a year of a different color

cheers to great friends

last night i hosted a party for some old friends at my parents' house. people i'd known for 30 years, people i'd gone through high school with and some of their children—all talking, laughing, drinking and playing in the house where i grew up. the evening sort of captured everything i love about life these days. the comfort of lifelong friendships, the happiness that comes from knowing life goes on (my friend Kevin's little boy made me feel like someone had pressed a rewind button—little Aaron is exactly his dad, my pal from the next street over and owner of the coolest Star Wars toys, circa 1980.) and, of course, mini pigs in a blanket and a riotous round of Left, Right Center. it was a really nice way to close out 2010. 

the last 364 days have had their challenges and plenty of happy times—pretty much how life is supposed to go. yet, as i'm writing this, a two-pound, 15-inch long mini human being is scooching around in my midsection, reminding me that the next 365 will be anything but typical.

i took a look at the to-do list i wrote last January first and i think i had about a 75 percent success rate all year. not bad. (i'm proudest of the fact that i read four of the five classics i hoped to read.) considering all the changes that lay ahead, i'm going to dispense with the resolutions this time around. who needs that added pressure? my biggest hopes for the new year are simply that i stay healthy, give birth to a healthy baby, that our new little family navigates life as happily and peacefully as we can and that Andy Pettitte doesn't retire. (what? it's true.)

i hope all of you had enough wonderful moments over the last year to make 2010 one you want to remember and that 2011 will be filled with enough to make it unforgettable.

mbm

i should have been on the naughty list...

i really should have been, for not updating for so long. alas, i can safely say now that Christmas is over, if i was on the naughty list i can't imagine what the kids on the nice list found under their trees.


December has been the blur i expected it to be, though i did indeed enjoy it as i hoped i would. my team at work engaged in a full-on gingerbread people fashion show a couple weeks ago—you had to be there to fully comprehend it, but trust me when i say i don't think any other office had a holiday party like it. Michael and i went to Carnegie Hall last Tuesday to see Messiah, which was pretty amazing. on Thursday after work i went to see a screening of It's a Wonderful Life at the IFC downtown. it was the first time i think i watched the movie from start to finish and i couldn't have enjoyed it more.


my Christmas Eve involved two cab rides, a bus and a train. i visited with my Gram in the morning, drove with my parents to visit my Uncle Tim and Aunt Joanne, made a mad dash to Morristown to catch a train back to Penn Station, where i hopped in a cab to make it to Brooklyn in time for the annual Italian Christmas Eve feast. you'd think it'd be exhausting, especially for someone nearly six months pregnant, but my theory was: squeeze in as much family time as humanly possible. it's what the season's about, right? 


yesterday Michael went to work at eight in the morning; i cuddled on the couch and watched A Christmas Story one and a half times until it was time to meet up in the city for our drive to PA. i got behind the wheel to give my tired hubster a break and we listened to Christmas songs the whole, traffic-free ride. we were at my parents' by three o'clock, with plenty of time to relax, open a jillion presents and eat a bazillion calories' worth of food. 


and of course today has been all about the snow. Michael got on the road to work (poor guy) before the storm, which i was thankful for. and i've basically been a fixture on the couch all afternoon, watching football, drinking hot chocolate and recharging. (occasionally i've gotten up to take pictures of the blizzard with my incredible new camera, an unexpected but perfect gift from the hubster.) 


i'm off until January 4th, with lots of good things planned between now and then. so while i've failed miserably as a blogger the last few weeks, i'm feeling awful content otherwise. and if that's naughty—well, then i think nice is overrated. 


mbm

this is for you, dad

i love my dad more than i can say, but some things never change. approximately 16 years ago he wanted to know if my homework was done, how my Algebra test went (i pled the fifth), if i'd cleared the yard of my beagle's you-know-what. these days he wants to know if i'm planning to update my blog anytime soon. i appreciate the ardent interest more than i can say, but man—i would've liked to see him manage a crazy job, house-hunting, baby-growing and a blog simultaneously.

just kidding, dad. (i really wouldn't want to see that, considering he famously threatened suicide when we got stuck in traffic and missed an IMAX showing of Pearl Harbor way back when. that story never gets old.)

anyway, i've been consumed so far this month with balancing several projects at work, frantically scouring house listings (we're running out of time!) and still trying to enjoy the season. and just like that it's already December 8th.

my birthday—i turn 34 tomorrow—has sneaked up on me this year, in a way. part of it is that i can't get over that number. i certainly don't consider it a scary number—it's just surreal. when i really think about it, when i say it aloud, it doesn't sound right. i'm not saying i feel like i'm 24 (thank god i'm not anymore), but 34 just has such an adult sound to it. stupid thing for a pregnant woman to say, i know, but maybe some of you out there know what i mean.

for example, right now i'm wearing striped socks from Target that have holes in the heels. both of them have holes. my heels go clear through. i put them on this morning and in the back of my mind thought, 'are these something a mother-to-be should wear?' and then i put them on anyway. i watched A Charlie Brown Christmas last night and relished it the same way i did at age eight. i read The Velveteen Rabbit aloud last night to my belly and afterward part of me wanted to go fetch Bixby (my faithful and well-loved teddy bear) and give him a hug.

but i guess this is something a lot of people my age deal with—the vast divide between a mindset and a number. my great-grandmother used to say that she felt like a teenager until she looked in the mirror and saw her wrinkled face. not sure there was ever an occasion when she wasn't startled by her reflection. i think that will be me. i think it already is, in a way. my face still looks the way i imagine it should look, but every year i'm startled to find myself feeling not the least bit older. (in fact—side note—i found out today that a co-worker who started a couple months ago was slightly shocked to find out i was pregnant. she thought i was prime casting material for Teen Mom or perhaps Recent-Post-Grad-Mom because she thought i was about 10 years younger than i actually am. this either means i have great genes or i really need to start dressing more professionally at work, or perhaps stop cracking dirty jokes so often...)

anyway, i guess that's enough rambling for one night, my last as a thirty-three year old. at least i can't say i didn't accomplish anything in the last year. i learned how to be married, i was promoted at work and i'm well into the process of becoming a mama. wonder what my perspective will be a year from now...

mbm