Looking over the blog in 2010 I mostly see dreamy love-baby posts, with a bit of this and that thrown in. So instead of linking to a list of posts I want to record what it is about this year that I think I'll remember in the years and decades to come. Maybe I'll come back and read it when J's ten and see if I was right.
Of course most of what I will remember is my daughter, and the many joys of living the first year of her life alongside her. She was baptized and lullabyed and photographed and comic-conned. She went from a wispy mohawk to a full head of hair, pending silk sheets to shore up the back part. She learned to crawl her own way, and to say my new favorite name - Mama.
But I will also remember this as the year that the many swirling thoughts I have about race in this country and my own racial identity began to integrate into something coherent. It's the year I really became a consultant and trainer, instead of someone who was training to be those things. It was the year that I began to get comfortable with all the changes that I flung myself headlong into in 2009 - school, motherhood, work of various sorts.
And, last but not least, this year I watched my husband discover what he was meant to do next. When we got married both of us knew that the chances of either of us winning in the lottery that is the music industry were slim to none. And that those chances weren't really why either of us played music. I have always known, on some level, where I was headed. But neither of us expected that Andrew would land in a career in the medical field, much less a job where he works with people who are at their very most vulnerable - victims of traumas and burns in the first days after their injuries. Helping them breathe and sometimes witnessing their last breaths. He is an amazing respiratory therapist. I know it because I've spent a year watching him live this vocation and fall in love with it. Next year is the one I'll look back on and remember his graduation. But this year is the year I watched, a little jealous and a lot amazed, as he discovered that helping people breathe, live, and sometimes die is just as good as a rock show, and his talent for doing it well is just as strong.
I have some ideas about what I want for 2011. They involve a good dose of the usual health-and-fitness, a little bit of increased financial discipline and a dash of even more intentional simple living. There are other plans in the works that aren't ready for public discussion just yet, but I'll be telling you all about it sometime in the next twelve months. I expect my J will get around to walking sometime soon, and continue to increase her vocabulary both signed and spoken.
As I type this Andrew is singing to J, her last lullaby of the year. We're staying in tonight - some good friends will show up a little later for games and food, and probably some champagne sometime right around midnight.