A traditional review highlighting the main events of the year would yield mostly -itises (tonsil, mast, blephr, gastroenter, etc.), which just isn't fun to read about. So I won't trouble you with those icky tales of discomfort and will instead just let you know where I am right now, which is somewhere I don't recall ever being before at any time in my adult life: healthy and content.
Olivia is an absolute, untempered joy. Six and a half suits her. Her school suits her. She loves her brothers; she shares with them and watches out for them. She writes "seekrets" in her diary and notes to her friends; she does gymnastics--badly--and enjoys every minute of it. Then there's Josh: a cross-eyed, temperamental, delightful guy of five who can't keep his energy contained and has found friends who share his exuberant sensibilities and precocious sense of humor; and while he may not always listen to us, he usually does when it counts--and he never holds discipline against us. And of course there's Dominic, a baby who reminds me of nothing so much as a 1930s cartoon: his exaggerated toddle, his six-toothed grin, his babbling and clapping and comical expressions. Now that (as of Saturday) he has started sleeping through the night, the last major item on my wish list has been crossed off.
Jeff is well and lovely as ever, always supportive and thoughtful. My father is still alive, if cantankerous. Work is beyond hectic and it's not precisely fun but it's not actively terrible and only rarely do I wake up in a panic. I have mostly accustomed myself to the aging process--though I do curse those awful gray twigs that pop up from my part--and I have some lovely life-long friends nearby, a luxury I haven't always enjoyed.
I am not wishing for anything, hurting for anything, filled with vague longing.
In short, it has been a good year. I am in a good place. I hope you are, too.