Reflecting and expecting: 2011 into 2012

*For those of you who read the title and think I am “expecting”, sorry to disappoint. I just like rhyming.

As I curl up on my mother-in-law’s couch, watching the snow fall in drifts, listening to the wind howl through the naked trees, I can’t help but wonder why I married someone from the Great White North rather than the Carribean. Instead of “treating myself” to expensive snow boots proven to keep my piggies so warm I can go sock less, I imagine spending that hard earned money on scuba lessons off the coast of Portugal or a kick-ass bathing suit.

Who am I kidding? Just the thought of scuba diving scares the crap out of me and we all know I only buy my bathing suits in one place…Target.

In any case, as my MIL likes to say, this treacherous, inclement weather has given me the opportunity to not only relax a bit, but to reflect on the past year and look forward to the year ahead.

In the past year I successfully completed my 11th year of teaching, gained an amazing co-teacher and one of the most hilarious, challenging, needy and loving group of kids to begin my 12th year.

2011 also brought the completion of my first year of wedded bliss. Despite the climate of his motherland (which we visited 3 times this year…it snowed twice. Once it was in April. Come on!), I think I’ll keep him.

We also had another big celebration this year; my hubby hit the big 5-0. What better way to celebrate 5 decades of life but by sacrificing a lamb? That’s right. In our Brooklyn backyard in the middle of November, we roasted a 50 pound lamb (a pound for each year) on a rented spit with 80 of our closest friends. I had never seen my husband so happy. Not even on our wedding day. There is a special connection between a huge chunk of meat, 20 cases of beer and a primal man that any woman can not deny. It was an affair to remember.

2011 brought me to visit my BFF in Virginia Beach twice, and brought her and her family to Brooklyn twice. Any less than four times a year and we go into withdrawal. On our August trip to VB my husband learned to surf from the infamous Psimas Psurf Pschool and I learned how to make uber-popular cake pops for Cam’s 2nd birthday. A successful and of course enjoyable trip all around.

When the Psimas clan came to NYC in November, a trip 5 years in the making, we enjoyed a very special Thanksgiving dinner like no other (much to the chagrin of my fam).

December started off with a bang….literally. After cracking his head on a pole while playing soccer and bleeding profusely, my husband decided he was fine to go to his 3 hour rehearsal and then ride his bike home. I obviously didn’t marry him for his intelligence. When he finally came home, still bruised and bloodied, he tried to soften the blow of telling me by first giving me flowers (yes, yes so sweet, I know, but I am a lucky gal because he does this often). Before showing me the damage, he tried (stress on the word tried) to calm me down by saying he wasn’t dizzy, lightheaded or nauseous. But when I saw the enormous gash in his skull with congealed, thick blood reminiscent of a ghoul from Michael Jackson’s “Thriller ” video, I was the one feeling dizzy, lightheaded and nauseous. I wasn’t sure what to do first, vomit or get him ice. But somewhere along the way,I passed out, smashing into the French doors, then the table until finally I was unconscious under the table (not dreaming).

We limped hand-in-hand to the ER, where nobody even asked us if it was a domestic dispute. Probably because they were too busy laughing at us. After 45 minutes, he had 5 stitches and was done. After 3 hours I still hadn’t seen a doctor. I ended up with a severe concussion( the 5th of my lifetime…another story for another day). I missed a week of work and, as if my brain is not damaged enough, I am still having trouble recalling, um….uh, oh, yes, words.

As 2011 comes to an end, I would like to make a few realistic resolutions for the coming year. While most people make resolutions to lose weight or work out more, I don’t plan to go that route. First off because I spent the majority of my life wanting to lose weight when I now realize I never really needed to. If anything I needed to do the opposite. Second of all, working out is not a choice for me. If I don’t want a knee replacement before the age of 35, I better move. So here it goes:

1. Write more. Ok fine, I say this every year, but this year I have a plan: project 52. First introduced to me by my multi-talented friend Karen, it is a blog for mommies to document the adventures (and misadventures) with their little ones. I am not a mommy (yet) but I thought this would be just the motivation I need to reach my goal.

2. Cook more. With the fabulous new magazine from my sister-in-law, I hope to create some delicious delights for all to enjoy. Stay tuned for my progress, and pics of successes and failures.

3. Learn French. Ok this one is for a means of survival. Each trip to this tundra means sitting in most social situations nodding and and smiling and looking cute ( which I am quite good at), but this gets tiresome. I’m getting a little better at understanding, but most of the time I haven’t a clue what the hell they are talking about. Are they discussing the deliciousness of the 8th type of meat we had this week? The debt ceiling? The spinach between my teeth? I NEED TO KNOW! Plus, when we have children, my husband plans to speak to them in French and that is one secret club I don’t want to be left out of.

4. Keep plans. People who know me are raising eyebrows or rolling their eyes but all I can do is try. I hate being unreliable or disappointing people, which I have done too much in the past. Sometimes it is unavoidable: sickness, migraines that feel like your head is in one of those vices your wood shop teacher told you not to touch, etc. But I will make my best effort, rain, shine, sleet or snow, like the USPS.

5. Stop plucking grey hairs. This sounds vain. I know it does and I am not afraid to admit it. But you need to know something about me; I have Peter Pan syndrome. I don’t want to grow up. I have never really wanted to grow up. Not me. It is why I went into a deep depression when I hit puberty. It is why I tried to keep my body looking like that of a 10-year-old boy for so long. And it is why I let my mother do things for me I don’t want to do( ie: return unwanted items at stores, make phone calls to insurance companies, get my pants hemmed). Don’t judge though…this co-dependence is one we are both fully aware of. That makes it better doesn’t it?

Anyway…the grey hairs. They are invading my head, eye brows, and my…other parts. While this is a natural condition and I shouldn’t be surprised at seeing these uninvited guests at age 34, accepting this is extremely challenging. When I see the unruly silver strands in the sea of dark brown, I gasp and feel violated. How dare these wirey, grotesque follicles intrude on my otherwise dark luxurious locks?! So when I notice these tricky troublemakers, I have no choice but to pluck them. Yes yes I know, once you pull one, eight more grow back. I don’t care. I’m more interested in the here and now. You should know something else about me, I’m a bit obsessive compulsive. Shocker, I know.

With all this said, I am going to try to decrease this activity. As ridiculous as it sounds, it might be the harder one on the list.

Ok, folks. There it is. A reflection and expectation for 2011 and 2012, respectively. I feel like a pretty lucky gal to have what I have in life; loving family and friends, a job I love, a creeky old house, and for the most part, good health. Wishing you all a happy, healthy new year full of love, happiness and no grey hairs!