Resolutions and such

It’s a new year. I’m pretty heartened to see the general attitude on Facebook about it is “let’s grab this year by the balls!” instead of last year’s fear and defeatism. Hey, we survived a whole year with an incompetent lunatic in the White House. I’m furious he’s still there - but we’re still alive and functioning. That’s something, right? And it’s all about those mid-terms. I can’t frigging WAIT for November.

As usual I’ve assembled myself a list of resolutions. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep any of them. I’m still in Little Kid Mode - I’m still responsible for the every need of three people (sometimes four). It’s a lot, and I am always exhausted, no matter how much time off or rest I get. I figure this will continue at least until Theo is in kindergarten, which is still almost two years away. So just surviving the year is my number one resolution.

Secondary is learning piano (I have a cheap intro lesson with B’s violin teacher next Saturday) and resuming yoga finally (tentative plans to check out a local studio on Tuesday). I would also like to not buy any new clothes for myself for an entire year (except underwear and socks), sticking with second-hand clothes only. Being a seasoned vintage clothes shopper, this should not be an issue. But there is some comfort in just waltzing into a Target or an Old Navy and pulling things your size off the rack and getting in and out fast. Vintage clothes (even modern vintage) takes a lot more digging and time (and creativity). But somehow I got the bug up my butt that I really don’t want to contribute to the fast fashion industry anymore, so I’d like to at least try that. 

I would also like to take off the 5-7 pounds I packed on since the summer. I know this is laughable to some, and I’m pretty annoyed with myself that I even care about such a paltry amount of weight. But I know that not caring is exactly how you wake up and find yourself 20, 30, 40 lbs overweight one day and wonder how it happened. Being vigilant is how you stay slim. But oh, it’s so exhausting, and hard, and it’s so tempting to just say “fuck it” and let yourself slip into middle aged spread. To say I have a complicated relationship with weight at this stage in my life would be an understatement. 

What I would like for my life this year is this: try to get through the final full year of schlepping Theo between preschools and lots of childcare time with some grace; continue to have thriving, healthy kids; continue to be in a loving relationship; have another successful event that benefits from the many changes I’m making this year and makes enough to renovate my kitchen; continue to work on my mental health and not let intrusive thoughts ruin my serenity; be able to have those rare, elusive moments of just sitting in the moment and feeling grateful and proud of all I’ve accomplished. 

But mostly, be kind to myself. I do a lot, and I’m not perfect, and striving for perfection is a fool’s game. People always say, “everyone does the best they can,” but that’s total bullshit. I don’t always do the best I can; I assume this is true for everyone else, too. Sometimes you fuck up and you know you’re fucking up and you just don’t care. Welcome to being human. I know 2018 will have many of those moments of not being my best. Let’s hope I can have the grace to shrug my shoulders, chuckle to myself, and try to do better tomorrow (maybe).