I Hate To Leave You But I Really Must Say...

For the first time in almost ten years, I am not a nanny.

For the first time in over eight years, I'm not Julia and Lily's nanny.

And it's odd. Because it was more than a job- it was a welcomed lifestyle shift and endless sparks of creativity for writing and a flower [bubble] girl and a duo of best friends for my daughter and a family.

It all started with an infant named Julia and an endless flight delay during an East Coast summer storm. And a set of young parents all-too-willing to let an eager (and out of work) nanny hold their strawberry blonde baby gal. And a job interview the next afternoon, once they all realized they lived mere 'hoods from each other. And a hiring before the 23 year-old left their lovely home. Both sets of grandparents (and aunts and uncles and cousins) made the nanny feel like just another [valued] member of the family.

Before long, the little gal became an integral part of the nanny's weekly routine- and all of her best stories. Heck, even her friends' best stories. (There are very few friends from that time period without their own tales of Snow Cones or Smelling Candles At Pier 1.)

The little girl eventually started pre-school, but the parents were sweet enough to have another child to keep the nanny fully employed. (I'm sure there were other reasons as well, but it was still an awfully nice thing to do.) So along came Baby Lily, and things became twice as nice with The Big Girl and The Little Girl.

And when the nanny became engaged, the whole family celebrated with dinners out and copious wedding planning with The Big Girl whom, obviously, was a member of the wedding. The Little Girl celebrated in her own way.

And just to make things fun, the nanny decided to have her own little girl to add to the mix. The fam put out a portable crib in a guest room and stocked the house with baby necessities- because The Nanny not being their nanny was never a valid option. So then there was The Biggie, The Middle, and The Little Little. And shockingly, things were still seamlessly great. There were collages and day trips and story-writin' and incredible amounts of snacks (most of them corn dogs and/or Pink Frosters.)

But now there's a Big Move to London. And The Nanny and her kid[s] can't go. The Middle and The Little Little don't fully understand that there won't be afternoon-long Every Toy In The Room Fests punctuated by hiccup-inducing belly laughs. The Biggie and The Nanny, however, are all too aware that their projects will now have to be done long distance. But there's Skype. And phone calls and texts and picture messages and letters and carrier pigeons and good ol' fashioned visiting. And it'll be okay, because family is family even across oceans.

And I miss them already.

Y2k10! That seems more like a 'captcha' than a 'year.'

In honor of the impending new year- and in consideration of the wee babe in an aquarium bouncer by my knee- I shall jam out a brief review of the year that was '09:

January- We failed to buy a house. This was sad. I began taking Pilates lessons to combat the "extra ten pounds"- ha HA. (I would KILL for an extra ten pounds right now. Well, not exactly. Rather, I'd kill to only have ten pounds to lose. If I had to lose the baby weight on top of an extra ten pounds, I might actually kill someone BECAUSE of it. Maybe we should forget the ten pounds altogether.)

February- I became pregnant! Although, since I didn't find out until it was almost MARCH, maybe we should place this sentence in next month's blurb. (This could explain why it was really, really difficult to lose the aforementioned never-to-be-mentioned again ten pounds.) Traveled to Boston for my nephew Cole's first birthday and came back to a week where the temp surged to 70 degrees, only to be immediately followed by -30. Thanks, Chi.

March- Realized I was pregnant. Had fun with that for awhile. Immediately changed plans from "Napa trip" to "San Francisco trip." (Less vineyard-pressure.) Threw the annual St. Patrick's Day Party O' Corned Beeves. Also may have let slip the fact that I was pregnant to fifteen of my closest friends. Here's a fun way to see if you've got a "social drinking" problem: if you fail to pour yourself a drink at your own party and people ask you every ten minutes WHY you're not drinking, you may have a social drinking problem.

April- Spent a goodly bit of this month gripping the couch, housing Italian ice, lemonade, tacos and onions, marathoning Law & Order and Harper's Island. But the beginning of the month? Oh my- I hugged Scott Bakula. Hi-fived Donald Bellisario. Won an international novella competition. Rode a bike across the Golden Gate Bridge and almost yuked over the side of the Alcatraz ferry. Best month of '09 (so far.)

May- Jaunted back to Massachusetts for a weekend of pretending I attended Harvard/Williams with Rachel/Emily (and Kate- woo, college!) Nothing like pretending to be an undergrad with two little dudes in tow and one obviously preggo twenty-something. Then, upon my return, P.J. and I purchased a house that may or may not have been haunted. Also celebrated our first anniversary! And they thought we'd never make it...(Who's been saying that?! Stop it.)

June- Turns out, it wasn't haunted. Just falling apart. But once we made the decision to replace the boiler, water heater, roof, appliances, light fixtures and five of the windows, WE WERE REALLY IN BUSINESS. Also, this was my birthday month. And the month where we saw the 20-week ultrasound of OUR CHILD kicking, flipping and opening a terribly wide mouth. We also went to Myrtle Beach with P.J.'s family, where I had the distinct pleasure of scaring a group of hoodlum teens into permanent celibacy. (What the heck was I thinking? A red-checkered tankini, while sweetly "country" on a toddler, looks positively "picnic table" on a pregnant adult.)

July- Bought a car! Signed the papers on the house! Had my parents come for a week to fix...everything...in the new house. Moved into the house with the help of Peej's dad. Realized that the new master bedroom had neither mastery nor a bed. (Or a window that would allow "air" to "circulate.") Cried.

August- Had a superbly fun baby shower in Pittsfield, MA, thrown by my Mom & sibs. Enjoyed floating in the pool like a beached whale and eating about thirty of my favorite dishes that my Mom kept placing in front of me. Back in Chi, built a bed in the sweltering heat of my "master" bedroom. Later that night went to the premiere of my one-act at 20% Theatre's 'Snapshots' Festival. (Yes, I HAVE been writing, thankyouverymuch. Practically every month at Chicago Dramatist's Instant Theatre, where I am allowed the exquisite joy of being the most pregnant woman in the room and thusly the recipient of the most "pity clapping." I care not.) Also, this was the month where a man FINALLY came and removed our wedged sectional sofa from the stairwell. With a saw! It took its rightful place in the living room, freeing up the stairwell for such important tasks as "allowing passage up the stairs."

September- Had a terrific Chicago baby shower, thrown by my Mom-in-law and attended by my Midwestern besties, my Mom and my big sis. Less awesomely, sat through four of the scariest childbirth classes known to [wo]man, due in no small part to the extremely graphic videos depicting the majesty of labor and delivery. And the entirely unnecessary bit on c-sections? NO, THANK YOU.

October- Had a c-section. Turned out to be a small price to pay to get to KEEP this glorious little gal, Nora Jane Schoeny. The wily, wedged-one was born in the same month as her Daddy (two days apart!), which will forever go down in history as the Best. Month. Of. My. Life.

November- Began considering this month for nomination as Best Month as well. Took more naps and watched more episodes of "The Office" than ever before. Kissed my child perhaps too much. Enjoyed visits from my folks, Peej's folks, my big sis, and a slew of fabulous friends bearing meals, Starbucks, books & toys. (And some were for Nora.) Attended a reading of one of my plays, produced by 20% Theatre...and gave the least intelligible "talk back" afterwards. My mind was NOT on star-crossed lovers and bantery humor, but instead on a pint-sized ball of grins and snuggles that I left at home with her Dad, LESS THAN A MILE AWAY. (So what if I cried? It's the hormones. I will rock this excuse until her wedding.) Held a real Thanksgiving. Cooked a turkey. Panicked. Succeeded in not burning the house down nor tweaking out my child. Subsequently amended my standards of "success."

December- Prided myself on successful car trips and flights with my infant, not to mention exceptional visits with both sides of the fam for Christmas gloriousness. Ate more than was wise, slept more than was expected. P.J. and I enjoyed the heck out of our first holiday season in Chicago with the gal (who are we kidding? We enjoy EVERYTHING with her now.) And to all the folks who paraded the pre-baby "enjoy it now" mantra around like a...parade, I can honestly say that I don't remember having this much fun when I was left to my own singular devices. (Except for maybe that one time. But this is a family blog.)

And to the year that brought me a successful first year of marriage, house, trips around the country, car, kiddo and a few writing acknowledgements- thanks.

Hopefully 2010 will bring glorious things as well: an end to that SMELL in the downstairs pipes? A cease-and-desist for the neighbors- the puking on the stoop one with the slight drinking problem and/or the seventeen-year old autistic dude who is simply IN LOVE with Peej? A bit o' cash for the writing ventures?

Dream big.

(Happy New Year!)

Starin' down the business end of 29.

Or as my sis Kate tells me- The Beginning of My 30th Year. (Not helpful. Accurate, but still unneccessary.) And my youngest sister Emma insists that '30' is still technically one's late '20s. "I mean, it's 30, but whatever." Okie doke! 

But that is for another year. This is the era where '28' passes off the baton to '29'- more like '28' shoves the baton into '29's' reluctant palms like it's covered in a swine flu/strep amalgamation (currently running rampart in Chi's private schools, trust me.)

Not to be all VH1 (I love you, VH1- or I did when you played music, pop-up videos and only the occasional "reality show") but this has been the Best Year Ever. Disregard what I may have personally told you about last year, THIS one has been the Best. 

Some highlights: 

After that whole marriage/Virgin Islands trek/throwing out anything "pre-registry" awesomeness, I got heath insurance. And saw a primary care physician for the first time since my parents had to bribe me with Ben & Jerry's. (Sadly, it wasn't as long ago as that may insinuate.) Health insurance is amazing! So is dental. I have become one of those people that stubs a toe, overflosses and decides that a prescription Vitamin C sounds fun. Better go to the doctor! (Sure, P.J.'s monthly rate has gone up, but they take that outta his check! For me, it's free money. Free cash doctor money.)

My family has managed to graduate four out of the four Flynn girls in some sort of East Coast college! (Well, Em's graduation is on Sunday, but I have the highest of hopes.) I was also lucky enough to see my family, roughly 865 miles away, an average of roughly 57 times. Give or take. 

Which brings me to...trips. Boston, Pittsfield, Cape Cod, Cincinnati, Miami (for like a day and a half, but it was delightful), Los Angeles and various points Midwestern. I have discovered that I am an exceptional passenger. I passenge superbly; radio deejay, instant Google fact-checker, restroom alarm, quiet-snorey-napper, silent crossword puzzler and, when the mood calls for it, Ugly Cry-laugher at your jokes. (P.J. drives. That is why our marriage is so rock solid. That is the only reason.)

People are catching on to the fact that I've been writing since 1988! (Sure, I was eight years old, but truly. Some people start- or peak- early. Would you like to read my early Star Wars/Quantum Leap scripts?) This year alone I've been lucky enough to be featured in Instant Theatre at Chicago Dramatists about ten times, had a play picked up for workshopping by Local 75, finished about ten one-acts and [almost] three full-lengths, had two plays chosen for production by 20% Theatre (one at this summer's Snapshots at Strawdog Theatre and the other at the Pilsen Arts Festival this fall!) and had my first novella win a major competition in Los Angeles. It's just a matter of time before the rest of the money will [start to] roll in.

I met Scott Bakula. He hugged me. 

I have fine-tuned my group of bestest friends into stellar people who happen to have marketable skills that I can enjoy for free (massage therapy, Pilates, shoulders meant for crying) and that have somehow not yet tired of my incessant demands for movies in Grant Park, tacos & spicy tuna rolls and ginger vodkas. Sigh.

P.J. and I had a 4br, 1ba housing deal fall through...only to score one with 5br and 3ba. For 25k cheaper and a mile closer to the glorious neighborhood in which we now reside.

We got pregnant! And while this was not a mandatory "28" goal, it was most definitely on the "Can we try for pre-30?" checklist. P.J. gets major points for staying ahead of my Life Worksheet. (It seems unfair to simultaneously blame him for my unnerving weight gain, but sometimes I still do.)

We celebrated a year of marriage over Memorial Day weekend. That whole thing about the first year of marriage being the hardest? All lies. The first year consists solely of weekend brunch, Mario Kart & Mortal Kombat on the Wii and picking strawberries in the backyard. (Now, the first year of LIVING together was essentially a plate-throwing fest and copious amounts of tears. Phew! Glad THAT'S done!)

And while I'm fairly certain that 29 will have its share of "high points," (meeting my kid, actually living in the house that we're buying, making a year-end list for '29,') I'm still going to state for the record that '28' is the best that could possibly happen in a year. 

Until the Def Leppard concert this summer. Then this year will totally be disregarded.