When I thought about writing an end-of-the-year wrap-up post, this is the first thing that came to mind:
Oh my dear Lord do these boyz/men rock the SHIT out of a four-part harmony. I think I’m gonna jam out to this song as I actually write this post. I suggest you do the same. It’ll be real old-school, like we’re all back on the Internet in 1999 when every website had a sweet Midi song that came on automatically after you waited twenty minutes for the page to load and then got kicked off when your mom picked up the phone downstairs and disconnected your dial-up connection. Good times.
I’ve just now come to the conclusion that my year can pretty much be summed up via Boyz II Men songs. For example, because of this kind of thinking, I ended up spending most of 2011 pregnant:
The beginning of the year had me fighting morning sickness and regular-flu sickness at the same time. Being bent over the toilet = not an awesome way to spend three straight months of your life.
Then I hit my second trimester, and started feelin’ good again! Super good! Like, “OH MY SHIT TIME TO ROCK THE FUCK OUT Y’ALL!” good.
Then, finally, in August, our sweet Surrey was born. Although her creation was the result of two grown adults throwing several years of sex education knowledge out the window, she has made everything and everyone in our family better. We’re so thankful that we were so dumb.
Everything since August has basically been a blur. A blur of emotions, a blur of work, a blur of activities and holidays and chores and babies. But we’ve survived. We made it through four whole months as a family of five. It wasn’t always easy, and it honestly wasn’t always fun or happy, but we did it. We did it, and we continue doing it. So even though this is the end of that magical yet completely ridiculous era we’ll call The Year of Surrey, it’s definitely not the end of us. We’re only getting better and better at managing these kids.
Or we’re becoming less sensitive to all the crying. Probably a mix of both.
And so now we end our blogging year just like we ended every single junior high dance that I attended at Benjamin Franklin Junior High School: with the Boyz II-motherfucking-Men.