For the last two years, I have done year-end recaps. I like traditions, so here you go.

January – It took me 11 days into the new year before I got my mind right.

February – St. Valentine’s Day Catholic Cliff Notes taught my readers so much. And by so much, I mean nothing at all.

March – My little boy got to meet his favorite big star when Ree came to town.

April – I came out of the vegan closet then I went to the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop in Dayton and left with cheeks that were cramped and sore from laughing so much. We also said goodbye to our sweet dog, Blue and my husband fixed the microwave.

May – I responded to the numerous people who ask me for blogging advice. It’s cute how they think I know what I’m doing! And, I can’t forget the milestone my son hit.

June – I traveled to Seattle for BlogHer Food and I looked back at the days when my kids loved each other.

July – Things were exposed. I’ll leave it at that.

August – I got addicted to a new app and took a trip to NYC for BlogHer ’12.

September – We found out what my son would say if his dad died.

October – I rambled, and I reflected.

November – I attempted to blog every day, but failed. We lost my cousin and that was really the only thing that mattered.

December – I ended the year like I started it, by getting my mind right.

Bring it, 2013. I’m ready for you.

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Although my family has been through their fair share of trials and tribulations, we are truly blessed for so many reasons, except for the medical bills part. Those really chap my hide.

Our tree, with a bubble wrap skirt.

In the true spirit of Christmas, I would like to hand out gifts today to some of the people who have had a hand in making my life a pretty darn good one. These aren’t real gifts in the sense that you can hold them in your hand, because those cost money. My son has a cardiac echo in a few weeks. You do the math.

Speaking of my son, I’ll start with him:

I give you the sped-up process of medical technology, so you won’t need open heart surgery and they can fix your valve with a catheter. I’m also throwing in an endless game of chess, a couple of friends, better hearing, and less anxiety. I’m sorry about that last one. You get it naturally.

To my friend whose husband walked out on her: I give you your 20 years back. You can keep your son, though. So, bonus!

To my father-in-law and my step-mother: You and your grandson and your whacky hearts! I give you all error-free tickers.

To my sisters: No pain anywhere in your bodies, peace, strength, and improved tech skills (it had to be said).

To my husband: Less stress. Okay, this gift is really for me. Think of it like the candy I put in your stocking that I eat the day after Christmas. It appears to be for you, but it’s really mine.

To my daughter: Many more good books to read, non-raging teen hormones (another one for me!) and I’m even going to throw in a pair of UGG boots. You’re welcome.

To my friend struggling with her faith: A homily that speaks to you, hymns that speak to you, and the warmth that I feel when I’m sitting in church. Well, that last part is because they keep the heat on BOILING, but you get the idea.

To my friend and co-worker, Denise: You get a month with your grandson, Johnny Mac Pippin.

To my friend Ree: I give you half the goodness that you have brought to my family. Only half, because the whole is JUST. TOO. MUCH.

To our new friend in Key West, Toni: I give you visitors with sweet memories of your father and guests who don’t blame you for cloudy days.

To my friend and co-worker, Melisa: Because you’re Jewish, I won’t give you a Christmas present. Instead, you get the birthday present that I never sent! Also, I’m probably going to throw in a extra spreadsheet to work on. I’m a giver like that.

To the wonderful readers who visit my little spot on the internet: I give you no tragedies, healthy families, an endless supply of Corona Light (oops, sorry…that’s for me), and a stellar 2013.

Merry Christmas!

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My husband is cleaning the bathrooms right now. I am preparing to go upstairs and open all of the windows so I can get away from the bleach he has sprayed on the surface of everything. My nostril hairs are burning.

It was one of the things I loved about him when we first lived together; his Naval training had taught him how to clean a mean bathroom.

Of course, while I was a SAHM that was (mostly) my duty and the whole house was a lot cleaner back in those days. I remember picking up every toy after the kids went to bed. I can’t even fathom that I had that much time on my hands.

Now I work a lot and my husband works a lot, and our kids are involved in all kinds of activities, and we are involved in all kinds of activities. My house is rarely, if ever, clean.

So, in addition to the massive amount of yardwork he does throughout the year, my husband chips in with the housework (and laundry) sometimes too. As awesome as it is to have a well-scrubbed kitchen floor, it is hard for me to let the housework go. I feel like it’s still my job.

But, it isn’t. It’s our job now. And, I will try not to feel guilty, or criticize, because he is doing it.

Just don’t tell him I took all the towels off the bathroom shelf and refolded them.

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I missed posting yesterday, but I spent over 12 hours of my weekend doing volunteer work for three different committees and/or organizations. Unless you left food on your front porch to be picked up, needed food delivered, or are a special needs kid, I didn’t have time to get to you. Now you should count your blessings.

My husband and I got into an argument tonight. About stuffing. Then we went grocery shopping together, because nothing makes an argument better than going to a crowded store a few days before Thanksgiving and buying the stuffing ingredients over which you just fought.

We have relatives coming in town this weekend, which means I’ve been busy moving boxes and random junk from one room to our bedroom and wishing that I had time to repaint the house from top to bottom. Also, refinish some tables. And floors.

My daughter is a Science Lab assistant at her school and they had to bury a dead fish the other day. She and some other kids sang “Amazing Grace” over the grave.

We toured our daughter’s future high school yesterday. Gulp.

Then I ate so many tortilla chips that my lips felt like I went swimming in the Dead Sea.

I pulled my left glute muscle doing rear step lunges. The exercise looked like this, though I DON’T look like this. But, I did have a 30 lb. dumbbell, so clearly she needs to work out more.

From About.com Exercise

My rear step lunge looks impressive, doesn’t it? It wasn’t. It mostly involved me saying, “Ow!” and holding my left butt cheek a lot. You’re welcome.

A friend and I started a “world tour” of beers at a local bar. On Friday, we visited France, Belgium, and Brooklyn, then I headed to Mexico and she went to Canada. I hate to say that the worst of the lot came from Brooklyn, but I will. Because it did. What’s up with that, Brooklyn? You need to represent!

And now I’m pretty sure you would all like me to go back to volunteering.

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