It's been a year. Thanks, truly, for being part of it.

Thanks Facebook, but I'll pass on "It's been a great year. Thanks for being part of it".

This is the year I turned 40.

I'd like to blog about all the lessons I learned. Like this NY Times article people keep posting. (Side note - I disagree with much of it. Especially the part about soul mates).

I would like to write that this is the year I learned to love my wrinkles. To ignore the extra pounds around my middle that won't go away.

I'd like to write that this year, I learned to let go of my bitterness for those who weren't there for me in tough times. That I learned to focus only on my gratitude for those who were.

I'd like to write that this is the year that I learned that the constant nagging attention of a puppy taught me something about the universe, other than that maybe I don't like dogs.

I'd like to write that I was comforted by "God doesn't give us what we can't handle" or "what doesn't kill us makes us stronger". Both may be true, but it wasn't a comfort.

So I tried to write a anti-Facebook blog: "It's been a crappy year. Thanks for being part of it".  It has been a challenging year, and I am truly grateful for everyone who has been there for me.

But it hasn't only been a rotten year. It's a year that started perfectly, surrounded by family. It's a year in which I was astounded by the strength and resilience I saw around me and even surprised by my own once or twice as well. And while it's been a year of parenting moments that make me want to bang my head against the wall, it's also been a year of parenting moments that take my breath away as I watch my children become people in the world.

It's been a year. And I haven't learned anything.

But I'm trying to learn. I'm trying to learn that years aren't either great or terrible, that they are a series of moments. In the worst of times, those moments slow down in order to help us cope. During the darkest days of a family tragedy this year, when we weren't sure what we would do, I would turn to my sister and say - first, we are going to cook breakfast. Then, we are going to eat breakfast. During the bad times, the only way to cope is one moment at a time.

And I'm guessing that the trick is to try to do that during the good times too. And the in-between times. To stop, and realize this is one moment. One amazing moment.  One terrible moment. One mediocre, boring moment.

If that is really the trick and if I can really learn, then maybe, just maybe, I'll get to the point where I decide, "this is one moment, should I spend it looking for grey hairs? Or should I spend it opening a jar of my favorite jam, even though there are already two open jars in the fridge?" This morning, I did both. Scowled at the grey hairs and opened the sour cherry jam.

So that's 40. It's been a year. Thanks, truly, for being part of it.