It surprised me how many of my friends (and you lurkers) enjoyed Volume I of my 2011 post in pictures. The thing that made me consider summarizing the year was when a friend asked me, “Did you have a good year?” What, exactly, makes a year good? Is it making more money and buying things and doing lots of stuff?

Not really.

It’s really easy to take the most recent memories of your life and dwell on anything bad that happened. When I considered summing up my whole year the only thing sticking out to me was the banking stuff that almost made me lose my house. Financially, it’s been a struggle to comeback. Instead of being angry that I couldn’t afford a lot of Christmas presents, I chose to focus on the fact that 3 of my children spent the day with me and The Cuban and we spent any extra cash on a fantastic meal with great conversation and a lot of laughs.

Last week I posted a photo of our Christmas tree and received a lot of comments on how beautiful a scene it was. Someone complimented me on it and then I responded that the other corner of the room wasn’t nearly as pretty and that’s why I didn’t take a photo of it. Boxes, extra lights, wrapping paper, and general junk are piled there. Of course I wouldn’t show that corner. Later, she thanked me for admitting that I had “another” corner and I remembered how much people want to know that we’re all human.

We all have another corner.

I’m not showing that one. It looks even worse now. It’s enough that I know it’s there.

These are more of my favorite pictures from 2011. Seeing them helps me forget, even for a short time, that I have other corners of not-so-pretty things in my life. Those corners will always be there but they didn’t define my year and I won’t let the worst of 2011 get the best of me. Looking at these remind me that I am very happy and have a really good life.

Schmutzie and The Palinode, two of the nicest, most talented people on the planet who happen to be married to each other. Maddie and I spent a lunch hour with them at BlogHer ’11.

What I learned from seeing this photo was that I should never wear a strapless dress and then sit behind a table that makes me look like I’m not wearing anything and that I had some weight to lose so I set about that in the summer right after I returned home from moderating this panel at BlogHer ’11.

Allison runs Petit Elefant and Social Luxe Lounge and does amazing things. I imagine that she leads a charmed life but I’m wise enough to know that she probably has another corner, too. Maddie and I crashed a party that we saw from our hotel room and met up with her.

In the Spring I went to the State Capitol and lobbied for education and learned more about state and federal government. We have a long way to go, people, but I love my job and have found joy in what I do. All the more reason to get involved in what goes on in government.

Former students Kayse and Cheyenne came to dinner, went off to college for the first semester, and came back home to finish schooling for second semester. We’re going to have them over more often.

These are the smallest pair of jeans I owned until November of this year and now they’re baggy on me so, naturally, I had to chronicle this in a self-portrait. My body hasn’t been this size since before my youngest was born.

Here’s an amazing side effect of using social media: over the summer I took Morgan to Cirque du Soleil in Chicago and before the show a woman came up to me and asked, “Aren’t you Mocha Momma?” It was a blogger named Stephanie who later tweeted that she’d seen me there and within 5 minutes my friend Heather B. called me and said, “Are you in Chicago right now? So am I. Come see me!” After the show, Morgan and I picked her up at her hotel and stopped for a late night snack at the Rock n’ Roll McDonald’s.

Heather was amused by Morgan’s telling her a story that they later recounted to me. I had forgotten to get my parking ticket validated while in the restaurant and saw a busload of teenagers go in before me. They were noisy and raucous and reminded me of EVERY DAY AT WORK so I left Heather and Morgan in the parking lot, walked back inside, and cut in front of all of them as they goofed off in line and not one of them said a word to the authoritative woman who just jumped the line. As I walked out, Morgan told Heather, “You know, most people say that they are badasses, but my mom? She really is a badass.”

Then, he apologized to me for using that language.

Mason contemplated life and God and nature out in Washington state and did some bridge jumping with his friends. Leaving home and doing things like this are far bigger deals for him than most people know.

Mason came home for a visit in September and we took a family vacation to Galena where we happened upon Oktoberfest and a whole lot of beer and steins and polka dancing. That’s the best explanation for Mallory’s closed eyes and pose here.

At the stable where we went horseback riding. Nothing but being a goofball accounts for Morgan’s pose here.

A rare photo of me and The Cuban. We’re a little like Superman in that we aren’t in the same place at the same time for a photograph together. Usually, he’s in a phone booth and I’m at the newspaper office. Or something like that.

It’s a bonus when your children get along and like each other. I’m not sure what I did right there.

This picture illustrates how much Morgan needs a haircut AND the difference in their height. She’s the oldest and he’s the youngest. Two extremes.

My mother and my sister, Erin, at mom’s croning ceremony back in March.

The Cuban and I took a Spoon River Drive this Fall where he let me out of the car occasionally to take pictures of the changing leaves. I won’t bore you with those and instead offer this. Does anyone ever take this type of self-portrait and not want to stop the car and clean the rear view mirror?

Mason wore his Cubs hat to church where he got baptized after we got home from vacation. Fitting, yes?

In 2011 my ex-husband gave me some pictures of the children from when they were little that I hadn’t seen nor have access to in years. I immediately scanned this one and got another print to be framed in my house. Being a little rotten stinker accounts for Mason’s pose here.

Our friends, Tammy and Scott, got married this year and The Cuban was put on food detail for the wedding. Naturally, the fellas practiced cooking for Tammy and me.

At the wedding of the aforementioned couple, I piled on only cookies. Not to worry – that was just a little binge to trick my body into thinking it would be getting more carbs. We came home from that weekend wedding and joined a gym.

These are my boys. They are geeky and nerdy and dorky and will Vogue any time I ask them to so, obviously, I love them all. Lots of them are gamers so Morgan thinks I have awesome friends. You can see him poking through in the back there.

Mason came home for Christmas and surprised me one night and his sister the next. She was having her annual Ugly Christmas Sweater Party and he just walked in the front door. This was a long, satisfying hug.

We picked up a sweater for Mason at the local Goodwill and I’m certain it came from the 80s since it’s cropped. It’s also a woman’s sweater.

I’m pretty sure I said, “Let’s take a corny, Ugly Christmas Sweater picture” but all he heard was, “Make a face like someone just gave us a fruitcake.”

The Cuban taught Mason how to make bread this very week and we used an embarrassing amount of flour, but they turned out wonderful and now Mason can bake his own if he wants.

Over the year I became addicted to Pinterest and found a great scarf that I mentioned wanting and my friend Kjirsten, who knits with the ferocity of a spider consisting on a diet of caffeine and crack, told me that if I paid for the hanks of yarn she would happily make it for me and ship it by Christmas. It’s a beautiful blue-green that I can wrap around my neck about seven times. Thank you, Kjirsten. It is gorgeous and I love it.

Two thousand eleven.

I did all the important things. I loved and dreamed and kissed. Passionately and deeply. I put on workout clothes and sweat. Sometimes I created. I wrote and believed. I took some deep breaths and noshed on delicious food. I sat with friends and cried happy and sad tears. I watched two people get married. I watched one get buried. I walked out on something, took a stand, made my mark, had integrity, and lived to tell about it. I said no and I meant it. I said yes, too. I promised and hoped and made a deal with The Cuban that we were in this for the long run. I danced to my heart’s content. I listened to my children and offered what they needed even if it wasn’t what they wanted. I said what I wanted to say. I relinquished on something and didn’t regret it. I forgave. Again. I drank it all in. I didn’t let everything bother me. I read and read and read some more. I let things go and it didn’t hurt. I let myself go crazy. I un-hurt people after I hurt them. I refused to apologize. I had junky corners and pristine corners of my house and life. I crawled all the way in and parked myself wherever I pleased.

Come on, two thousand twelve. It’s not like I haven’t been practicing for you.