To say that 2009 was a tough year would be inaccurate.  Not a tough year, but not so easy, either.

The past 365 days have brought on so much laughter and tears (happy and sad) that I postulate that I have grown up all over again.  I am raising a child, and every day is an improvisation.

I look forward to trying some new things in 2010.  I want to read some fiction, watch some documentaries, cook a little more.  I wish to throw a little more caution to the wind.  Chillax a little more.  Or maybe chillax a lot.


I look into my baby’s eyes after he fiddles with the doorknob of his bedroom.  On his tiptoes, he cannot yet get out without my assistance.  He glances up at me, wondering if I will open the door and let him run free into the living room.  I shake my head ‘no’ in reply, then ask him, “Would you like to read a book?”  He nods.  He chooses Hands, Hands, Fingers, Thumb by Dr. Seuss.  Again.  He sits on my lap and we read together.  His hair smells clean and the house is quiet, and I feel that immense love that people talk about.


I feel better already.  I feel that life has shed some wisdom on my tiny head.  I feel warm and fuzzy instead of angry.  I couldn’t tell you in one sentence why.  Primarily, it has to do with my son reaching a new stage of toddlerhood.  He speaks more words, he communicates with me more.  He kisses and hugs me back.  He listens when I sing.  Perhaps that’s all I needed.