One night last week, I decided it was a wonderful night for a bath.

I grabbed one of my Lush bath bombs with no more than a cursory sniff to make sure it wasn’t objectionable.

I honestly thought I had grabbed a Honey Bee bath bomb. I keep each one individually wrapped, to try and protect the scent somewhat, so I didn’t even take it out before hand.

I ran the bath, turned on the battery operated candles (I know, but I can never find the freaking matches when I want them), and dumped the bath bomb in.

Which promptly went WHOOOSH and I thought, “Huh. That’s not Honey Bee.”

But I was tired and didn’t want to turn the lights back on and who cares, a bath is a bath.

I didn’t even turn on the lights when I was done – I had already brushed my teeth, so I just drained the bath and went to bed.

The next morning, when I went to get ready for the day, I realized the full extent of the carnage.

The entire bathtub was full of purple glitter. It looked like I had battled and won a fight against a Twilight-esque vampire.

Definitely not a Honey Bee.

I spent the entire last day of 2012 curled up under a ridiculous number of blankets feeling like death would be preferable to sitting upright. The first day of 2013, I was feeling so much better that I took my blanket burrito downstairs and lay on the floor, occasionally moaning or making feeble motions towards eating soup.

It was quite the party.

Brandus is a total rock star, and I’m fairly certain I told him I’d give him my first born, which made him snort and Voldemort yell “NOOO” and try and burrow into my blanket fort with me to attach himself like a barnacle to my side. That lasted all of five seconds before he was trying to steal all of my covers to make himself a ghost.

So, 2013. Here we are.

2012, when I think about it, didn’t fit well into the “awesome” category. Honestly, it pretty much sucked. I got fired, which was a first. I started a new job – again. I thought I was doing great – again. And then I get called on the carpet during the first week and am bawled out about something that came completely out of left field – AGAIN! I started having actual panic attacks, which is FABULOUS, let me tell you. Both Brandus and Voldemort made a trip to the E.R. And the topping on the cake was the death of my mother in law.

Fuck you, 2012.

But you, 2013, I feel good things from you. I’m getting a new niece or nephew. I’m going back to get my Masters (unwillingly, but that’s irrelevant). I’m starting to write again.

You and me, 2013. We’re going to get along just fine. I’m going to ignore the fact that Voldemort needs significant dental work (HE’S NOT EVEN FIVE. HE BRUSHES TWICE A DAY. WHAT THE HELL.) and I spent the second night of 2013 dealing with significant insomnia because I kept running over and over and over what my mother would say about his teeth – all of which end up with her laying the blame neatly at my feet, much as she did when he was just born and wasn’t gaining weight and she decided it was because I wasn’t dressing him warmly enough and he was using up all of his energy keeping warm NOT THAT I STILL THINK ABOUT THAT OR ANYTHING – and generally feeling like a terrible mother. So I went downstairs and stuffed my head so full of words and words and words of stories that I drowned out my own Anxiety Disorder influenced words of blame and hate and horribleness and I ended up getting two hours of sleep but NONE OF THAT IS IMPORTANT.

What is important is that 2013 and I are going to get along just fine. I won’t get fired. I will handle the panic attacks by remembering that my xanax is in my purse for a reason. I will support the Brandus as much as I can. I’ll try and remember awesome days like today with my kid, where he’s happy and helpful and interested in everything. I’ll drink more water, sing more songs, dance with my students, clean the kitchen, bake a cake.

Welcome to my world, 2013. Let’s rock this year.

It started a few months ago, I think, although the memory is a little hazy.

A general email from Family Fun, a magazine I get, sent out to a billion people or some other ridiculous amount, asking for ideas for what we do with our kids for science.

I didn’t think anything of it, except that they were giving away a $100 gift card to a random survey respond-er, and at the time, $100 would have been AWESOME.

So I threw out the first idea I had – which is something we actually do – and promptly forgot all about it.

Until last month, when I got an email I thought was going to be the same thing – a general email from the magazine to a bunch of people, looking for responses. Instead, it started with DEAR ALIANORA, and expressed interest in possibly printing the idea – barring any other better ideas.

Um. Wow. Ok, sure. So, we exchanged a few emails, with them asking questions and me clarifying a few things.

And while I kind of thought, “Wow, this is kinda cool,” again, I didn’t think much about it, because what are the chances, right?

Yesterday, I got an email from a fact checker, and today, I got a contract in the mail.

Family Fun will be printing my idea and PAYING ME FOR IT.

The March issue should feature it, and I might pass out and die.

No, it’s not like I’m writing for the magazine, but it’s still pretty damn cool.