Ringin’ It In.

I write a lot of posts about little kids.

Our little kids.

Because we have a lot of them.

A lot of little kids.

But we have a teenager too.

And I’ve already shared about why posts featuring her name are less frequent than others.

But we try to embrace these years of

fashion and funk,

tears and drama,

breaking away and holding on

in the same manner we embrace the poop and the broken pickle jars.

(With a laugh and a joke.  At least – the next day.)

This New Year’s Eve might have found you toasting the past and the future with your friends, holding a fluted little champagne glass and resting peacefully in the fact that your children were asleep at home with a sitter.

That’s not where this New Year’s Eve found me.

I was at home.

And I like home, so that part is cool.

But we were not alone.

Absolutely not alone.

Riley and her friends were celebrating a New Year’s Eve in a loud, dancy, let’s-try-to-keep-the-strangers-who-live-down-the-road-up-too kind of way.

And I’m confident that this is just the beginning of all this.

I mean, kids are like kittens – right?

They grow up into cats.

Uh.

Teenagers.

And we have five more in this litter.

Yikes.  I don’t care for the whole kitten/cat/litter analogy.

I promise to never use it again.

Last night I could not hear the type-tip-tapping of my keyboard’s keys.  (It’s a sound I adore.)

I watched the art on our walls shake and bounce as a dance party erupted.

I was forced to listen to the musical musings of the hired writers for the likes of Miley Cyrus and Jesse McCartney.

I had to soothe at least three younger siblings who had to lie in their beds and listen to a party they were deemed too young to attend.  (I managed to sneak a few treats back to the kind little chaps.)

I bought and baked the requested heavily processed and packaged pizza rolls. Which were neither really pizza nor rolls.

My ears were pierced by random and unnecessarily loud squeals and screams.

Despite all that

the noise

the sugary snacks my hands kept unintentionally reaching for

the shaking walls

the cheesy songs

I was happy to have that little crowd of teenagers at our house.

Grateful that my daughter wanted to hang out at our house with her friends.

Glad to see a passel of teenagers sitting on our furniture (yes, on the already wobbly arms of our leather sofa) and playing guitars and singing songs together.

Glad to hear their laughter during a rowdy game of Apples to Apples.

Glad that we have a few more years to know and live with this person who is less kid and more adult with the rising and setting of each day’s sun.

And all that makes for a good New Year’s Eve.

Even if it was loud.

And messy.

How did the new year find you and your house?