I think I’ve stalled long enough into january to not feel obligated to write about the new year and fresh starts and rah! rah! rah! 2013! I’m not one to make new year’s resolutions. it’s just another day, really. but…there is something about starting or finishing a project or significant event on a clear, clean point. I’m anal enough to appreciate that. because I’m the kind of person who is bothered by things like widowed words, and mathematical remainders and orphaned socks. I appreciate things like the symmetry of a person dying on their own birthday, or twins marrying sibling twins. (wow, this post got weird, fast.)
so instead of a drawn out telling of what 2012 was like (craptastic, with sparks of life-alteringly amazing), and what my hopes and dreams and plans are for 2013 (winning the lottery, and getting a pony), I’ll share with you using my own measuring stick. not of time and calendar, but of family. because my days are gauged by their health and happiness and homework. their extracurricular events and travel and behavior reports. their emotional drama, and independence versus mother-clinging. the juggling of schedule and mom-taxi-ing. their packed lunches and never-enough-snacktimes and dinner requests. this is the stuff I capture and keep, to post on facebook or tuck away in memory boxes.
so right now, no showcasing of weddings or realty or events or models or food. instead, family. this family:
because this is how I was brought up. family. family family family. sometimes the first to attack, but always the last line of defense. built-in playmates. people who are related friends and everyday witnesses. understanders of jokes and references and house-language that other people find puzzling. this is what I want my children to understand and to feel and to treasure. being together, and the everyday-ness of it all.