Done, I think.

I just finished reading my 41st book of the year. Titled "Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year," by Anne Lamott, it was 251 pages of pure, raw emotion. Lamott is 35 and single when she has a baby boy. The book is a record of her journey with Sam (her son) through his first year. As a former addict to both drugs and alcohol, and also a firm believer in God, she comes at life in a rather unconventional way. Her fear and pain bleed through the pages as she talks about her best friend getting cancer (she passes away a couple of months after Sam's 3rd birthday), about losing her dad to brain cancer many years earlier, and about how she longs for Sam to have a dad.
Interspersed with the fear, and the pain, and the worry, are the hilarious moments, and the incredibly precious moments. Lamott revels in her son's every new development - waving goodbye, learning to crawl, the first time he ate a plum, dancing, babbling from the carseat. There is a sense of urgency about her life, as she feels everything so deeply and experiences such great highs and lows in one year.
Definitely one of my favorite books of the last 12 months.