I love the clean slate a new year brings. Out with the old, in with the new! While I’ve been making my goals and New Year’s Resolutions, I took time to update a few things on my blog.

→ My About page is new and improved – with pics!
→ My Links page (formerly titled “Linky Love”) more accurately reflects the blogs I’m currently following and not sporadically visiting. Yep, it’s a shorter list with less of those cute buttons that I love so much. I’m sure this will remain a work in progress as I discover cool new blogs.
→ I pared down my Flair section because, truth be told, I can’t possibly frequent and contribute to all of those lovely mom blogger communities. I’m grateful that each of them exist because support is essential but I’m limiting my links to reflect the ones I participate in (as much as possible).

In 2012 you can expect to see Friday Funnies continue, a recently added feature where I recap my week’s biggest laughs. Along with more frequent updates, this year you’ll find more book recommends because I like sharing good reads and you’ll get much more pics. We have an excellent camera and it’s time I learned how to upload pictures to my computer myself instead of relying on the technical savvy of my hubby. And after our baby girl is born in April there will be lots of cute baby photos!

If you have a blog you might want to check out Mom Blog Magazine’s blogging predictions about what will be trending in 2012.

Hope your year is off to a great start. Cheers!

The fact that we welcomed 2011 while huddled under blankets and with several space heaters on full blast left me thinking, “This must be a sign that this is going to be one tough year.” Not that I’m superstitious but boy did that premonition ever come true. Turns out, having our a/c unit go out during the holidays (which was the coldest part of winter and then it broke again in the hottest part of summer) was one of the easiest challenges my family faced last year. Most of those struggles I can’t write about because I’m simply not as candid as other bloggers and, more importantly, they are not mine alone to divulge. (Someday soon I hope I can because there are important lessons to share.)

None of that is to overshadow the best news of the year: that my husband and I are expecting our third child! How bizarre it is that our oldest child is a freshman in high school. Before I know it I’ll be sitting on the hard bleachers, my butt totally asleep, watching her get her diploma. Where does the time go?!?

Another year gone…

I never got into some of the biggest trends of the year, like planking or Angry Birds. Here’s what I will remember about 2011:

Best fiction book I read: The Way the Crow Flies

Best nonfiction book(s) I read: 3,096 Days in Captivity by Natascha Kampusch and Imperfect Justice: Prosecuting Casey Anthony by Jeff Ashton

Best movie: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

Best TV show: The Office (always) and seven years after the show ended I finally discovered Dead Like Me, which co-starred the exquisite Laura Harris. So sad that show had to end over creative differences.

Best reality TV show: Mob Wives
(I’d give the Best Reality TV Show Moment Award to Drita and Karen for their fight on the rooftop in the Season 1 finale. Holy crap, I thought someone was going over the edge!)

Best new song: “Love You Like a Love Song,” Selena Gomez & The Scene

Song I couldn’t get out of my head: “Mercy,” Duffy

Vacations: Rocky Point, Mexico (could have lived without the stomach flu though) and Disneyland in July

Best quote: “Reality hits you hard, bro” – George Lindell. (In fact, that pretty much describes this year for me.) I give the best quote runner-up to Madison for “none of your bunnies.”

Best thing I ate: Lucas’ Smashed Potatoes at Thanksgiving

Proudest moment: When it’s all said and done, I am the proudest of how my entire family bonded together when things got rough

2011 in a word: Trials!

Sad goodbyes: Borders, Harry Potter movies, Amy Winehouse and Steve Jobs

If I had 2011 to do over again: I would have blogged more, flossed more, and been more productive

What I am most looking forward to in 2012: The birth of my third child in April! Moving into a new house and kicking myself in the butt to meet some of my writing goals.

And in 2012 you can also find me each week on Today’s Mama.

Here’s to a happy, healthy new year!

I see this every year and I laugh every year.

Another annual Thanksgiving tradition for me is to wait until the last minute to go to the grocery store for the ingredients my husband needs to make his famous mashed potatoes (“Lucas’ Smashed Potatoes”). Why go early when I can play chicken with shoppers in the parking lot, fight for a decent space, juggle everything because there’s no more available carts, and wait in a long line? P.S. I did this twice today because I forgot the milk and bought half the needed heavy whipping cream.

But how can I complain while I’m snuggled on the couch watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, flipping through Black Friday ads, and sipping a mocha frappuccino? No need for me to be in the kitchen. My family does Turkey Day potluck style. All we are responsible for is the mashed potatoes and a dessert. I bought a pumpkin roll and some strawberry/vanilla/fruity cake thing that makes you gain weight just looking at it. But if I were really concerned about calories would I have gone to Starbucks?

Uh oh… it might be profane to utter the “c” word on a day like today. It’s for feasting gluttonously and forgetting dietary restrictions until it’s time to make New Year’s Resolutions. And most of all being thankful. Hope you and yours are enjoying a wonderful, safe holiday.

1.  He doesn’t hold it against you that you got him sick. He doesn’t do a quarter of the complaining that you do.

2.  He says to you, “You can go back to bed if you want to.”

3.  He takes care of the toddler when you get Benadrunk and are passed out on the couch for two hours. (The label says “marked drowsiness may occur” and also “marked excitability may occur.” You hoped for the latter and took it at noon.)

4.  While you are searching for Vicks Vapo Rub you knock some things over, making a loud crashing noise. He comes running to make sure you are okay.

5.  He smiles at you like you are a beauty queen, even though you are wearing your pajamas, haven’t brushed your teeth or hair, and are sitting next to tissues and a plastic grocery bag full of used ones. (I call it my Bag of Boogers. Yeah, gross.)

Being sick sucks. It’s easier when your husband is willing to hold down the fort so you veg out with your cozy blanket with sleeves. It’s not a Snuggie. It’s way better than a Snuggie. My husband bought it at Brookstone for me last Christmas and I think it is the best gift I ever got.

If all of this hasn’t been ooey gooey enough for you, maybe this music will do it. Cute song. Cuter video.

It is a rare moment when I am glad to have a telemarketer call me.

(In fact, I need a better word. What is rarer than rare? Freak? Unwonted? Preternatural?)

This telemarketer called my cell phone, which I had been unable to find anywhere. Two year-olds get their hands on expensive technology and hide it in the most unusual places. Luckily the sound of the ringing led me to my teenager’s dresser. Like I ever would have looked there.

Anyway, I would have called my cell phone with my home phone but we don’t have one of those anymore. Long story, but now we are experimenting with whether we need it or not since everyone in this house in their teenage years and up has their own cell. But on days like this I think we do need a land line. I kept thinking, what if there’s an emergency? I felt like I was back in the Dark Ages. Or at least the early 90s.

I’m glad to be back in communication with the world but now I have a different problem: a two year-old who doesn’t want to take his nap. In moments like this I need a little mood music:

I love oldies. Makes me think of the Five & Diner. Tuna melts, juke boxes, and waiters with those funny white hats. Good times.

My teenager is on a church retreat in Dana Point, CA for seven days and six nights – the longest she has ever been away from home. While she’s kayaking and taking surfing lessons, I knew I’d need a project to keep my mind from worrying and missing her. Covering the faded light yellow paint in her small bathroom with a fresh, pale peach color seemed like a great way to occupy my time… until I realized this project was a lot more work than I anticipated and my husband admitted he hates the color. Never mind that according to the experts at Behr the color is “Winthrop Peach” and not “Industrial Pink” as Lucas sees it, I’m re-doing the bathroom in the neutral and safe (read: boring) color “Vanilla Custard.”

Now I have a huge mess going that’s become a chore instead of a fun summer project. I’m looking for any distraction to get out of finishing the work. Since the Casey Anthony trial is televised I have a ready-made excuse. I confess: I catch what I can of the trial everyday and DVR every episode of Issues with Jane Valez-Mitchell and Nancy Grace.

I could debate the strengths of the prosecution and defense cases at length but I won’t. Suffice it to say, I think that reason and logic indicates Casey Anthony is guilty of killing her daughter but whether or not the state proves that beyond a reasonable doubt is for the jury to decide.

I understand people’s obsession with the case. It’s hard to fathom a child could die, whether by murder or accident, and the mother could continue living her life as if nothing happened and endlessly lie without compunction. What I can’t understand is how people can try to make a buck off the tragedy. The Caylee Anthony doll was unconscionable and since the trial began there has been Casey Anthony related items for sale on Craigslist. You can buy trial tickets, sell your used ticket, or get a parking pass near the courthouse. There are even VooDoo dolls for sale, although how that’s related to this case is beyond me. One ad is from a seller who promotes their television by showing photos of the Casey Anthony Trial in high-def.

Regardless of what Casey may or may not have done, no one should try to profit from someone else’s pain. I have nothing but compassion for George and Cindy Anthony. I’m sure they wish their biggest problem right now was missing their daughter away at camp and a half painted bathroom.

Last weekend we took the little man on his first trip to Rocky Point, Mexico.

A horrible case of gastroenteritis ripped its way through our family and we almost didn’t get to make our vacation. But a few doctor visits and a day and a half later, we took off for la playa armed with sunscreen and Pepto Bismol.

Why stay at home to be sick when you could be here instead?

A week ago I was eating fresh fish by the ocean…

Now it’s back to the dry heat of the Phoenix desert. Home is nice but this vacation definitely didn’t last long enough. Echo de menos la playa.

For years I never ventured to the left side of Toys R Us with all the boy toys. I steered my cart to the right where the Disney princess stuff could be found and almost everything was pink. Over the years I shopped on the right side for Easy Bake ovens, tea sets, a Strawberry Shortcake house, Polly Pockets, and an array of Barbie luxury items.

Since the birth of my son I’ve had to start navigating the unfamiliar territory of the left side of the store – Star Wars Lego sets, action figures, Tonka trucks, Hot Wheels, Nerf guns, and army men. Just yesterday I found myself shopping the left side of Toys R Us. But not for my son. My husband wanted a remote control helicopter. He started with a little one but quickly had to upgrade to this.

We women outgrow the need for tea parties with our dolls. Boys, on the other hand, keep their toys. They call them “collector’s items.” The older they get the bigger and more expensive their toys. (In fact, there’s got to be some mathematical equation where you take the value and size of a man’s toys and it equals his age.)

Here’s what I’m confused about: they say you grow old when you stop playing. So why do men have a shorter life expectancy than women?

A book is like a garden carried in the pocket. -Chinese proverb.

I recently posted about the quest for my personal Eat Pray Love experience. I immediately knew what I didn’t want. It was easy to cross eating off the list of potential cathartic and life-changing experiences I was searching for. I may still fit into a size 4 or 6 (depending on the brand) but I can still pinch an inch. The other day when I treated myself to a birthday pedi the lady asked me how far along I was. As in, she thought there must be a baby snuggled under my paunch.

(I know you want to know how that went down. I looked at her and said, “Not pregnant. I have an 18 month-old. I just need to lose the weight.” She apologized. Yes, she was embarrassed and so was I. I actually did still tip her a normal amount but I sure hope she’s learned her lesson.)

So, suffice it to say, I’m not thinking about how to eat more pasta. It struck me that there is a different kind of nourishment that I’ve been missing lately. Something I usually allow myself to indulge in sparingly because there’s never enough time in a day.

This thing I’m talking about is words. I love words. I’d go as far as to say that words nourish my soul and reading is like smelling a flower.

Shakespeare was the pink lily of my maudlin teenage years. Then I found the orchids Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Elizabeth George, and the Belladonnas King, Koontz, and Poe. Next there was V.C. Andrews, the moonflower, the lotus of Alice Adams, the petunia of F. Scott Fitzgerald, and the periwinkles Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. In my 20s I developed an enduring passion for the gentle violet of Anne Tyler and the red rose of e.e. cummings.

The books I have read are far greater than flat and lifeless words on a page. They become entwined with my history and present. My husband says he knew for sure he was in love with me the day he called on his way home from work to share the sunset with me and I immediately recited cummings’ poem from memory:

“who are you, little i

(five or six years old)
peering from some high

window;at the gold

of November sunset

(and feeling:that if day
has to become night

this is a beautiful way)

We wove Shakespeare’s words into our wedding vows. Lucas quoted Lucentio from The Taming of the Shrew: “I burn, I pine, I perish.” For my part, I began with Dr. Seuss (“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams”) and ended with Hamlet: “Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt that I love.”

And, when I encounter a bad driver, almost daily in Phoenix, I can’t help but recall the moment in “The Great Gatsby” where Nick and Jordan discuss her reckless driving. I can hear Nick asking her, “Suppose you meet someone just as careless as yourself?”

So, this was one answer in my self-discovery journey, percolating for years just under the surface, ready to reveal itself as soon as I was listening. I want to read. Not as in the hobby of reading a book or two a week. I want to read because it’s not just what I do, it’s part of who I am.

In my house we have a saying, “Our home is not always neat, but it is always happy.”

I have visited people’s homes with tidier garages than my living room. I know people whose windows are transparently streak-free like in a Windex commercial and they would never leave dirty dishes in the sink or use a bookshelf as a catch-all for change, mail, and keys. They can put their hands on anything in a matter of seconds, whether it’s scissors, Scotch tape, a book they want to loan you, or their high school yearbook.

I’m the kind of gal who has to look for her hairbrush and shoes many mornings. I’m learning not to compare myself to the Neat Nellys of this world.

And, with two big dogs – a German Shepard (Tatum) and a black lab (Jack) – and a parade of children walking through the house, we get stains on the carpet. If there is food left unattended anywhere Tatum and Jack can get it (including the garbage), they will eat it. If it disagrees with their stomach, there will be puke. Lots of it. On the carpet. Never conveniently on the tile where it can be mopped up. You will have to get on your knees and do the wet work.

They’re wrestling with a chew toy

There just never seems to be enough hours in the day to stay on top of all the housework. And I’ll be honest, I’m no June Cleaver. I hate household chores and when I do them I wear raggedy clothes and pull my hair in a ponytail. Forget heels and pearls.

My mother totally gets me. That’s why she added these jewels to my refrigerator magnet collection:

If you’re a Neat Nelly who never fears company will stop by unexpected and need to use the restroom, I’m happy for you.  But when you come to my house, please excuse my mess.