>A Look Back at 2008

>Well friends, another year has come and gone and today’s the day I like to take a look back at all that’s happened….

January began with a bang, as you all passionately weighed in on the tale of a mom at the YMCA, who refused to acknowledge that her son had a little anger management problem. I revealed the worst nightmare in my husband’s closet (which he hasn’t worn since, I’m proud to say). After that, I decided to run away from home for a couple of weeks (with the kids, which made the trip more Bert and Ernie than Thelma and Louise). Tons of Wild Adventures ensued. I returned home and wrote about a phenomenon I called Pushover Parenting, which plenty of you had something to say about.

February found my entire family squeezed into our guest bathroom as a tornado roared through the area. I celebrated our survival by taking Punky to the museum, where she created several works of art I couldn’t seem to get rid of. Bruiser made his first twinemy and Hubs brought out the now-infamous Zoobas (which he’s still wearing, unlike the coral pants). Gym Mom caused more problems, our beloved crappy-ass mall closed, Paris designers made “Mom” the look of the moment, and my stepdaughter decided to have her room painted by a graffiti artist. (Yeah. That so didn’t happen.)

In March, I looked at all my children and mourned the passage of time. I plotted the death of our electrician. Bruiser. Ate. Poo. And then we all almost died. Not from the poo, though. Then, Bruiser turned one. I sat through the hell known as Candyland a good 1,249 times. I wrote an open letter to a Fashionable Single Girl Who Spoiled My Dinner.

In April, I planned Punky’s birthday party and mourned the impossibility of hosting a child’s birthday party for under $200. Plenty of you had something to say about it. My darling Punky turned four and I revealed my own personal crack: consignment sales. I admitted the truth about parenting teens, rejoiced in my son’s croup, and wrote what’s become my most-viewed post of all time (AND got me a free ticket to BlogHer): The State of the Mommyblog. I got the doctor-approved stare of death after admitting Punky’s not enrolled in preschool, admitted that I don’t like my dog, and saved Bruiser from a near death experience. Yep. Not much happened in April.

In May, I liked my dog even less, after he bit a neighbor (who moved shortly thereafter- probably because of MY DOG). I attempted to make conversation with another mom and failed horribly. Bruiser killed my laptop. I wrote a heartfelt love letter to my husband. We all discussed how old is too old when it comes to breastfeeding. I talked about Brag Hags and then we all chatted about which form of birth control is best. Fun!

June was memorable mostly because I touched Ira Glass and watched the words “Suburban Turmoil” come out of his mouth. I heard he was in town recently, though, and he didn’t bother to call. Jerk. I had a hilarious e-mail exchange with a clueless PR rep and found the book no parent wants to find on my kitchen counter. Opened. I remembered why I never answer the phone when I don’t recognize the number by… answering the phone when I didn’t recognize the number. I wrote one of my favorite posts ever, about a certain Ghost Baby that I think most of you have had at one time or another. I left the Nashville Scene for the Louisville Eccentric Observer and Nashville City Paper. I faced a marriage crisis. I did the unthinkable and dressed to match my children (It was ALL MY MOTHER’S FAULT). And a few days later, I almost died. I have pictures to prove it.

In July, I shared with the world that I love my husband. A lawt. I fervently wished that my daughter will continue being a little, well, weird. I wrote more about that time I stared death in the face. I celebrated my Maggotversary. I hit my husband’s boss in the face with a cocktail straw. I wrote an open letter to a woman who made my freshman year a living hell, and really struck a nerve with some of you. I took spying on my stepdaughters maybe a little too far. And then I went to San Francisco for BlogHer, where I sat on Guy Kawasaki’s toilet and helped throw THE CheeesburgHer Party of the Year, I rounded out the month by issuing bizarre threats to my little Monkey Butt and realizing the true reason why my family is unable to help with pretty much any housework at all. The poor dears.

August began with an expose on how my husband did acting as Mr. Mom while I was in San Francisco. I got called out as a bad mom by an old lady in an ice cream shop. I raised the question of whether too many moms were on antidepressants and lots of you had something to say about it. I began homeschooling my daughter, and wrote about the flack I get for not putting her in preschool. Then I showed you one of the books on our homeschool reading list. Psyche! As for the older girls, school (finally) started and so did the MOMCATION! I got attacked by a piece of candy and finally learned how to text, much to the merriment of my stepdaughters. And I ran into an old high school friend and came to terms with the fact that, well, she’s just not that in to me (and she never did e-mail me, by the way). GAH.

In September, I raised some ire by wondering whether Sarah Palin’s family should have come before her run for office. I fended off the local Mommy Mafia, who never forgets a name… or a face. I went in search of a smile-back, with depressing results. I learned that I wasn’t the only one who has trouble with disposable toilet seat covers. We got into a spirited discussion over whether it’s okay for a married person to be Facebook friends with an ex. I caused an uproar with my irritation over redshirting. My preacher found my blog. And I told a scary story about how little other parents will do when it comes to getting their kids away from an adult acting in a sexually inappropriate manner.

By October, you could tell three soccer games a week were starting to wear on me as I grieved over becoming a soccer widow. A simple post about my son eating cookies became a debate between you guys over whether his hair was too long. I went to the Presidential Debate and was surprised to discover I sort of liked John McCain, at which point I was handed my hat by a bunch of angry readers. I held an impromptu and highly secret Wild Indian Day, and got busted. I wrote about a misguided birthday party policy some schools have adopted and pissed more people off. I got an IUD. I celebrated fall with lots and lots of pictures. I mulled over whether to homeschool Punky for her kindergarten year and people freaked. I wrote about the growing number of single moms getting artificially inseminated and talked with a local mom who’s doing just that for my column. And I took maybe some of the most adorable photos of my son EVER.

I started off November with a column about PIRCs: Parents Inappropriately Reliving Childhood. I took more pictures I’ll be crying nostalgic tears over for years to come. We exchanged our favorite Thanksgiving recipes. I got Cranial-Sacral Therapy, which was… weird. I wrote about the strange phenomenon of recipe hoarders, and got some of the most hilarious and entertaining comments ever. I realized that my little girl is very special indeed. I had a surprise run-in with Martina and wrote the sordid tale of My First Frenemy, in two parts. I went all Motrin Mom on your asses. McDonalds still hasn’t responded. I tested out the bones trend and wondered why Mornings aren’t an official, court-approved reason for divorce.

And that brings us to December, a month in which I wondered why so many parents are freaked out when their boys want to play with “girl toys” and reminded myself of what’s truly important in life. I tried (and failed) to imitate one of the hottest looks on the runway this season. I endured a Santa who forgot he was Santa and introduced you to the best Bad Santas I could find. I argued with Hubs and Christmas shopped for him at the same time! I gave the IUD a big FAIL and endured a very condescending nurse in the process. I got a bad case of Recessionitis. I spent the holidays taking care of sick babies, all because of one very annoying “friend.” And I rounded out the year creating a small firestorm of controversy over whether it’s okay if I call my son a Monkey Butt (really, some people are looking for ANYTHING to argue about.)

And that, in a nutshell, was 2008. Thank you all so much for being part of it.