There are three primary reasons why I have kept this blog active for more than 12 years. First, I created it so our birth families could watch the boys grow up. I started a website when Jeremy was two, and though it’s morphed over time and changed locations, I’ve been faithful to update it with pictures and stories.
Second, our family members and friends live far and wide, and while social media fills a lot of gaps for all of us, not everyone is online. (Hi Great-Grandpa!)
Finally, and most importantly to me, this blog serves as a scrapbook of our lives. As a photographer and storyteller, this medium fulfills a cathartic need to document certain events and put them in some sort of order.
As I look back on 2017, the high points are noticeable. They practically scream at me. The year was mostly good, really good, so that the things I’d characterize as “bad” are simple to identify: no one dropped a million dollars in my lap and I didn’t score a book deal. That’s really all I’m missing.
Signs of Life in February
The year got off to a rough start for our country, and my task as a mother and citizen was to calm down and refocus. I wrote a heartfelt piece about not losing our minds as our country experienced a transfer of power, and then I spent all of February looking for things that encouraged and inspired me. I called it the Signs of Life series, a phrase pulled from an old Steven Curtis Chapman song I used to listen to as a teen.
Some days were easy. Signs of Life were everywhere. Other days were less so. Sometimes it was just, “I’m alive and I’m healthy,” which is no small feat. The result of February’s focus was the realization that I spend a lot of time looking at the negative and it has a large, looming effect on my everyday life. However, if I step back and scan the horizon for goodness, I’ll find it.
Jacob and Owen in June
In June my sister and her husband went overseas on a trip, which meant I got to keep my nephews for a whole week. (The only thing that gave me pause was the grocery budget! How would I keep these four boys fed?) I couldn’t wait to have them here, and just as I hoped, the time we spent together was perfect.
We took those Chicago boys and went full Tennessee. Bouldering, race car driving, eating the best food, and lots of it. Swimming in the river and playing cards at night. All of it. More of it. Every day.
Destin in May
At the end of the school year we high-tailed it out of town to get in a beach trip before the rest of the country. (Perks of homeschooling!) We chose Destin because our boys hadn’t yet seen the Gulf of Mexico, so their experiences with the beach and ocean were always whatever we found on the eastern coast. Jeremy in particular couldn’t get there fast enough. He’s our beach bum, ocean-loving, wanna-be Florida resident. As soon as we pulled up to the Gulf, he was done. How soon could we move?
If he wasn’t in the water…
…he was looking in the water.
The boys went parasailing for the first time too.
It was our most relaxing beach trip to date, and Jeremy has been begging us to go back ever since.
The Solar Eclipse in August
Since our house was positioned in the path of totality, we had an impromptu eclipse party!
Friends came in from out of town, across town, and up the street to watch the solar eclipse. With plenty of water and pizza to keep sweaty kids hydrated and energized, we spent the afternoon hanging out and watching the sky turn weird. It was the best!
Iceland in November
Last, but certainly not least, is our incredible and bizarre trip to Iceland. We walked into 2017 with no thoughts of international travel. We went into the summer with no thoughts of international travel. Heck, we walked into September with no thoughts of international travel! But life is strange that way. Sometimes opportunities come around, and if you take a little courage, you realize that saying yes is the only possible answer.
We spent the last bit of November and the first day of December exploring the southwestern parts of Iceland. It was a dream.
As wonderful as 2017 was for our family, the irony is that we are limping into 2018 a handful of pathetic souls. On the road home from our Christmas in Chicago and Wisconsin, I fell sick, then so did Chuck, and finally Jeremy. Two bouts of flu and a bacterial infection do not make for a restful winter break.
Today is the first day since Tuesday night that I’ve felt human. I am coughing and weak, but I can walk across a room without crying. Though I feel robbed of a week of productivity, I will effort to overlook my messy house, unfinished work, and those cabinets and closets I wanted to sort out. Better to rest than to relapse, right? For the first time in five days, no one has a fever, just in time for New Year’s Eve.
Speaking of New Year’s Eve, there will be no hugs and kisses at midnight, I can assure you. We’ll just wave at each other from across the room and offer a thumbs up in solidarity.
It was a good year.