And then, on this New Year's Eve day, I decided to go down the old blog memory lane. I checked out how many posts I had written in 2012: 51. Wow...51. Not bad. And in 2013, I did a whopping 12. TWELVE.
I knew I'd been slacking, but good gravy, I had no idea how much.
So I guess that's one of my (thousands of) promises to myself for 2014...to write more and self-censure less. And honestly, why wait til 2014? No time like the present. So let's start rambling, shall we?
I'm excited for tonight. It's just the four of us. I remember pre-kids I'd feel this pressure about NYE, to do something awesome and fun and spectacular. And if I didn't get invited to a lot of parties, I felt like a loser. Now, it feels more like a relief because it's impossible to find a babysitter and it just means I have less people that I have to disappoint by telling them I can't make it. (Okay, honesty check: 90% of the time, that is true.10% of the time, I still feel like a loser.) The last few years, we've tried inviting people to hang out here with us, but no one was willing or available this year. So...tonight, we are four.
We are going to make our own pizzas and cocktails (virgins for the little roommates) and play board games and watch movies and let the kids stay up til midnight if they can...and try to stay up til midnight with them, if we can. (And by "we" I mean Chris. I am up past midnight every single evening of my life, but my dear husband stays up past 10:00pm approximately three times a year. Barely.) It may not be as cool as party hopping across the city, but ringing in the new year surrounded by the three people I adore most in this world ain't a bad way to pass the time. Besides, I've really never been cool anyway, even in my carefree single days. I've always preferred a quiet evening in to a frenetic evening out.
Chris is still sleeping right now, trying to rest away the last remnants of a cold that's had its claws in him for most of December. The girls are eating toast and discussing the merits of peracord bracelets and duct tape purses. (Is it duct tape or duck tape? Because I always thought duct, but they actually print duck on the tape we bought Emma, which has me so confused. As a spelling purist, these are the things that keep me up at night.)
We watched Miracle on 34th Street last night, and Emma remained unconvinced that the dude was the real Santa Claus, even after the movie ended. She said that getting someone a house and a Dad was something that "anyone" could do, and if he wanted to prove he was Santa Claus then he should have made the reindeer fly in court when the lawyer challenged him to, or done something truly magical like bring someone back from the dead. We discussed that just because Santa is magic, that doesn't mean he can do anything. That I have no doubt there have been children all across time who go to bed on Christmas Eve begging Santa to bring back someone they love and miss, but some things are out of Santa's power. Emma said, "I don't think it's out of his power. I just think he knows that it's something he shouldn't do, because if he made that one big change, then other changes would follow, changes that shouldn't happen, and it opens a door that can't be closed." I told her she just might be right about that. (Yes, my nine-year-old still believes in Santa. Fiercely. She believes in everything fiercely. Our own little Emma the Fierce.)
The girls have already moved on from talk of accessories. I just wandered into the family room and found them doing this:
I'm going to go join them in whatever new escapade they have now undoubtedly undertaken. More rambling in 2014! Happy New Year, everyone.
