At the end of the year it is (apparently) expected that you will do one of Those Posts. You know the ones. A Year In Review. A look back at the year that has come and gone in the blink of an eye, and try to capture all that it was.
I thought that instead of posting photos by month, I should maybe just post some of my favorite photos. Such as these:
As I started to go through my (many) folders of photos….I was just not feeling it. This is not to knock those of you who can pull of those end of the year photo posts with ease. I just find that trying to post where there is no inspiration is similar to that of trying to get milk out of these breasts of mine. They are all dried up, yo.
I thought maybe I should let the year-end pass. I do not have to post. I could pretend like it is any other day.
However.
There is something about a whole new year. I am not one to make New Year resolutions. Again, not to knock those who do. I have just never participated, and choose to make resolutions throughout the year as the need arises. The start of a new year, I think, is a great time to reflect at where you have come from, and where you are going.
This past year has been my best one yet. I have a husband that loves me more with each passing year, and children who just get neater and cooler as the days go buy.
I have reconnected with friends who I thought were lost forever, I have grown closer to friends in my circle of girls, I have made some new friendships that I think will stand the test of time.
I shot my first (and second and third) wedding and had more fun than I ever imagined. I also realized that I do not want to do photography full-time, lest it lose my love for it. I am beyond happy to keep it as a once-in-awhile endeavor.
I have been given some amazing opportunities. I love my little corner of the Internet, and the fact that I get to do this elsewhere is very fulfilling for me.
I managed to fit exercise back into my life and, most days, am pretty comfortable in my own skin. It took me thirty-three years, so it’s about dang time.
As I look forward to 2009 I have this feeling that it is going to be better. I do not say this in a prideful or arrogant way. I just feel like I am where I am supposed to be, doing what I am meant to be doing, walking down the path of my life in the right direction.
I am happy. I am content. I am also striving to grow. To be stronger, wiser, better.
How about you? What is this New Year sparking in you? I really, truly would love to hear it.
Happy New Year, folks!
Come on over to Work It! Mom. I tell you about my plans, will you tell me yours?
Seven Christmases ago, we found out that were were pregnant with our very first baby. This would be the first baby for Matthew’s parents, the first great-grandbaby for his grandparents. There was no end to the excitement and glee that we were all experiencing.
Six weeks later, all of that changed. Our baby died, along with the dream.
We waited the requisite full cycle before attempting to get pregnant again, though it pained me to do so. I wanted nothing more than to be pregnant, to carry my baby to term, to hold a newborn with silky soft skin and all-consuming squishiness.
We got pregnant again the very first month we tried. We opted this time to keep the news a secret until we had made it past the first trimester. Because we had lost our first baby early, our doctor sent us for an ultrasound at eleven weeks. I am pretty sure that I held my breath the entire ten minutes or so that the tech looked inside my body.
When she turned to me and asked if I wanted to see my baby, I smiled with eyes full of tears. And took a big, huge breath.
That following Christmas, I was large and in charge, and beyond uncomfortable. I was due on the 29th and thanks to all of the nachos (and Christmas baking) I had consumed, was borderline pre-eclampsia. If the baby did not come on its own on that Sunday, I would have been induced on the Monday.
You can read the details here which explain that on that Sunday, December 29, 2002, I gave birth to my firstborn baby.
A son.
I had always wanted to have a son first, so that he could take care of any future sister should we be able give him one.
This boy, Graham, was a blessing. IS a blessing. Since birth, he has proven himself to be something special. People around us see it too. He is smart, he is funny, he is quirky. He is awesome on so many levels.
He has had the usual issues that kids have as they are growing, and learning, and figuring out their voice in the world. However. He has been relatively easy. He was one of those “good babies” that you hear about and wonder if they really, truly, exist.
I am here to tell you that they do.
This past year has left me at a loss for words. This baby of mine is reading. Is writing.
He is cracking jokes, making witty comments, BLOWING MY MIND. This baby of mine is now a boy. A little man.
But he will always be my baby.
Happy Birthday, Graham.
There are not enough words on the planet to express how much I love you.
*Last year’s (equally, if not moreso) sappy birthday post
I wrote about our Christmas plans last week over at Work It! Mom, but here is the run-down. Our (not so) wee family of five attends Christmas Eve service (one of my annual favorites) at our church and opens one present on Christmas Eve (new jammies). We then open the rest of our presents on Christmas morning. Until last year, we would then drive ten minutes to Matthew’s parents’ house and do Christmas with the extended family.
His parents moved to the Coast last year, which means that the ten minute drive is now four hours. On a good day.
We decided to stick with our tradition. Open presents here on Christmas morning and then drive to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
On Christmas Eve, as we were finding seats in the service, my cell phone rang. It was my Dad.
He also lives at the Coast and is a bus driver. The snow was coming down in grand proportions. One of his colleagues had been out on the roads and had told him of many accidents and a few fatalities. He said we should think twice about driving down.
We arrived home and had another message from a friend at the Coast cautioning us about making the trip.
On Christmas morning, all went as planned. I made homemade cinnamon buns, the kids opened presents and then brought them downstairs to play with them.
Matthew and I sat at the computer reading road reports, looking at highway cams, trying to figure out what to do. We called a friend who had traveled the road the day before and he told us that in 4WD it was all fine.
We decided to take our 4Runner and spent the next hour (or so) packing our gear into the truck. We were off! The roads were far better than we had anticipated.
My friends from the Southern States are all thinking, “ARE YOU CRAZY?” Which, well, yes, but that is not the issue here. Those roads are considered good up here in Canada during the winter.
Besides. It was a sunny, clear day.
We arrived mid-afternoon. There were presents opened (Wiiiiiiiii!!! Wii Fit!!!!!!) and more) and then it was time for dinner. Before we knew it, kids were melting down and getting ready for bed. We realized that we had not done the requisite family photo and sought to remedy it before any of them crashed for the night.
Do you know what happens when you have six parents and two grandparents yelling/chanting/singing at you to “Look here! Say cheese! Smile!”
THIS:
This:
Also, this:
And maybe, this:
Oh, yeah. And this:
Sigh.
Us adults thought we had better get in there before the tears were flowing and tantrums were raging. This is the best one I got:
(Sorry, Jennifer. I only took three photos, and Daniel’s eyes were closed in every single one. It was bed time, after all.)
We knew there was a storm warning so we left mid-day on Boxing Day to return home. Before you give me what-for for making the return trip the next day, let me tell you something. I ended up sleeping with the boys on a double-sized inflatable mattress. I use the term “sleeping” quite loosely. I am so tired it’s stupid.
Most of the trip was fine. A few flurries and some high clouds. Then, at a point that would normally be an hour from home, we were hit with The Storm Of Whiteout.
Yeah. NOT COOL.
Funny conversation in the midst if this to break up the tension:
Graham (out of the blue): “So, how old is Jesus?”
Me (with sideways glance to Matthew): “Erm…thousands of years old?”
Matthew: “Yeah. But he doesn’t look a day over thirty-three.”
We drove at a snail’s pace and made it home nearly three hours later. Along the way we saw many accidents and emergency vehicles. And also, two body bags. To state that I am thankful that we arrived home safely would be an understatement of epic proportions.
It was a quick visit, yes, but it was good to see everyone. The driving part sucked donkey balls so I am thinking that next year we should do Christmas in July. It seems like the logical thing to do.
I hope you all had/are having a safe and happy holiday!
*Remember that movie? It is so pickin’ cold that I an thisclose to burning books over here.
I have a post up at Photo Bliss about how to make your photos look like Polaroids.
(Also: Happy Hannukah/Hanukah/Chanukah, Happy Holidays, May The Force Be With You, etcetera. Just have a good one, eh?)
Ove at Work It! Mom I’m asking how you decide who to spend the holidays with.
