2013 in Pictures

Before I wax rhapsodic about what I did and didn't accomplish this year, let's have the photo spam. My favorite pictures of 2013:

January
Our decision to get a vasectomy was the right one. Even if I still feel sad every time I think that I'll never be pregnant again. Because I am insane.

February
Three of the most delightful children I've ever known

March- a tie
SI and DD helping Aunt Genocide with the four questions. The first time we've had a Passover seder without my parents, and hopefully the last for a very long time

March- a tie
Grandma and Grandpa came to town for Easter, and we walked up to the chapel for services. It was a beautiful day, despite my panic fueled humiliation. 

April- a four way tie
People have told me since they were born that my kids should be models. Well, if I were going to send a picture of DD to an agency... it would be this.

April- a four way tie
I love everything about this picture. Everything.

April- a four way tie
That's one stylish guy I'm married to.

April- a four way tie
We went to New York City for my cousin's bar mitzvah... and if there's one picture that sums up everything about it that meant the world to me, it's this one- my daughter playing with my cousin, while my great aunt watches. My children had never met half of my family. Never. And of course, everyone loved each other instantly. I will never forget it. And neither will they.

May
Poppa, SI, Aunt Something Funny, and DD.
We went to Grinnell for my father to receive an honorary doctorate. It was amazing, and wonderful, and beautiful, and one of the best long weekends we have ever shared.

June- another tie
I finally got to introduce my children to my best friends, and it was magical and amazing.

June- another tie
The bride- a friend of mine for fifteen years- kidnapped my children and took photo after photo after photo with them.

July- another three way tie
We saw the Body Worlds Animals exhibit at the MSI, with our Spanish loaner teenager.

July- three way tie
DD steering the River Queen in Au Sable

July- three way tie
SI steering the River Queen in Au Sable

August
SI and DD were flower girls at the wedding of another friend.

September
DD and SI second first day of school

October- another tie
SI and DD turn four years old

October- another tie
Our family of superheroes

November
I don't care about how much happened in November. This is my favorite picture. Aunt Something Funny reading to her nieces. It just doesn't get better than this.

December
The three sweetest little girls I know.

Now- onto 2014!

Each year, I eschew the traditional "New Year's Resolution" in favor of a to-do list. But rather than a bucket list of things I want to do, I give myself a checklist every single day of simple tasks I'd like to accomplish to make my life better.

I've been doing this for years now.

I know how many paintings I painted and how many books I read, and nearly how many hours I played with my infant twins in 2009.

I can tell you ridiculously mundane details about 2010. For example, I read 21 books that year, three shy of my goal. I cooked on 239 days.

In 2011 I wrote on 321 days. I cooked even more often, and I read a whopping 28 books.

In 2012 I started focusing on more self care. I managed to eat two meals on 347 days. Yeah, I measure that.

So what about 2013?

Me, hard at work, writing a book

Goal: Wrote Daily (365)
Outcome: 293
I feel like I should be shocked I wrote so little, but then I consider what I DID write. I was published on HuffPo a dozen times. I finished a first AND second draft of an entire book. You know what? I might not have remembered to sit down and pen a haiku each day, but I'm very pleased with what I accomplished.

Goal: Ate Two Meals Daily (365)
Outcome: 336
This number went down. And while part of me wants to feel guilty that I did so poorly at feeding myself, I have to remember... I kept getting sick. I kept not being able to eat. And maybe I wasn't as good to myself as I should have been, but I feel better than I did a year ago. I feel healthier (cold notwithstanding) than I did a year ago. I'm going say I succeeded here too.

Goal: Maintained Hygiene Daily (365)
Outcome: 281
Yes, this is still totally unacceptable. But I did better than last year, horrifically enough. And every day that RH is more independent and each day that her big sisters are more interested in playing with her is a day where I can take five minutes to splash some water on my face and brush my teeth. I'm determined to bring my weekly shower average up to at least a two. I think I can do it.

Goal: Went Outside 6xWeek (312)
Outcome: 268
I know I could do better, but I'm pleased to know this number is going up. Plus, now that RH finally walks, I'm confident there are more trips up and down the stairs in the coming year.

Going to BlogHer and meeting this awesome lady?
(And lots of other awesome ladies?) Rocked it.

Goal: Had Alone Time 5xWeek (260)
Outcome: 238
I totally nailed this one. That said, I only nailed it because I enforced nap time so strictly. If this week is any indication, 2013 will bring a fairly dramatic change in nap time. Mostly, in that most days I'm not sure the big girls will take one. And that's a little terrifying. I'll have to find another way to get some time to myself.

Goal: Exercised 3xWeek (156)
Outcome: 123
Pretty damn close! Of course, the bulk of that "exercise" was grown up private time, which I recognize only counts if you're a) very athletic about it, and b) take an awful long time. So I recognize that I didn't *really* get as much exercise as I like to pretend I might have. That said, the new year will definitely have me sweatin' with Richard Simmons some more, so I'm hoping that 2014 will blow that number out of the water.

Goal: Observed Sabbath (as much as 52- but realistically closer to 35)
Outcome: 29
And you know what? That's not half bad. Considering the number of nights M and I had Friday dates, or were out of town on a Friday night... I'd estimate we lit Sabbath candles at home four out of five weeks. So I think I can do better, but I'm glad it's becoming so habitual. Which is really the point of all of this.

Goal: Finished Book 1xMonth (12)
Outcome: 9
This is where I really failed. Especially considering how many books I started. I have four unfinished books on my Kindle, and two on my shelf. If I'd managed to FINISH them I'd be really pleased with myself. Instead? I'm kind of embarrassed. This year- less WordFeud and more reading!

Goal: Made Art 1xMonth (12)
Outcome: 13
CRUSHED IT. Yes, I counted costumes and cards as "art," but let's be honest... it's a creative enterprise, and there are lots of post-modernists who would completely accept a gallery show of homemade children's Halloween costumes as a legitimate thing. So I'm taking it.


I'm only making two changes in my 2014 goals. Instead of "Made Art," it will be "Finished project." And I'm adding another one- "Sang."

It shocks me how little singing I've done recently, and I know I'm emotionally healthier when I sing a lot. So now, it's a daily to-do. So- you can expect there will be many more karaoke nights in 2014 than the last year saw.

Happy New Year, one and all!

I'm Not A Doctor, I Just Play One

Paging Doctor DD, Doctor DD, to the ER...

On Thursday afternoon, Aunt Genocide called.

"Is anybody sick?"
I paused. "Well, RH has a runny nose, because she's a baby so she always has a runny nose."
"Anyone else?"
"Well, I've got a tickle in the back of my throat. But that's it!"
"Oh good. I'm just getting over some bronchitis, and I really can't afford to get sick again."
"Don't worry about it, just come and have some fun."

And so the next day she drove into Chicago.

I made an epic dinner of loaded baked potatoes. It's the thing I make that Aunt Genocide likes best. Giant potatoes, roasted to absolute perfection, smothered in butter, caramelized onions, mushrooms Berkely, steamed broccoli, cheddar cheese, fake bacon, and sour cream.

Plus, a healthy side of fake ribs. (Steak for M.)

I haven't been able to eat large quantities of food for months, so I limited myself to half an overloaded potato. And I felt pretty good about it, overall.

Then the next morning came. As I wanted to give Aunt Genocide the whole vacation experience, I made a gigantic breakfast of California Benedict, pomegranates, mixed berries, and asparagus. With coffee and orange juice. I ate too much again. That was when DD puked all over the table.

My children possess the ability to puke at will, sort of as a manner of protest. But any time your kid pukes over breakfast... well...

That night at a marvelous Indian restaurant, I over ate AGAIN. By the time Aunt Genocide and I left our show (and if you haven't seen The Color Purple, you're missing out), I was feeling bad.

Not just bad, horrible.

Aunt Genocide watched me sweat in her passenger seat, warning me over and over not only that she would kill me if I got her sick, but that her boyfriend would kill her is passed it on to him.

So all night I tossed and turned. By morning it was clear that I had a kidney infection- fortunately not contagious.

But I just kept getting worse. By Monday night, I could hardly breathe. I was hacking and coughing, gasping for air. Eventually I gave up on corralling the kids, I lay down on the floor of the playroom to wait until bedtime.

"Mommy? Are you sick?"
"Yes honey, I'm sick."
"I'm going to check your blood pressure!"
"I'm going to look in your ears!"

The two four year olds used every tool in their doctor's kits. I got half a dozen shots.
"Think of something happy, mommy!"

They otoscoped my ears and nose.
"Your ears look good, Mommy!"

They checked my reflexes. They checked my temperature. They looked at my tonsils. They listened to my heart. And I just lay on the floor, coughing miserably.

SI and DD conferred in quiet tones. Then they reached a consensus. My ailment was beyond the scope of their medical knowledge.

Dr. RH, ready for surgery

They each grabbed a magic wand from the dress up box. I lay face down on the rug, wheezing into my shirt, until it became clear that even magic wouldn't save me. They needed to call in a specialist.

Up toddled RH, uneasy on her chubby, awkward legs.

With the sweetest bedside manner, she grabbed the abandoned doctor's kit.

With a gleeful grin, she double-measured my temperature. Then she checked the reflexes in my mouth. Then otoscoped my mouth. Listened to my heart beat, in my mouth. And checked my blood pressure... in my mouth.

She then wrapped her little arms around me and kissed my thigh.

"All done!"

Guess I'm cured.

Oh- and after a clinic visit, two types of inhalers, and a switch of antibiotic I've gotten a diagnosis from a real doctor, too. It's bronchitis.

I'm going to kill Aunt Genocide for this one.

Well, That Took A Turn

No ifs, ands, or butts.

DD and RH gobbled their eggs as fast as I could dish them out. SI picked at her, soaking up as much maple syrup as possible with her pancakes.

I grinned at my children. "Good job, DD! You're eating so much!"

"I am a egg eating machine!"

"You ate so many eggs!" SI piped up. "You have a chubby butt!"

DD looked around, as though she could see her butt from a seated position by glancing over elbow. "I do? Mommy, do I have a chubby butt? Like RH?"

Crap. Body image. Why do I have to keep calling the baby "chubby butt?" Shit shit shit shit shit...

"Um, yeah, you do. And that's great! You have a perfect butt!"

"My butt is chubby?"

"What about MY butt?" SI pushed back from the table, and hoisted her skirt up over her underwear.

"You also have a perfect butt, sweetie."

"Is it chubby?"

"I don't know! But there are lots of perfect kinds of butt! Chubby butts, and flat butts, and heart shaped butts..."

"Heart shaped?" DD perked up immediately- she is very aware that there is no more perfect shape than a heart. Particularly if it's pink.

"Yup. Like upside down hearts.

"That's silly!" she giggled.

"It is."

"What about balloon butts?" SI asked.

"Yes, there are balloon butts. Daddy has a balloon butt!"

They both laughed.

"And daddy's butt is perfect," I added.

"What about butts with heads?" SI asked, grinning mischievously.

"Yes, there are definitely butts with heads." I refrained from naming names.

"What about butts with arms?" she asked again.

"I don't think I've ever seen a butt with arms..."

"I have!" DD jumped in. "I've seen a butt with a hand on it!"

"Well..."

"A butt with a hand!" SI laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her chair.

"Who has a butt with a hand?" I asked.

"Aunt Genocide!"

"She does?"

"YES!" they both dissolved into giggles again.

"Who's hand is on Aunt Genocide's butt? Is it her hand or somebody else's?"

"Somebody else's." DD said seriously.

SI nodded. "It's daddy's hand."

"Daddy's hand is on Aunt Genocide's butt? I think I need to have a talk with daddy."

"Why?"

"Because it's not okay to put your hands on people's butt."

They both froze, staring at me.

"Why?"

"Um... people are private, and they don't like it when other people touch their bottoms."

"But I like touching butts," said SI.

"I know you like touching your butt, but-"

"RH likes touching HER bottom!" DD yelled across the table.

"Yes, and that's okay. But it's only ever okay to touch somebody else's bottom if you ask first."

They looked at me like I was crazy. I had to admit they were onto something.

"If you want to touch somebody's bottom, you have to ask first. Say, 'Can I touch your butt?' And if they say yes, then you can touch their butt."

They nodded solemnly.

"And nobody can touch your butt unless they ask you first. Unless," I added quickly, "unless they're helping you wipe your bottom after you went to the potty. Then they don't have to ask permission, because they're already doing you a favor."

"Okay, mommy."

"Let's watch Sesame Street, okay?"

"Yay! Sesame Street!"

----

Somebody please tell me I'm not the only one having these ridiculous conversations with my three year olds?

Five Years

Stolen moments on a special day

At seven o'clock, the phone rang. It rang four times before I managed to get it to my ear and croak out a greeting.

It was as crazy as I look.

I had been in bed for six hours, and I knew it was only by the grace of God that I hadn't spent that time puking my brains out instead.

There's a reason you don't actually want to have your bachelorette party the night before your wedding.

It was the manager of one of the hotel where we had a block of rooms, and he was calling to tell me that he was going to charge me for every single one that hadn't been rented.

It was going to be $700.

Screaming for forty minutes on the phone with that hotel manager, and his wife, and a few other people, kept me from vomiting just a little bit longer. As my oldest and dearest friends snuck past my bedroom to find some coffee or toast while they waited for the day's insanity to commence, I vomited spectacularly.

The meal that nearly killed a groomsman...

And that was how my wedding day began.

Five years ago, as of this moment, I was taking M's anti-nausea pills- diagnosed for his chemotherapy treatments- so that I would stop puking long enough to set up the hall where we would be married.

The centerpieces were already made, but still in a few pieces. There were balloons- GIANT balloons- to be filled, lanterns to be strung, chocolates to be strewn around, linens to be steamed.

I wandered in a daze in and out of the kitchen, where Aunt Genocide was construction a spectacle of a cake, the likes of which may have never been seen before or since. Aside from the epic quantities of cake in the concoction for display, there were also half a dozen sheet cakes of the same. Batches and batches and batches of chocolate butter cream frosting, hundreds of gum paste forget-me-nots, one of my favorite flowers. And although we had not once discussed what would top the cake, hand dipped chocolate covered strawberries- on tuxedo dipped with a little bow tie, one in white, with a stem like a veil, a gum paste forget-me-not affixed like a bouquet.

Aunt Green watching Aunt Genocide make some magic

Just when I felt that I might finally be past the after effects of my utterly spectacular night of karaoke and penis crowns, my bridesmaids convinced me that I needed to wear makeup for my big day.

Yeah, that was when that decision was made.

And despite my protestations, mascara was applied. And a giant gloop of it fell into my eye.

As I cried and whimpered and sobbed and wept and begged for somebody to help me before I was covered in mascara tears and blind forever, my bridesmaids laughed their asses of at me.

And then I got married.

I wasn't covered in mascara...

We said "I do..."

We became husband and wife...

We danced...

Everybody danced...

We ate like kings...

We celebrated with our best friends...

We ran off into the night...

And we lived happily ever after.

These have been the best five years of my life.

Is This Heaven? No, It's Iowa.

With thanks to Grinnell College

This past weekend, we went to Iowa for Grinnell College's commencement.

It's not just that I absolutely love college graduations, we had a reason. Poppa was being presented with an honorary doctorate.

He was very happy about this honor.

I know, he's so dignified.

Really though, he is. After watching him blush through his introduction, I recommend watching his whole address. It's only four and a half minutes long.

It was amazing to see everyone. It was the first time since M and I got married that all of us have been together at the same time. (That's five years on Thursday.)

We arrived Saturday afternoon, and caught up with Great-Grandmommy and Great-Granddaddy, as well as Great-Great Aunt E, Aunt Green, Aunt Genocide, Grandmommy and Poppa

The college wined and dined us in grand fashion.

The kids went to bed, Aunt Something Funny arrived, and we spent a lovely night together. For real, Grinnell really knows hospitality. We had a spectacular stay.

Poppa's old advisor took the entire gang out for brunch.

Aunt Something Funny taught the girls to play a new game...

Then after a brief rest, it was time for a picnic on campus.

It's a gorgeous campus, even in the balmy, oppressive heat.

Then we all gussied up for dinner at the President's house. (No, that's not it behind us. That's Grinnell House, where we all stayed.)

After a trip to the Observatory that turned into attempted waterboarding of the SuperMommy family by the sky, everyone raided the kitchen for snacks, drinks, and ice. It was a marvelous time.

The next morning, it was up and off to commencement.

We watched some truly wonderful speeches- including a poem performed by Sarah Kay. It was great.

Then Poppa was presented with his honorary doctorate, to match his real doctorate, but not plaid. (...because everything that has anything to do with Carnegie Mellon is plaid. The MASCOT is plaid. Excuse me. "Tartan.")

Poppa delivered a killer speech, link above.

And then, once again, my camera died.

We picnicked again, we laughed and chatted and then bid our tearful farewells. The SuperMommy family piled back into our minivan and trekked back to Chicago, where nobody is going to feed us amazing stuffed slivered eggplant or eight layer chocolate coffee torte, or take us out for eggs and hash browns.

Poppa should get honorary Ph.D.s every year.