in the world is celebrating isn’t so fun after all…when they don’t want to celebrate with you. I suppose that even at 26, growing pains still exist.
I’m not throwing myself a pity party. Quite the opposite. I figure if nothing else, I’ve got this handsome husband I can snuggle up on the couch with, eat some cake and toast the new year and our future together.
I also just bought myself some new bras, and really, what’s more supportive than that?
Hope your new year’s eve was spectacular…
…and that you totally boogied down.
I know I did.
Born: December 31, just short of the new year. The baby born on January 1st belonged to a nurse who worked at the hospital. She had a C-Section.
Age three. I began taking ballet classes. I remember the smell of new ballet slippers, the feel of my hair pulled back tightly in a bun and the desire I felt to be one of the older girls wearing overalls and scrunchy socks and dancing to “Born in the USA”.
Age five. There’s a big couch in my kindergarten classroom. I like to sit there and read. My teacher lets me stay longer than the other kids because she says I’m accelerated. This makes me feel special.
Age six. My sister is born. I go from being an only child to sharing a room. I love every minute of it, except when she cries. That I can do without.
Age nine. I’ve wanted to play the violin since I saw Itzhak Perlman perform on Sesame Street. I’m given the opportunity to choose an instrument in fourth grade and I don’t hesitate for a second. A home video of me playing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” a week after picking up the instrument shows my family trying to hide pained faces.
Age 10. My parents divorce. I break out in hives.
Age 13. I try my first drink at someone’s Bat Miztvah. It’s a Zima and it’s disgusting. I give it back after one sip.
Age 15. High school. I join the crew team and get in the best shape of my life. I meet my first boyfriend and date him until graduation. I travel to Europe.
Age 16. Playing the violin pays off. I spend my summer traveling to Australia, New Zealand, Tahiti and the Cook Islands with my high school’s traveling orchestra. I hold a koala, play a digeridoo, see everything from extreme poverty to extreme wealth and refuse to eat kangaroo.
Age 18. I get into all the schools I applied to, but can’t afford my first choice. I cry for two straight days until I have a revelation somewhere over the middle of the country as we fly home from a trip to California. I decide to accept the scholarship from the college in Rhode Island.
I graduate, but I do not cry.
I leave for college on my sister’s birthday. This time we all cry.
I drink too much the second week of school and find comfort in a girl who lives on my hall. We become instant friends.
Age 19. I meet a boy in a sexy blue uniform. He kisses me by the ocean. I fall in love.
Age 20. I meet a crazy/wonderful girl that tries to talk me into joining a sorority. I laugh at her.
Then I join.
Age 21. We host a huge New Year’s Eve party at the beach house I live in with the instant friend, the crazy/wonderful girl and my roommate from freshman year.
Later in the year I become severely depressed for no reason. It takes almost two months to discover I needed to switch my birth control. Within days of the switch I was back to normal.
Age 22. I graduate college. Walking across the stage is a blur. But as I step off the stage and cross through the arch, the first thing I see is Michael, arms outstretched, beaming at me. He scoops me up in a hug and my heart skips a beat.
I scan the audience for my parents and see that they are beaming as well.
Age 23. After working in a daycare for almost a year, I begin to panic and think I will be stuck there forever. I have what can only be described as a quarter-life crisis. It is not fun. While checking my email one morning, I notice a Monster ad for a publicist position. The ad mentions a love of chocolate and a sense of humor. I am late for working because I’m filling out the application and writing a cover letter.
I get the job.
Age 24. Twenty-four proves to be the best year yet. I make amazing friends who are understanding when I leave for a new job. I become part of an amazing community of bloggers who are there for the good times and the bad.
I get engaged.
I am happy.
Monday is my 25th birthday. And I know that 2008 is going to top all the rest. From kicking off the new year in Vegas, to pledging my love to Michael in October.
I couldn’t want anything more.
(Except maybe some Louboutins.)
Happy New Year to all of you!
Happy 2007! Ignoring the fact that the entire left side of my face was stuffed up and phlegm was collecting in my lungs for days, (mmm, nice) this weekend was great. Boobeski showed up on Saturday and we headed out for a day of shopping with Jen.
Sunday started with more shopping (I bought shoes. Surprised? I’m allowed…it was birthday weekend,) followed by a birthday dinner with us and Michael. Then in typical girly fashion, we took almost two hours to get ready to go out. Poor Michael was bombarded with estrogen and makeup and hair products until he retreated to the couch to watch some television.
My friend Margaret and her boyfriend showed up just in time to go out and we all headed to a local bar. The rest of the night was so much fun…good drinks, good company and a ton of hilarious pictures.
I said goodbye to 2006 with a champagne toast and the sweetest kiss from the man I love. (Saaaaaappy! Yeah, yeah. I know.) It was a wonderful birthday.
Now it’s back to work after 10 days of vacation. Of course it’s a very short week because my family is coming tomorrow night. So I can’t really complain.
I got a few phone calls and a couple of hand-grabs from various people asking “Where’s the ring?” In the back of my mind I had hoped it would happen by my birthday, until Michael and I talked about it on the way home from NY. He didn’t want me to get my hopes up for a New Year’s surprise because he knows me and he knows that if it didn’t happen I wouldn’t be able to hide my disappointment. So he told me flat out. Not this week.
I was bummed for a little bit until I realized that it’s too predictable anyway. He’s always saying he knows I want to be surprised so why would he do it when I was expecting it? And he asked me to show him what kind of rings I like…which I did. Immediately. So I’m taking that as a good sign.
So no, I was not disappointed that I didn’t ring in 2007 with something sparkly on my hand. Because 2006 was a really great year. And I think 2007 is going to be even better.
These Little Moments 