Last year I spent the last month rotating some of my favorite posts of the year. And by "favorites" I meant, "favorites to write." I meant to do the same thing this year but instead committed to a squillion contests/giveaways and an extended family of sponsored material which left little room for nostalgic ramblings outside the weekly photo post and a few scattered words about sleeplessness. That's December round these here parts and I'm lucky enough to make a great portion of my yearly earnings the last few weeks of the year, leaving little time for sorting through yesterday's posts and composing tomorrow's. Until, of course, today. When I sat down to post some of the highs and lows of the past twelve months, a year which has been, in a word: momumental. (Sorry, that was lame. But true. Lame but true.)
On New Years Eve, 2010 I wrote about slowing down:
...We tend to focus our attention on how fast things accelerate because all drivers have a need for speed. Zero to thirty. Zero to fifty. Zero to one hundred miles per hour without slowing down. In the past, de-acceleration has felt to me like failure when really, it's the speed at which we slow down that showcases our ability to drive. 2011 = break and roll down the window. So much to see beyond the glass...
2011 was supposed to be the year of reflection and stilling the mind, Alan Watts style. A zen year of exploring the internal. The year of om. Of pausing to exhale. Pausing to inhale. Pausing to exhale, serenity now. Except that didn't happen...
What happened instead: On Hal and my sixth wedding anniversary, we spent the night in a hotel...
...I got pregnant. Found out I was carrying twins. Panicked. Stopped panicking. Watched my belly grow. Went to New York on our first family vacation. Watched my belly grow more. And more. And more. Archer turned six. I turned thirty. Fable started school.
...We bought a minivan. I obsessed over the nursery. Shopped for the nursery. Finished the nursery. My belly kept growing. And growing.
...Two weeks later they came home. On that same day we were told we'd have to move. Hal changed jobs. We celebrated Bo and Revi's first three months, cross-dressed on Halloween, played with dollhouses, counted our blessings, cursed each other, made up, marveled at our children as siblings, adored each other.
In that time I wrote about graying hair, forgoing college and the controversies of compliments. I wrote about discussing death, Osama Bin Laden and why I think it's important for kids to share bedrooms. I wrote about changes occurring overnight and magic hours that occur some evenings, bad haircuts and snails.
I posted weekly updates on my pregnancy, and then daily updates on Bo and Revi's NICU stay, wrote about the names we considered and the names we chose, posted a thousand photographs because I couldn't help myself, sped so fast that everything blurred...
If what I wrote last NYE is indeed true, that slowing down is what showcases our ability to drive, then I'm nowhere near assessing my prowess behind the wheel. What I do know is that I managed to make it through 2011 without crashing, thanks to the love and support of family, friends and all of you.
"Everything is temporary" has been 2011's mantra. And without fail, everything has been. The morning sickness went away. The fear subsided. The pressure disappeared, came back, went away again. First smiles appeared and with them, the storage of newborn pajamas. Days ended. Weeks began. Hal and I fought and made up. I was pregnant and then I wasn't. I worried and then I didn't. I couldn't sleep and then I could. I didn't sleep and then I did. Everything was temporary. For better, for worse: temporary.
It's been a tremendous year full of magic and wonder and insanity and life, of great love and laughter, tears, fucking up and bucking up and learning to open up to life's unexpected gifts. Thank you all for reading, for letting me share, for being my peeps. Looking forward to 2012 and all the crazy wonderful yet to come.
With love and gratitude,
Bec
