2015 sneaked up on us. Yes, the calendar gave us warning that 2014 was drawing to a close, but life was so busy that I had no time to “process” the fact that a new year was about to be upon us.
Then January 1, 2015, rolled around, and my 3 1/2-year-old bounced out of bed way too early with the words, “Mommy, Mommy, it’s a brand new year!” … followed quickly with the question, “What are we going to DO this year?”
In my sleep-deprived state, I wanted to mumble, “Try to survive.”
I mean, I have a twice-exceptional 6-year-old who alone is enough to keep two parents on their toes, an always-busy 3-year-old who’s desperately trying *not* to get lost in the shuffle, and a teething 15-month-old who’s into everything during his waking hours and still waking regularly to nurse through the nighttime hours. I’m exhausted. (Hence the seven months of no blogging …)
But my kids deserve more than “Survival Mode Mom.” My husband deserves more than “Survival Mode Wife.” And for that matter, I owe myself something more than a “survival mode” life.
So when my sweet, snugly girl asked what we were going to do this year, I pulled her into the bed beside me and sleepily told her, “We’re going to live, laugh, and love even more than we did in 2014.”
Thankfully, she’s a big picture kid. She was content to know that Mama had (or sounded like she had) a plan. She didn’t demand details … which was good, because at 0:dark thirty on New Year’s morning, I didn’t have details.
In the days that followed, however, I would formulate a plan.