My year in review.

Although Facebook has kindly summed up my 2015 in a matter of a thirty second video, the year certainly didn’t feel like it went by that fast–at least at some moments it didn’t. Oy. I’m not posting my ‘year in review’ publicly on my page-why?-because if you’re my Facebook friend, there’s a good chance you’ve already seen every picture and video I’ve taken-unless you unfollowed me, and if so, rude! You’ve probably noticed my check-ins at restaurants documenting the two times I left the house without the kids. Remember? It was the posts with the big neon lights accompanied by alcoholic drinks. I never missed an opportunity to show social media, “LOOK! Look at us, Noel, being all adults and shit! We’re cool again!”  I will, however, take a little bit of time to recap the years events here.

As I said, during the course of 2015, some days time felt like it actually stopped. I mean there was one many mornings that too many whines and cries lead me to literally take the clock down and give it a few punches-‘is this damn thing working, cuz I’m pretty sure it’s been 7AM for like three freaking hours now! Sonofabitchin’clock!’ [cue the sobs on the kitchen floor. Mine. Not the kids.]

I was pregnant for the first half of the year with my little meatball, and [no]thanks to Burger King for being so damn delicious, I was forced to eat my body weight in Whoppers; in conclusion, 2015 brought me to my highest weight that I’ve ever been in my life. The plus size side to that? My reflection was kind, or disgusted, enough to sign me up at the gym later in the year, and I am back to my regularly scheduled workout: elliptical, free weights, and Chipotle as a reward for doing the first two things. Screw you, judgey reflection!

I went full-time stay at home mom in the Summer right before having Liam. My new job of raising now two kids gave me a ‘should’ve had a V8’ big smack of reality right upside the head. What was the one thing I learned in my six month stint in the Big House? This shit is hard. If society didn’t frown upon face tattoos so much, I would have certainly gotten teardrops etched onto my face by now. But instead of teardrops, mine would be suitcases to represent all the times I didn’t runaway from home in the middle of the night. The year of having two children saw much more tears, way less sleep, leaky boobs and sippy cups (for the love of all that is Holy, can someone please make a sippy cup that doesn’t leak!?) and way more time spent inside the house thanks to a car seat hating baby.

Please, Santa! I promise I was a good girl!

My daughter Ella turned two in March, which is odd because I’m pretty sure she’s turning 15 next year, what with her attitude and all. She has turned into quite the diva with a mind of her own. We already fight like cats and dogs at times, and I find myself left speechless at the sight of her crossed arms and perfectly executed side eye stare down. I remember like it was yesterday when the only words I would hear from her were “Ba! Da! Ma!” And, I also remember naively saying, ‘Aww, I can’t wait until she can talk.’ Well, some days I wish I could stuff that wish back into the genie lamp. Sheesh!

My marriage saw four years this past May. Since having kids, every anniversary that passes I find myself breathing a sigh of relief–‘we made it another year’–because sometimes, love just isn’t enough to keep a marriage afloat. Expenses, work, general life stress, wet towels on the floor, toilet seats never being put down, and sleep deprivation all have the powerful ability to create arguments that don’t matter, silent treatments instead of resolutions, heat of the moment saying things you don’t really mean instead of counting to ten. More often than not, we find ourselves on the opposite side of the couch, talking about the kids, finances, football, how annoying the neighbor is…anything really, other than us.

I started writing later in the year simply because one day I felt like I was about to explode. I was completely and utterly done with everything: the walls were caving in on me, and I didn’t want to be an adult anymore. No one except the kids were around at the time-I would have yelled at Noel, but he escaped my wrath by conveniently being at work-so my blog was born. It has been my ‘safe place’ to lean on, to share my thoughts and feelings. It brings me back to reality when I feel like I’m tripping on a bad batch of “special brownies”. No, I don’t really eat “special brownies” just using a metaphor, people.

Much like previous years and future years to come, my life isn’t going to be even close to perfect. Stress, heartaches, empty pockets, arguments with Noel and the kids, puke, poop, and pee-not just my own-will all continue to plague me on a daily basis for years to come. I get that. I accept that. I embrace that. 2015 has been a whirlwind for the Repiscak Pack, but we’ve had many good times, too.

Ella started “pre” preschool in September. I have seen her grow and learn more than I ever thought was possible in only a few short months. Liam completed our family in June and has gone from a tiny bump on a log to a belly laughing, touching and eating everything in sight, fast-crawling machine. He’s one of the most content babies; unless he’s hungry. In that case, you better get moving, no walking, I’m talking knees to chest, he doesn’t have time to wait and you will hear about it. Noel and I are working together on a more loving, understanding ground between us; taking our relationship off the sidelines in the game of life. Realizing that we can be both a spouse and a parent at the same time; it doesn’t have to be one or the other.

Well folks, that’s my 2015 year in review. Ups, downs, and sideways, I saw it all. With the new year right around the corner, a standard resolution is needed, right? Count me out on that. I mean, I guess I could make one like; go to the gym more, eat healthier, stop yelling, put the laundry away, etc., but then I truly feel I am setting myself up to not follow through. I’m what’s called a one weeker: Everyone’s all like, “new year, new me” and I’m all like, “new year, new me [for a week], and I’m done with this BS”.

I won’t pressure myself with a fake resolution this time around. Instead, my goals for the new year are simple and honest. To be less of a fighter, more of a lover, smile more in the face of chaos, put my phone down and read more than one page of a real paper book, not get pregnant, look better in my new yoga pants, not get so mad at Noels farts, and to be the best, perfectly imperfect wife, mommy, and me that I can be. And on days when I just can’t, I resolve to not runaway, rather, I will smile (and cry, but still through a smile) and I will be thankful for this life that I have.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! ❤

2015…also known as the year of being offended.