I hope 2012 is the same, but different...with fewer decisions.

Yesterday, in the car, amid a blustery snow storm, I happily reminded Kevin that he made it through the whole month of December without having to scrape the driveway.

And while my skill set extends beyond pointing out the obvious, I was very happy for Kevin and this small, albeit noteworthy, accomplishment.

You might think he joined me in this celebration. Popped a bottle of champagne. Toasted mother nature. Oh no. Because according to Kevin, this just means winter will extend into April and he will still have to scrape the driveway for three full months.

Maybe four.

It was here I lamented the fact that a small box filled with puppies wasn't close by so he could drive over them.

I considered writing a 2011 wrap up post.

In some ways 2011 was like that conversation.

Excited in one breath and harsh in another.

It was the year for decision making. Lots of it. And then some. And then some more.

...the year my ability to shower or go to the bathroom alone officially ended.

...the year little sister finished 23 seconds ahead of me in a road race.

...the year I held my breath for a smile, roll, crawl, walk, hugs and kisses.

...the year I said this prayer, alot:

...the year I blew out my back on Christmas and didn't tell anyone. The upside: no one knows you threw out your back getting out of a giant inflatable toy meant for a two year old. The downside: no one knows you're in excruciating pain.

...the year I decided older sister needs this, because you can't put a price on awesome:

...the year I learned that anything over 4 hours of sleep is just plain gluttonous. 

...the year Kevin said and did the most amazing thing. Ever.

...the year little sister would cancel on spinning class more than she would show up for it, because she.is.a.CHUMP.

...the year I became intimately acquainted with the waiting room at the E.R.

...the year I learned that when your husband asks you if this guy is good looking, you say "no" or "hell no" or "nowhere near as good looking as you, sweetie" (Um, your welcome):

...the year the same person gave me a donut maker and a scale for Christmas.

...the year I learned the immense joy of motherhood and the debilitating fear that accompanies it.

It was also the year my little household of three (five if you count grouchy and dum dum) became a family.