2019–Whelp. It was an interesting year.
A warning: A novel length epic here.
Broke my right toe.
Then not 3 months later, my left toe. (In case you’re curious: second toe to the big toe, on both feet. And yes, bone scan is on the horizon like the bad ass I am.)
Got a piece published in High Five (children’s magazine.)
DID SO MANY DISHES.
Made a homemade costume for a little one with only a small amount of wine and cuss words involved.
Wrote a screenplay (It was terrible. Re-writing and submitting to a contest later this year, but hey, at least I’ve written one already to figure out what not to do.)
Watched too much TV.
Held down my lovely part-time job which I adore. (For real! Kids are the best, brightest version of people I know.)
Went to a writer’s conference.
Polished up some pieces and submitted to children’s magazines (3 rejections), wrote a children’s book, pitched to an agent (rejected) and re-wrote 3 children’s stories and outlined 4 screenplays.(Rejected? We’ll see!)
Started piano lessons.
Wrote a review on Disney’s re-vamped Aladdin. (TL;DR: It was great. Watch it for Jasmine’s song.)
Went on a lovely (and so needed) family retreat.
Doubted myself and my talents for a good 3-6 solid months.
(Creatives, and/or parents of creatives, I hear this is par for the course in a creative life, so son’t think this is yours alone like I did. Normal people: I’m sorry I’m so dramatic. Comes, I’m afraid, with the territory.)
DID SO MUCH PARENTING.
Mostly showed up for my family and friends.
Mostly showed up for myself.
Went to 10,001 small and big events for my kids, husband, loved ones. Forgot 80% of the special knit cap days, the pajama days, the days the teachers asked parents to send in permission slips, marshmallows, buttons, dry erase markers. Also, the wine and several dishes I was supposed to bring for other non-school events. I’m real lucky people like me anyways.
Vacationed in Colorado.
Went to soccer practices, church things for kids, Scouts, birthday parties, playdates, music lessons, and probably because of all of these things, therapy.
Forgot to book a family professional photo session.
Mostly showed up for my husband. Mostly. He has a very wide and loving grace and tender heart for me, as most times I’ve exhausted myself like a moron by the time we get to hang out.
Did at least 4-6 bad impressions of accents (co-workers and family: you’re the judge here), sang at least 10 rounds of Wheels On The Bus, Moana and Frozen. Tried many, many other more random things to keep my own kids’ and others, attention.
Tried (and failed) to host a block party.
Ate probably too much chocolate, potato chips and gummi bears. (In my defense: writing makes you crazy.)
Lead several children’s moments in church.
Decided at one point late, late this year, that I also needed to write (a self-published) book of essays. Coincidentally, my gray hair started kicking into high gear late in the year also.
Wrote a final essay for a column I’d written for 18 months. (Link here, if you’re interested: http://bit.ly/touchpoints19)
Had to put our dog down.
Wrote thank you letters (sent some six months late), wrapped birthday presents, cleaned baseboards, made a good series of empty threats about candy cut off forever while trying to get kids to smile for random pictures, wondered at the sky what in the world is my purpose.
Trimmed nails, tried an exhausting series of workouts (some worked, some didn’t) read a good number of books, tucked kids into bed numerous times, fell asleep with my glasses still on.
Lost keys, library books, that small dumb part to a McDonald’s toy thing that someone loved more than life, lost discipline, that matching sock, my need to eat vegetables for a solid month, and lost my patience. Many, many times.
Called my mom.
Loved hard, wide, long and ridiculously long-suffering. Ridiculously long-suffering for my own self (and antics) and the mini me walking around in full tween mode.
Cleaned up other people’s messes. Seemingly in a continuous loop.
Went to movies, laughed with my mouth wide open, clenched my jaw in frustration and pouts, was a bad loser at card games and at one spectacular shining moment, ate a piece of chocolate in the bathroom. This had to be after some sort of rejection listed above.
Mostly, just tried to do my very best and not give up.
You? What did you accomplish/fail at/do this year?
And yes, rounds and rounds of dishes, baking, cooking, rocking babies, splitting up fights between toddlers, cleaning, parenting, pitching deals at work, negotiating salary, going to meetings that should have been an email, reading, working out, crying into your oatmeal, etc all count.