2013
Twenty Twelve
It’s okay that I’m doing my year-end wrap up on January 24 because (a) it’s still January and (b) I still have a stack of Christmas cards that need to go out. Yes I do. (Shut up.)
Now let’s shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it like an Instagram picture.
1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?
Got fired (kind of), tore myself away from daycare and became a mom of a preschooler, flew alone with two kids, road tripped as a family of four, breastfed in the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, camped pregnant.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I suppose there were some, but eeeehhhhhh. Last year was about cooking a baby to completion and then getting him halfway to one, so my expectations of getting anything else done were few and, apparently, easily forgotten.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Ooh! Ooh! I know this one! ME.
There was a big Twitter birth club too (Jessica, Jonna, Alexa, Tamara, Erin, Kate, Anne, people I’m probably forgetting), and it was fun to follow along with everyone’s experiences, even at the very end when I felt like the only one without a baby because mine didn’t want to get out.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
We really thought our cat, Eve, would kick it in 2012, as she’s been pretty grossly sick for a while. When we left for Southern California over Christmas, I even told Wombat to say a special goodbye to her “because she might be dead when we get back.” (Something about death makes me so heinously uncomfortable I lose all tact.) I was pleasantly surprised she was still tapping around the hardwoods upon our return, and although Simon keeps reminding me that it might be time to “discuss our role in her mortality,” I’m happy to have her snuggle under the covers and head-butt my chin for the time being. Lord but she is skinny, though.
5. What countries did you visit?
None. This reminds me that I need to renew my passport and get some for the boys because we have family in England and never know when we might have to jet over there for an emergency summer vacation to the seaside or whatever.
6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?
I think having a household budget would serve us well. We’re making money and paying bills and have been playing it by ear just fine so far, but now that I’m not working a steady job and we’ll soon have preschool and daycare fees to the tune of something like $3K/month (CAN YOU EVEN?), it might be time to get our finances squared away in something resembling a responsible and grown-up manner. Where’s the graph paper and my TI-82?
7. What dates from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Fox was born on July 16, which was FIVE DAYS LATE, YOUNG MAN, but also Simon’s deceased father’s birthday, which is pretty cool. I never met the man, but his is the dormant blue-eye gene that passed through Simon to Fox, so he’s in there somewhere, somehow.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Having a second child and dealing with all that entails without freaking the fuck out. I had all the lowest expectations of my ability to handle a newborn/infant in addition to terrible-threes older child, so although I’ll concede that it’s much easier to clear hurdles that are teeny-tiny miniature hurdles for especially athletic leprechauns, I still did it and am duly proud and amazed and have since given myself a pat on the back in the form of eating a giant tub of Red Vines all by myself over the course of two weeks. *urp*
9. What was your biggest failure?
Hrm. You know, I’ve heard other bloggers criticized for always being so shiny and happy and nothing-ever-goes-wrong-in-my-perfectly-styled-worldy, and although I’m sure that in a lot of cases that’s an intentional arrangement of a more complicated life, I also know that there are people out there (like me) who really don’t dwell on the negative past, so much so that they have trouble remembering it when asked things like “What was your biggest failure?” When this question came up, my brain just went *booooooooooooooop*. But seriously, how am I supposed to remember my failures of the past when I’m so busy worrying about potential failures in my potential future? I’m not superwoman! #paranoidpessimist
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
We were all wonderfully healthy this year, and I am so, so, so, so glad for it.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
The fairy castle cottage wonderland playhouse thingy, which is currently overgrown with winter ferns and toadstools.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Wombat has turned into the most amazing big brother. I knew he’d be good, but I didn’t think he’d be such a natural, and such a helper. The main issue between them is Wombat’s excessive enthusiasm. It started when newborn Fox came home and Wombat was so excited he was constantly amped up to 11 and I had a tranq gun aimed at his backside twelve hours a day. Now I spend about an hour, cumulative, telling him to “back off” and “give him space” and “STOP SMOTHERING HIM,” to which the only reply is “But he’s so cuuuuuuuute,” a statement there’s really no arguing with.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Let’s just say that election season doesn’t, ah, bring out the best in everyone.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Mortgage and daycare/preschool, more constant than death and taxes.
15. What did you get really excited about?
Summer evenings roasting hot dogs over the fire in the backyard. Wombat learning to read and write better and better. Birthin’ a wee bairn (and it was exciting, and some day I’ll get around to writing it up proper-like). Spending Christmas with the in-laws we don’t get to see enough (and going to Disneyland!).
16. What song will always remind you of 2012?
We listen to “Carry On” by Fun an awful lot in the car because that’s exactly how long it takes to get to preschool in the morning. I also think the message is sweet, which is something I can’t say for Wombat’s other accidental favorite, “Pumped-Up Kicks,” which I’m trying to convince him has been officially changed to go “All the other babies with the pinked-up cheeks better run, better run, faster than my pinchers,” etc. Still working on it.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
–happier or sadder?
Still happy.
–thinner or fatter?
Thinner! Hooray! I’ve been working really hard and as of last week am only 5 lbs up from my pre-pregnancy weight (although my pants still don’t really fit).
–richer or poorer?
Richer? Maybe? Simon was unemployed for a few months but then got a new job, and I took on a bunch of extra freelance work but then took two months of unpaid leave at the end of the year and then lost my steady job altogether, so…multiply by twelve, carry the one aaaaand…I have no idea. WE NEED A BUDGET.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Spending time in the backyard enjoying the summer weather. We did A LOT of that–kiddie pool, bubble wands, homemade popsicles, lemonade, wiener roasts, the whole shebang–but when the season ended I still hadn’t had my fill. Summer makes me greedy.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Using pregnancy as an excuse to eat so many enchiladas because THE BABY NEEDS QUESO. Just kidding. I regret nothing enchilada-related!
20. How did you spend Christmas?
It was my first Christmas away from my family ever (I still can’t believe it), and we had an AMAZING time with Simon’s family in Southern California. His sister flew in with her family from England, all ten of us stayed in my MIL’s house for eight days and nights, and I think we defied every law of family physics by getting along for so many days without any drama.
21. Did you fall in love in 2012?
Oh yes. I mean, just look at him! He hasn’t had an ugly day yet.
22. What was your favorite TV program?
I started Parenthood on maternity leave and watched something like 52 episodes in two or three weeks. If you needed proof that I am, in fact, an impressively well-programmed android, I have only cried thrice in five seasons, but the show is still excellent excellent, and you should watch it. I also went into Bunheads very skeptical, but man, this week someone referred to chairs wrapped in plastic as “Laura Palmer furniture,” and oh, Amy Sherman-Palladino, where you lead, I will follow. Sherlock is also a really, really, really good time.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
I hate this question, so let’s ignore it here and excise it from all future recaps. Less hate, more love, bro.
24. What was the best book you read?
East of Eden was super-duper fantastic, like whoa. Did I read Prayer for Owen Meany this year? Good gracious, I loved it. I keep pimping Bringing Up Bébé, and I will keep pimping it until everyone reads it, so get going. I’m halfway through Cloud Atlas right now and holy hell, David Mitchell, are you a wizard or what? I would like to dedicate this year of reading actual books to accidentally letting my New Yorker subscription lapse for the first time in, god, twelve, thirteen years? (Look out 2013: I got a Groupon for $5 for a year of Cosmo.)
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I remember exactly when I first heard Fun. I had just come out of my gestational diabetes test and caught the last half of “We Are Young” while chompity-chewing my way through a smorgasbord of snacks and the whole time I kept trying to figure out where I’d heard the song before because it was so good it felt familiar. Has that ever happened to you? I mean, I guess I could have heard it somewhere before (it was released in September of 2011 and I heard it in February of 2012, and yes I just looked that up because I’m a compulsive fact-checker), but I’ve had this feeling before (with Hamlet and Death of a Salesman and “Such Great Heights” and the first time I met Simon, actually), so I think it’s a form of personal déjà vu that signals “This. This is special.”
26. What did you want and get?
A healthy baby boy. New slippers. Laid. Heh.
27. What did you want and not get?
A goddamn subscription to Real Simple, which I only point out because it’s been on my What To Get Me for Christmas/My Birthday Since You Were Kind Enough To Ask list for like two years.
27a. What did you not want and not get?
A c-section. Burglarized. The trots after eating tainted enchiladas.
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Okay, this isn’t a really a film, it’s a miniseries, but Masterpiece’s Wuthering Heights, with Tom Hardy and Charlotte Riley, was so good we watched it three times in one week. I watched it by myself one night, and then when I wouldn’t shut up abbout it, Simon agreed to watch it with me, and the next day he wanted to go back and just see how it started, which led to us watching the whole thing again, and then his mom came to town a few days later and we watched it again with her. So. Yes. Good.
Anonymous we also watched twice in a row and talked about for days (some about the film but mostly about the Question of Shakespeare in general; the bard was my focus in college), and although I’m usually rather ridiculously overprotective of how the subject is treated (I poop on you, Shakespeare in Love), this one was thoroughly enjoyable, overacting and explosions and all.
Others we liked* (that I can only remember courtesy of our Netflix record, which doesn’t include what we streamed): Young Adult. Moonrise Kingdom. Looper. Like Crazy. The Box. And I loved introducing Wombat to Mary Poppins and Winnie the Pooh and Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
*I say “we” not because I’m not allowed to like movies all by myself but because the best ones are the ones Simon and I talk and talk and talk and talk about afterward (and sometimes through).
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 33 (Jesus year, and I have thus far cured no lepers; sigh). I didn’t do anything super-special (except freak out because my blog broke), but I enjoyed the day just being all navel-gazey, as you (I) do.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
I wish we had an in with Southwest so we could fly to see our parents (and fly them to see us) more often. I hate that they’re not around to see the kids grow up, and I also miss them because I like them quite a bit.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012?
Fat pants. FAT PANTS.
32. What kept you sane?
The Internet, again. For all the ways it’s crazymaking, I can’t imagine doing what I do without it–without you–and that goes for everything from making social connections, having this space to blather and emote, and picking up extra work that challenges me and keeps my new-mom brain from turning to mush.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Barack Obama is kind of super-awesome.
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Gun control.
35. Who did you miss?
My parents and brother. Daycare Lady. All the folks who got to go to BlogHer12.
36. Who was the best new person you met?
Foxy-boo.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012.
Most of the time, making a decision doesn’t mean I’m choosing something FOREVER. If I choose poorly, there may be unpleasant consequences (public humiliation! regret and woe! a terrible rash or mild burning sensation!), but there is probably also the option to change my mind and try again.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
We are shining stars
We are invincible
We are who we are
On our darkest day
When we’re miles away
So we’ll come
We will find our way home
If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound
Of your feet upon the ground
Carry on
2013
Finding Our Feet
Unrelated ad unit!
***
Holy moly. Having a life can be a real time-suck.
We’re (still) sleep training Fox (me, in the middle of the night: “Pipe down or I’m going to put you in a drawer, son”) and I’ve been working nights and weekends editing a giant book (I get paid to read literary fiction; I am living the dreeeeeam!) and Simon had a birthday (brownies!) and we’re planning two parties for the beginning of next month (on the same day because we’re nutso) and Simon’s band is practicing for two upcoming gigs (band widow) and I took both boys for vaccinations at the same time (eeeeeeeeee) and I have rediscovered headbands and non-maternity pants and we’re putting out fires, big and little, left and right, and all of this is fine and good but what I really want to do is just sit in front of the fire and read Cloud Atlas (with brownies) but because that’s not compatible with mothering an infant who is TRYING TO CRAWL (staaaaahp), I instead break up the day by making too-frequent trips to locations that pay into my bottomless need to own many giant woven storage bins, ceramic and glass vases, and fake flowers (I know) to fill those vases.
It’s a wonderful mad, mad, mad, mad life.
I have about a million posts in draft about Important Things, but am choosing to do Important Things in real-time instead (e.g., I am exercising instead of writing a post about my experience doing Biggest Blogging Loser), so if you want to read about Important Things, allow me to direct you to my latest Work It, Mom post, about how guilt gives me permission to be a bad mother. It’s a good one (IMO).
If you are, however, interested in Not Necessarily Important But Cuuuuuuute Things, allow me to direct you below, where my six-month-old shows you that he’s found his feet, in more ways than one.
Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!
2013
We Are All Babies
The orderly who wheeled me and my swaddling babe from the maternity ward to the curb, where my awaiting chariot (our ten-year-old SUV) awaited, was a giant. He must have been close to seven feet tall, and he had to stoop to reach the sure-grip handles behind my shoulders. He was an unsettling combination of immense and gawky-awkward, as if, like a teenager, he was still learning how to operate himself. He had a patchy reddish beard trying its best to fill in, and although he didn’t speak, I imagined his voice coming out like a teenager’s too, in a cadence spanning several octaves, the pubescent accidental yodeler. In a photo snapped of our grand exit from the hospital, I see he had to duck when we passed through the automatic front doors of the lobby. The newborn in my arms is as long as his shoe.
Having a baby does all kinds of things to a person. Me, I was endowed with the dubiously-super superpower to see everyone around me as the babies they formerly were. When I looked at that orderly, I saw him as both a grown man and a taut-round infant with a little campfire of hair burning on the top of his head. I see the parking lot security guard with those same deep dimples in his fat baby cheeks. In the car, see my husband as a slit-eyed infant, admittedly cribbing off my memory of the actual baby photos in the hall at his mother’s house. We stop for burritos on the way home, our hospital bracelets still bunched at our wrists, begging the question no one will give us the pleasure of answering, and when the cashier messes up our tally for the third time in a row and acts huffy, as if it were somehow our fault he pushed the wrong buttons, all I want to do is pat him on the head and pop a bottle in his mouth and tell him Shh, it will be all right. Everything will be all right.
It’s a complicated superpower (as I imagine most probably are). It turns the world into a big round playpen, both for better and for worse. We are all innocent, we are all joyful, we are all reveling in our chubby thighs and fascinated with the miracle of our own hands as we watch them turn this way and that, flexing and stretching, making fists and then five-fingered stars and then fists again, which we shove into our mouths. We are also single-minded and fragile. So, so fragile. We are defenseless and clumsy and we have no idea what we’re doing. We need our mommies. We need a nap. Some of us need a time out.
At times, I do what I can to turn this power off. It’s hard to see homeless babies slumped in dark doorways. It’s hard to see them wearing out the pavement on the same street corner day after day in their shoes like platform stilts made out of coffee cans and string. It’s hard to see them in suits and ties and drinking martinis in the light of noon. It’s hard to see them wearing douchebag sunglasses indoors, buying toilet paper and beer and Tums at the grocery store yet still trying desperately to look cool. It’s hard to reconcile that some of these babies are walking down the sidewalk packing heat.
Becoming a mother makes you tough, they say. You will find strength you didn’t know you had. You will awaken a bear within you.
They don’t say, Becoming a mother will strip you down to your bones and nerves and make everything sharp like a knife, like a drop of acid. They don’t say, Your feelings will be magnified and you will wonder why humans haven’t evolved better coping mechanisms than listening to upbeat music and buying decorative doodads online at clearance prices. They tell you it’s harder to hear about bad things happening to children. They don’t tell you it’s harder to hear about bad things happening to anyone.
I have a superpower I don’t always want, but I’m learning how to harness it. It’s not all bad. It reminds me where we came from and where we’re going. It is a spotlight of perspective on a dark stage. It helps me be more gentle with others. It helps me be more gentle with myself. I am someone’s baby too. Shh, everything will be all right.
