This year I was not:
Thinking about getting pregnant, trying to get pregnant, waiting to find out if I were pregnant, counting the weeks waiting to see if the pregnancy would stick, sweating through months hoping the other shoe wouldn't drop, chopping through the post-partum fog and re-learning everything I thought I new about life.
Waiting and pondering and considering doing it again, or,
Doing it all again.
Those days are behind me now, behind us, my round numbered family of four. Baby-making requires a tap of the pause button. Career plans, what you what to do or be seem to get clouded by what you are and that thing you are doing.
This year had clarity. There would be no more dreaming, planning or gestating. I wrapped up those years with a pretty bow and placed them lovingly in the back of the closet, blowing them a kiss as I walked away.
Instead of thinking about what could be, I could really give my full attention to what was. For (my) real life.*
For Real Life is my almost five-year old's current and this year's most uttered and adorable phrase. In order to say it right it must be uttered as two words, as in: fa'real life.
