Welcome to two thousand fourteen!

Yesterday, I was thinking back to my grade school days.  In the 4th grade, we had to make little booklets that depicted the major milestones in our lives.

Because… you know… by the 4th grade you’ve achieved so many of those.

Since I couldn’t dedicate a page in my booklet to things like GOT MY MASTER’S DEGREE and MARRIED THAT CUTE GUY WITH THE PRIVATE HELICOPTER, I had to write things like LEARNED TO WALK and LOST MY FRONT TEETH.

At the end of the booklet, we were supposed to write something about our future and illustrate it.

Being a ten-year-old who was stuffed plum full of wisdom, I drew myself flying in a spaceship, with my own, personal robot beside me.

I knew that by the year 2000, cars would become SO YESTERDAY.  We’d all be zipping around in little ships that were fueled by bricks of plutonium.  I was also sure that we’d be living in glass bubbles under the sea and high in the sky, and I was going to have my super-sweet, powder-blue moon boots with the rainbows on the side of them FOR! EVER!

I obviously nailed that one.

So here it is, 2014 already, and I don’t have an XB-500, demonstrator model robot named Rosie, like George and Jane had.

Of course, I didn’t name either of my boys Elroy, either.


Our New Year’s Eve began panning out exactly as I had anticipated.  There were flannel pajama bottoms for everyone (except the boy, who jetted off to a sleepover, because TEENAGE LIFESTYLE).  We had the TV warmed up, and we were very busy watching some show on the decade of the ’80s, which… you know… RIGHT UP MY ALLEY.  We learned how every teenage girl wanted to be Madonna (except for me, because I just wanted to look like either Heather Locklear or Meg Ryan).  And then!  Well, the show turned to the debut of the cell phone, which was nicknamed THE BRICK for a reason.  Hubs and I howled with laughter over everyone in their Izod and Calvin Klein shirts, holding a phone the size of a loaf of good French bread up to their ears and not getting any reception.

We’ve come quite a ways, clearly.

Except with replacing our cars with small spaceships in our garages.

In the middle of LOOK!  THE ANTENNA IS LONGER THAN MY ARM ON THAT PHONE!, our friends, Heather and Tyler, called and asked us if we wanted to meet them for Mexican food.

And THAT, people, trumped having leftover ham and broccoli casserole and queso, like we had originally planned, because we are so fancy on the New Year’s Eve.  There are some people in this world who can make me change out of my pajama bottoms and back into jeans, and Heather is one of them.  I even put on a fresh coat of lip gloss to disguise the fact that I had popcorn remnants stuck to my face.

We took Thing 2 to the restaurant in the middle of a snowstorm.  He got to sit right beside Heather and Tyler’s one-year-old, Vivian.

(If you know Vivi, don’t get any bright ideas, if y’all have little sons.  Hubs and I have already talked to her parents about gathering their oxen and donkeys and sheep, so that they can present their dowry to us.  We’re very interested in signing a marriage contract between Vivi and Thing 2 early.  She’s adorable… she has good manners in restaurants, even with a boy sitting beside her, shouting out, “Heh-wo!!!  Hi!!!  Heh-wo!!  Hi!!! “ in her face one hundred and nineteen times… we like her parents a lot… and she’s going to know Jesus.  Clearly, she’s perfect for us.)

So that was our big New Year’s Eve party.  We talked, and we laughed, and then we went our separate ways, because a baby’s bedtime does not wait for the party horns on New Year’s Eve.

When we got back home, we picked up where we’d left off with the pajama bottoms and the sitcoms on the iPad.

I’m pretty sure I fell asleep before 10:30, and Hubs assured me the following morning that I had slept clear through the neighbors’ fireworks display at midnight.

Thing 2 got up at 4:50 (!!!!!) on New Year’s Day, just to wish me a happy 2014.

Bless his heart.

And I’m quite proud of the fact that THIS is what our entire New Year’s Day looked like, from 4:50 in the morning until I went to bed at 10:00 last night:

IMG_1278 IMG_1280 IMG_1282Eventually, Thing 2 did get out of the mammoth-sized, Sherpa bean bag, so that he could run around our house, causing mayhem and mischief.  Eventually, the boy did come back home to us.

But Hubs and I?  Neither one of us even showered yesterday.  We wore pajamas all day long.  We migrated from this sofa to that comfy chair to the bean bag.  I read a book.  Hubs took a nap.  We cooked scrambled eggs for dinner, and then we made toast, because we decided our main dish needed a side.

Which is not how I envisioned 2014 being when I was ten years old.  I really thought we’d fly across town to the glass-encased restaurant and swallow capsules the flavor of beef stew, which would provide us with all the nutrients we needed.  Plus?  Well… When I was ten, I was pretty convinced that I would drink champagne out of fancy flutes every single New Year’s Eve when I was a grown-up who had a bra and wore mascara.

Nailed that one, too.

But, do you know what?

I’m kind of glad yesterday worked out like it did.


… it was perfect.

Happy New Year’s, y’all.

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