2009 Picture Show.

Music by Grizzly Bear. I got the idea to do this from Dooce.

The goose done gotten fat.

Lordy, y'all: EXHAUSTION. We've finally finished Christmasing, though, and let me just tell you, we've done Christmas six different times in the past week, and I'm glad we're done.

Yesterday we drove to Tennessee to see Jason's mom's family, something I've done once before. It didn't go so swell the first time, or at least the drive home didn't, and this time I honestly thought, "Reed's four now; it'll be fine." And it really was mostly fine, but about two hours outside of Birmingham Reed suddenly started freaking out. He yelled and screamed and cried, mainly because he wanted to get out of his seat and sit in my lap. We kept explaining booster seats and seat belts and air bags and THE LAW and shit, trying to tell him all the reasons why he couldn't do that, to no avail. It sucked pretty bad, listening to my kid scream and watching him writhe and trying not to panic and freak out.

But we made it, and I remembered that all last week I kept telling myself, if I can just make it to Monday, I'll be okay. So here I am on Monday, and I am okay. Tonight our book club meets to discuss Travels In the Scriptorium by Paul Auster, and let me just tell you THAT SHIT IS WEIRD, so I think it'll be a good meeting.

Now, onward ho to 2010.

2009. 2010.

Okay y'all, 2009 is almost over. FUCK, it has been a hard year. Every year is a hard year, and I keep saying "I hope that this coming year is better, easier, happier, calmer" and CLEARLY I am jinxing us because it just keeps getting harder and crazier.

This year has been long. I lost my job, Kane and Jude stopped coming to see us, there were fights and drama, we lost our house and moved in with my mom, and things in general were just weird and creepy.



There were good times, though. There was much drinking, karaoking, dancing.



We continued on with Drunk Psychology, had lots of fun with it, even took it to New Orleans.



We went to Costa Rica and had so much fun WITH NO GODDAMN AIR CONDITIONING.



But there was beer, so it was okay.



We won that contest, the one called "Drive To Tennessee and Pay $175 For the Dog Who Farts More Than Any Other Dog In the Whole World!!!" Duque is awesome and we love him. But his farts stink. Bad.



I turned 30.



Jason turned 35.



Reed turned 4.



My mom turned... 27?



I got to photograph Guster, one of my favorite bands ever.



Kristi and Chris graduated from law school, passed the bar, and got married.



Reed was their cute-ass- if very ornery- ring bearer.



I made some new friends...



And spent time with some old ones...



Jason and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. The fact that we've managed to stay together, to stay in love, to keep respecting each other and keep wanting to be with each other when things have been as hard as they have on every front, is proof that if you work hard enough you can achieve anything in this world.



We got a one-eared kitten who lives in our Christmas tree.



And I managed to stick pretty closely to my resolution, to be more upfront about my feelings, what's going on in my head and heart. It hasn't always been easy, but I've tried to weigh the pros and cons in the situations and experiences in my life and bite the bullet and speak up when necessary.

Here's to hoping that I'm still around, both in the blogging world and in the world at large, at the end of 2010. This ride just keeps getting bumpier, but screw it, I've got beer.

Cleaning out my text messages.

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Sorry, Jesus, the inn is full.

So you know how we have five people living together in this house? And two dogs? And did you know that we have, like, 74 cats?

Well apparently God decided that we don't have quite enough pussy around here, and he had someone drop off a kitten in a cardboard box on the front steps of the library where my mom works. So OF COURSE my mom is like, We have a new cat! Woo-hoo! And I was all, Hello, I'm Scrooge, no more fucking cats in this house, we have 192, that's enough cats. So my mom quietly brings the cat home last night regardless of what any of us think about it.

And it's pretty fucking cute. And it's a tiny kitten, and it's all, Mew, mew, I'm so little! And it wants Duque to be its mama. So I'm coming over to the dark side.

And now, today, it's favorite place is sitting on my shoulders, purring and emitting little Darth Vader breaths on my shoulder. The force is strong with this one.



Welcome home, number 411.

Reed,

Today you are four. On this momentous occasion, all I can really think to say is, BEING A PARENT IS SO HARD. And this day means that I still have 14 more years of it to get through.



I love you so much that it makes it hard to say the following, but somehow I think I'll muddle through: HOLY JEEZ at those lungs you have. You've suddenly found yourself in a place in your life when it seems like a good idea to scream, writhe, and throw tantrums for an hour or so at a time, for terrible offenses done to you by your awful family such as opening the yogurt wrong, giving you a bath ever, or taking off your shoes before we try to put on your jeans.

Let me just reiterate: On Thanksgiving day, you got your pants wet so we had to change them, and you had an hour-and-a-half fit because I took your shoes off before I put the clean jeans on. Because taking the shoes off makes them get "all sprinkley". And I tried every thing I knew to appease you; I offered to put the shoes back on before putting the jeans on, to change your socks, to clean out the shoes (whatever that means), to give you a gold monkey, and to put on different shoes. You made it incredibly clear that the only thing you wanted, the ONLY acceptable option at that time, was to never have taken the shoes off in the first place.



Honestly I don't know what in hell you're talking about half the time, but as long as you're not yelling, I sure do like to listen. Recently you asked if I got "that" from across the street. I had no idea what "that" was, and I was too afraid to ask because I knew it might displease you for me not to know, so I flew by the seat of my pants and said "No, Kristi gave it to you." And you were absolutely enlightened and satisfied with my answer, so much so that you then wanted to know if she also has "Wall-E ones". I told you I don't know, but I'll sure ask.

Before I forget- Kristi, do you have Wall-E ones?

Anyways, Reed, you are testing every limit I got to the point where I think, I will never be the same, some of these things will never go back to the way they once were, and it's not a bad thing, only a weird thing. Honestly I can't describe how weird it is to be a parent, to have known you when you were a squiggly baby, and then a tottering toddler, and now a little boy.



One day you were running through the house making car noises, and I suddenly looked at Jason and said, "Oh, Christ, one day he'll be a teenager." Because that's part of this whole parenting thing for me: I frequently forget that all these periods, these moments in time, are only moments, are finite. I remember when you were a teeny baby, and I was so tired, and I was telling Ma that I wasn't sure if I'd make it. She said, "Just remember that none of this is forever. It only lasts a little while." I have since passed that little jewel on to most of the pregnant women I've known and some of the non-pregnant women who talk about having kids one day because, for me, it was so easy to think, Okay, here it is, this is the rest of my life, this sleeping for an hour or two at a time and always feeling sweaty and scared and anxious and nauseated and wrong and unsure.



Point is, I remind myself of that fact all the time, that this won't last long, that before I know it you'll be all grown and I'll be going, Wait, where did my time go with my baby? Because I already listen to you sing songs and describe movies and shows and watch you draw pictures and think, Where did my time go with my baby? Thank the good Lord that, right now, you'll still kiss and hug me, even in front of "your children" at the daycare. And a couple of months ago I spied you holding two stuffed dogs up and pressing their mouths together, making kissing noises. HA. Sometimes you're sweet as pie.

For at least a little longer, I'm going to keep thinking of you as my sweet baby, even though I know you're not a baby any more. Because even if they're few and far between, I still get moments where you snuggle in my lap, or kiss my cheek, or tell me you missed me, or stroke my hair, just because you feel like it.



I love you,

Mom

Come see me!

I'm in the Bottletree Craft Bazaar this year, and you should come down and see my jewelry, along with all the other gorgeous stuff here! I'm in the Avondale Bricks building on 41st street south and 2nd avenue.

Sorry; not much coming to the surface to put down these days. Things have been kind of muddling together, days and nights and weekdays and weekends. Thanksgiving was good, Jason's birthday was good, our anniversary was good, taking some bridal portraits was good. Now it's on to Reed's birthday, a wedding we're photographing, Christmas, and New Year's.

I've applied for some jobs but haven't gotten any phone calls. So for right now, just keeping on.