The year I birthed my surprise baby right before I turned 37. Coincidentally the year I thought, back in 2000, I’d have all my children in high school.
The year that we paid off medical bills like the Feds were coming after us if we didn’t. (Oh, wait.) Also coincidentally the year were were broke as junk, and both our cars broke and both our lawnmowers broke and our weedeaters broke and grass grew ten feet tall in places we didn’t even knew we had grass, and we were bedridden and busy and our property looked like a set from The Walking Dead.
The year our church went berzonkers and everything changed and everyone changed and I was oblivious to all of it, and when the dust settled, my friends were scattered off in different directions and I had a million questions with zero answers.
The year Mia became a teenager and the year Merrick became 9, and they both became the inseparable team of big kids looking after the little ones and I had children and babies overflowing out the windows and I made sandwiches morning noon and night.
The year Caleb’s little sister got married and he turned 40 and my family shoved 80 people in an RV and drove to Oklahoma to visit me.
The year Cheyenne came and nurtured my heart by being her hilarious beautiful self in my presence for an entire two weeks.
The year Caleb and I were the baddest team of parents we ever were.
The year a snake was in the house more than once.
The year all of the people we know blessed us with food and diapers and baby clothes and visits and we were so overwhelmed and grateful that we are still overwhelmed and grateful.