JANUARY
Start the new year off by getting your period. Commence fretting about the fact that you're still not pregnant. Let it develop into full-blown panic. Demand spouse have more sex with you. Marvel at the speed with which this demand is met.
Build some bookshelves and finally unpack the boxes of books that have been haunting your living room for 8 months.
FEBRUARY
Go see a concert on your birthday. Make sure it's far enough away to warrant a sleepover without children.
Pray for snow. Have prayer answered.
Take a pregnancy test, sure that it will be negative. Feel shock when the digital readout is "PREGNANT." Feel total bolt of joy. Then commence fretting about how it probably won't stick. Or how it probably will. Either way, fret.
MARCH
Celebrate spring by getting a face full of gigantic, showy pimples.
APRIL
Announce your pregnancy to family and friends. Then announce it to the Internet. Bask in the warmth of well-wishes and happiness.
Go to California for Passover. Repeat basking. Say goodbye to a loved one there whom you might never see again. Cry when your son hugs her.
MAY
Against your better judgment, join Twitter. As predicted, become completely addicted within hours.
Enter the red zone of your son's terrible twos. Seriously wonder if it's you that is f*cking him up or the other way around.
Find out that you are carrying a girl. Pinch yourself. Pinch yourself again.
JUNE
Celebrate Father's day by conning your husband into building you a herb garden. And registering for Blogher.
Start writing haiku.
JULY
Get the call that your loved one has died. Comfort husband who's lost his second grandparent in a year.
Celebrate your wedding anniversary by going to the Baseball Hall of Fame.
Visit your Dad in Chicago. Swim in the lake of your childhood for the first time in years (literally, not metaphorically).
Go to a conference that empowers you, connects you with incredible people that you have only known via the written word, and generally makes you feel sparkly and alive. Feel amazed that it was all you thought it might be. To celebrate, bring your best maternity-crunking out at closing cocktail party.
AUGUST
Give heat and humidity the big, swollen middle-finger.
Have a living legend scare the bejesus out of your child. Attempt sly phone camera shot while toddler has you in a full-nelson.
Seriously start worrying about finding a name for your daughter. Catch yourself scanning spam sender names for ideas. Get completely hooked on Nymbler.com.
SEPTEMBER
Wake up in a cold sweat after terrible nightmare about your decrepit bathtub. Realize that there are exactly 3 tons of tasks that must be done before the baby comes. Start making mental list.
Call your mother and beg her to come to help before the baby is born. And after,too.
Have good friends that gently insist on throwing you a baby shower. And offer you pearls of wisdom.
OCTOBER
Laugh off all the nesting fever. You know the baby is going to be late. Roll over to get some more sleep. Feel a pop and a gush of liquid. Wake your husband with an expletive.
No time for epidural. Feel the undeniable urge to push. Also, feel the undeniable urge to jump out the window.
Hold your newborn daughter in your arms.
NOVEMBER
Thank your vague agnostic godhead for your family who have all taken shifts to help you with newborn and preschooler.
Start your career as a stage mother.
Celebrate Thanksgiving and son's third birthday at the same time. Wonder why you never thought of birthday pie before.
Honor NaBloPoMo pledge. Post on your blog every single stinking day of November. Take a moment on the 30th to marvel at your stupidity.
DECEMBER
Celebrate Hanukkah with delicious, oil-laden latkes.
Decide to host Christmas. Then a couple weeks before call family in a panic, realizing you can't possibly host Christmas. Family talks you off the edge, arrives, and helps you have a beautiful holiday.
Start moping around December 30th. Feel like another year has passed and you achieved nothing, once again. Read over blog archives and realize you're insane. Feel inspired to post your insight on the Internet, you freaky blogger, you.
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Happy New Year everybody! Hope you have a helluva 2008.
Happy New Year, Alana! You had a wonderful year...and I'm so glad we got to meet in Chicago. Think you'll make it to San Francisco this year?
Posted by: Assertagirl | January 03, 2008 at 08:38 AM
Dude, it's like we had EXACTLY the same year. Except my husband didn't put in an herb garden. Aaaaaand all that other stuff, either. Happy New Year!
Posted by: braine | January 03, 2008 at 09:55 AM
Don't you love blog archives?
Congrats on a good '07 (and a great post, ahem) and bottoms up to '08.
Posted by: supa | January 03, 2008 at 01:31 PM
This time next year I want to be able to say that 2008 was the best year in a long time. I hope that it comes true.
Posted by: anastasia beaverhausen | January 03, 2008 at 09:55 PM
alana-
have a great new year! and i covet your bookshelves. is that so wrong?
and, by the way, can you help a girl, this girl, figure out how to put pictures up on typepad? jeebus, what am i doing wrong???
help!
ugh.
Posted by: sarah | January 06, 2008 at 08:28 PM
Heh. Great summary. Cheers for an equally delicious '08.
Posted by: Scott | January 07, 2008 at 12:52 PM