The year of living dangerously

Another year.

I am sitting on the recliner at home here on New Years Eve. David and S. are already in bed and I am sure to follow soon. But first I have to finish the latte I just made. Not decaf. I am a rebel.

I was going to skip the obligatory end of year post, but as I am relaxed as I ever will be, the thoughts kept invading my head. You see, 2010 was a very odd year for me. It was the first year in many that infertility didn’t rule my world. Well it did, in some ways, but there wasn’t a single month of drugs, injections, cycle calendars, appointments, medical bills, and dashed dreams.

Instead I met a wonderful therapist that helped me heal the open wounds. I invested more time in my family. I lost some weight.

But I had some down moments too. I gambled on a new job at work that I didn’t get (and may have committed career suicide in the process- jury still out on that). S. lost his job, then got a new one, then left THAT job and got another new one. I gained back the weight I lost. Every pound.

2010 was a year of change and upheaval. And ironically, the (almost) start of 2011 brings me back to a familiar place from years ago. It’s as if I lived this life only to come full circle back to the beginning… to the enlightened me.

I don’t have any resolutions this year. Sure, I will try to lose the weight AGAIN for the millionth time. I will try to be good to myself and others. I will try to live in the moment. I will try to not shoot myself in the foot so much.

And I will practice patience. Patience is something I will need in spades this year.

But most of all, I plan to make this a year of stepping out of the box. I’ve gotten quite comfy in the little padded room I made for myself up to this point.

2010 was the year of thinking inward. 2011 is the year to throw caution to the wind and dream a little. Take a risk. Succeed or fail. At least try.

I wish you all a Happy New Year.

Day 1: 364 to go…

Dear 2009,

You sucked big donkey balls.


Dear 2010,

I lost half a decade wallowing in disappointment, loss, and self-doubt. I refuse to make any further resolutions, other than I resolve to get up each morning, bathe, and put one foot in front of the other.

That’s all you get from me you Space Odyssey freak.

Regretfully in your presence,
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Go Fish!

So it’s only the second day of the new year, and it begins with two of us sick.

We’ve been pretty lucky lately, avoiding the sickies. S. even escaped his annual sinus infection (or so we thought). D. is his usual healthy self.

Then, the day before New Year’s eve, S. got really sick. It started off as sinus-related, and morphed into a coughing frenzy. So I spent New Year’s eve ringing it in (alone). Just me and Dick Clark (and that annoying Ryan Seacrest).

I was feeling a little odd, but stayed up until 1am anyway. What can I say? I just had to watch the B-list entertainment on TV.

I woke up yesterday feeling very tired, and woozy. Odd, since no alcohol passed my lips the evening before. By last evening, I was coughing, hacking, and sleepless. Illness #1 for 2009.

Today, sick. And since S. is back to work, I have the whole day to be sick and play with D.

Let’s see… so far we’ve conquered space and the martian population, played three games of Hungry Hungry Hippos, built a Lego masterpiece, played cards, and used a crane to save the firemen from the burning wreckage of a building.

And it’s only 11am.

Care to join me?

2008, you tease, you.

I hate writing this post, but feel compelled to.

You see, since I’ve started this blog, I’ve always taken the time to ramble on about how many dreams and hopes were dashed in the previous year.

Each year, I become a little more hardened. A little more hopeless, and a lot more bitter.

On the eve of the 2007 new year while reflecting on 2006, I talked about resolutions. Specifically, resolutions I won’t keep (it’s the pessimist in me). Yeah, that was far fetched. I actually have kept resolution #6. Yes, I did eventually take those seven jars of change to the bank, and with the $343 cash in hand, I bought (part of) a handbag…. thereby defaulting on resolution #1 (I will not buy as many handbags).

On the eve of the 2008 New Year, I bid adieu to 2007 in a decidedly snarky fashion. It was one of the worst years yet. Family medical turmoil, the death of a friend, the death of my dog AND my cat. Oh, and let’s not forget miscarriage #4, also known as the miscarriage of HELL. Read my archives for that one. You’ll need about a day of free time.

So, 2008, what can I say? Cruel is a word that comes to mind. 2008, you were like the bad boyfriend that plays head games. You made me psycho.

The pregnancy on my 40th birthday that seemed destined to succeed. And then you shit on me yet again, 2008. Thank you for that.

Then, the last attempt in August with my feeble old eggs. You made it seem like it was a dream IVF cycle, and WHOOPS! There goes the rug out from under me again.

You continue to disappoint, 2008.

Of course, 2008 wasn’t all bad. We three are here, present, and accounted for. My family is healthy. We still have jobs (well, today anyway… thanks GM).

I greet 2009 with mixed emotions.

2009, you have your work ahead of you. 2006, 2007, and 2008 failed to tow the line and now you are left holding the bag as it were.

Curiously, as the clock strikes twelve this evening, I will be kissing my honey as I have done every year. Usually, we hug and vow that THIS YEAR will be OUR YEAR.

But this year we have promised to make no expectations of you at all.

Now that the pressure is off 2009. you can rest easy for 365 days.

Yeah, I’m generous like that.