So, it's 2016. New Year, and time for New Year's Resolutions. I'm not usually a resolution person, but this year I thought maybe it would be fun to set some goals for the upcoming 365.
At first, my big resolution was going to be to watch the entire season of The Bachelor, but I'm two episodes in and it's killing me. Between the batshit crazy women and the overused use of the word 'feelings' (Seriously, one woman was so excited to "actually be having feelings for Ben" that you would have thought she'd just picked the winning Powerball ticket) my guilty pleasure is starting to cause me pain.
So instead I decided I would make some real resolutions about stuff that I'd actually like to improve n in my life. I'm already a pretty avid reader, love to work out at the gym, and don't have any vices that I need to quit. Or rather, any vices that I want to quit. But there are a few areas in my life that do need improvement - some having to do with taking care of myself and some having to do with taking care of my house and family.
These are the goals that I set for myself and, two weeks into the new year, how I'm doing with them.
1. Resolution: I will make healthy choices when eating.
What this entails:
Making healthy food for myself and keeping only healthy snacks in the fridge instead of living on microwaveable ramen noodles and Pringles when The Husband is working late --college life ended 15 years ago.
Not eating my kids' leftovers because there are starving children in Africa.
Not eating food that has been dropped on the floor because I'm too lazy to walk to the garbage can.
Not eating the candy or crumbs that are on the bottom of my purse or diaper bag because...well, because they're there.
My progress so far: Excellent
I have been making green smoothies every morning in my VitaMix and have stocked my fridge with kale and chia seeds. My skin is positively glowing (and, I am guessing, based on my frequent trips to the bathroom, so is my colon).
I have gotten rid of all processed snacks that I might be tempted by and replaced them with snacks like raw almonds and celery sticks which I am not even a little bit tempted by, which means I've stopped snacking altogether.
I have come to terms with the fact that there will always be starving children in some part of the world, and wasting food in my kitchen will not change that fact. However I will still use that thing about hungry kids in Africa to make my children feel bad about wasting their food.
As for the floor and the purse, I have purchased a Dyson Handheld Vacuum which might be the most profound and life-changing purchase I have made in the last ten years. If someone had told me at 25 that the battery powered device that would bring me the purest and most unadulterated joy I have ever known would be a dustbuster I probably would have... well, I probably would have asked for another drink because clearly I was already too drunk to be hearing them correctly and who cared if I had a hangover the next morning-- the only person I had to take care of was my cat.
Next Steps: Stop taste-testing the kids' food before serving it to make sure they'll like it. I've made mac and cheese roughly 6,000 times, I think I've got it by now.
2. Resolution: I will be a better housekeeper.
What this entails:
Keeping on top of the laundry.
Not letting the kids eat or drink (read: sprinkle crumbs into the carpet and spill juice on the couch) in the family room.
Quit treating the insects who eat the crumbs on the kitchen floor like they're part of the family.
My progress so far: Good (although The Husband would probably say that's debatable based on his reaction to the chewed up and spit out almonds he found on the couch the other night - see, because NO ONE wants to snack on raw almonds!!!!).
The Dyson I mentioned in the previous resolution has taken care of a lot of crumb and bug issues (I swear I'm not getting paid to say nice things about my handheld vacuum, although if anyone from Dyson is reading this, I'm totally open to it).
However, every winter that we've been in this house we have had house guests. Like, 50 of them, actually. Their scientific name is pentatomoidea but they're more commonly known as stink bugs because of the odor they give off when they are threatened or squashed. Otherwise they're basically harmless and since they don't bite or sting, I've kinda just made my peace with them. Sometimes I even talk to them.
It's busy season for my husband which means I'm alone a lot.
But when a stink bug dive-bombed my head the other night I took it as an act of aggression and officially declared war. In the past week, those suckers have gotten smashed, flushed, and sent through the garbage disposal.
The only problem here is the that aforementioned scent they
give off when they are killed. It has a way of seeping back up through
the toilet you just flushed them down - I think it's like a 'call to arms' or something because the next thing I know there are three stink bugs
just hanging out on the insides of the toilet plotting their revenge.
Well, the joke's on them because those suckers make great target
practice for a potty-training 2 year old.
About that potty training - I am not too proud to say that we now have a plastic potty on display in the middle of the family room. I think of it as a 'conversation piece', which is apt since all my kids talk about is poop and pee most of the time anyway.
However you probably wouldn't notice the potty because most of the floor is covered in laundry that needs to be folded.
OMG the laundry.
I honestly don't know how five
people can wear so many clothes. Especially since I basically go from
jammies to workout clothes and back to jammies (more about that later). And yet, every time I think "Aha! I've conquered the laundry!" I open
the laundry chute and out pours another three loads of dirty clothes
waiting to be washed. It's like Groundhog Day meets a Tide commercial.
The worst part about the laundry is the socks. When I was a teenager I babysat for a family with three kids and every week when I showed up there would be a huge basket of unmatched socks for me to fold in addition to my usual babysitting responsibilities, which, from what I remember, involved drawing pictures of Disney Princesses and watching Nickelodeon (you know, because there was no Snap Chat or Facebook which is what I imagine our current baby sitters do most of the time that they're with my kids - it's cool guys, I spend a lot of time on my phone when I'm with my kids too).
I could not understand how a grown woman who did not work outside the house could not manage to fold her own laundry. I mean, what did she DO all day?
I would love to go back in time and slap myself across the
face for having those thoughts.
I recently saw that woman, and to her I said "I get it now. I totally get it." I have huge piles of mismatched socks in the laundry room. I have stray socks under beds, in the basement, on top of the ceiling fan (because, boys). I have socks with holes in them that I can't throw out because there might be a sock emergency where I need them and socks from when my kids were six months old that I hang on to just in case one day I find it's mate and can softly hum "reunited and it feels so good" as I fold them back together.
Next Steps: Buy more socks. And maybe replace the little potty with a nice console from Pottery Barn.
3. Resolution: I will be more involved with my kids' school stuff
What this entails:
Making sure their backpacks are packed the night before with all of the necessary permission slips, snacks, snow gear, and library books so that I'm not emailing the school secretary at 9 am to let her know that I'll be dropping off Kid #1's math homework and please don't judge me because I'll probably still be in my pajamas.
Remembering to look in my preschooler's backpack every night instead of once a week so that I get the memo that I have door duty on Thursday before....well, before I pull up to the drop off line on Thursday and say to myself "why is the line so long, who is the idiot forgot she had door duty....oh shit" and then have to jump out of my car and do door duty and make it look like I meant to do it in my pajamas.
Showing up to PTA meetings and volunteering for stuff - and not just the stuff that doesn't involve being around kids.
My progress so far: Fair
I have already had at least one conversation with a teacher that involved me pretending that I knew what she was talking about - which I would have had I opened my son's book bag three days earlier and read the contents inside.
I have, however, fulfilled my January responsibility as co room-coordinator. This is a position I was tricked into by another mom who told me how she thought I'd do an amazing job based on absolutely nothing that she knows about me other than the fact that I totally dig flattery. This month's task was to submit the names of the mothers who have volunteered to attend February's Valentine's Day party so that they can be thoroughly vetted by the PTA president (I'm assuming that, since we were asked to submit these names two months ago there is an FBI background check involved) and wristbands can be handed out to said volunteers so that they can pretend that they are going to an exclusive night club instead of a classroom where the drinks are served in cardboard boxes with bendy straws. I think it's also for security reasons too, but whatever, I'm just waiting for someone to try to sell their band on Stub Hub to some parent who was shut out of the party planning process.
I recently saw that woman, and to her I said "I get it now. I totally get it." I have huge piles of mismatched socks in the laundry room. I have stray socks under beds, in the basement, on top of the ceiling fan (because, boys). I have socks with holes in them that I can't throw out because there might be a sock emergency where I need them and socks from when my kids were six months old that I hang on to just in case one day I find it's mate and can softly hum "reunited and it feels so good" as I fold them back together.
Next Steps: Buy more socks. And maybe replace the little potty with a nice console from Pottery Barn.
3. Resolution: I will be more involved with my kids' school stuff
What this entails:
Making sure their backpacks are packed the night before with all of the necessary permission slips, snacks, snow gear, and library books so that I'm not emailing the school secretary at 9 am to let her know that I'll be dropping off Kid #1's math homework and please don't judge me because I'll probably still be in my pajamas.
Remembering to look in my preschooler's backpack every night instead of once a week so that I get the memo that I have door duty on Thursday before....well, before I pull up to the drop off line on Thursday and say to myself "why is the line so long, who is the idiot forgot she had door duty....oh shit" and then have to jump out of my car and do door duty and make it look like I meant to do it in my pajamas.
Showing up to PTA meetings and volunteering for stuff - and not just the stuff that doesn't involve being around kids.
My progress so far: Fair
I have already had at least one conversation with a teacher that involved me pretending that I knew what she was talking about - which I would have had I opened my son's book bag three days earlier and read the contents inside.
I have, however, fulfilled my January responsibility as co room-coordinator. This is a position I was tricked into by another mom who told me how she thought I'd do an amazing job based on absolutely nothing that she knows about me other than the fact that I totally dig flattery. This month's task was to submit the names of the mothers who have volunteered to attend February's Valentine's Day party so that they can be thoroughly vetted by the PTA president (I'm assuming that, since we were asked to submit these names two months ago there is an FBI background check involved) and wristbands can be handed out to said volunteers so that they can pretend that they are going to an exclusive night club instead of a classroom where the drinks are served in cardboard boxes with bendy straws. I think it's also for security reasons too, but whatever, I'm just waiting for someone to try to sell their band on Stub Hub to some parent who was shut out of the party planning process.
As for volunteering for stuff, I definitely signed up to be the party planner for that Valentine's Day party. I love Valentine's Day - growing up my mom always made a big deal out it - which I'm sure my husband totally appreciates every year when I expect him to make a big deal out of it too and he pretends that he doesn't know what day it is. Since I love this Love Day so much, I figured this would be a class party that I could rock. I don't get into the costume thing at Halloween and planning the politically correct "Winter Party" means running the risk of offending someone by accidentally using red and green sprinkles on the cupcakes or muttering "Jesus Christ" under my breath when I'm told that the dreidel game is basically gambling and the classroom is not a casino.
Then I was invited to go to New York City for my cousins' kid's baby-naming. My mom is going, my sister lives there, and NYC is basically my favorite place to visit for a weekend. The thing is, we would leave on the morning of the Valentine's Day party. I felt a pang of guilt as I purchased my airline tickets but then reminded myself that I was at the Halloween party snapping pictures of Kid #1 dressed up as a terrorist - er - ninja, I accompanied him to his parent/child breakfast at school this week, and I will totally show up for the parent participation day at his school next month when the parents get to attend gym class and music class with their child. Last year's parent participation day was amazing, and not just because the gym teacher who told me I had good form when we were doing push ups was hot.
It was because it was the first time any gym teacher anywhere, ever told me I was doing something right.
See - I show up, just not every single time at every single event. Knowing that their parents are busy people who sometimes do things that don't involve them builds character in kids.
Next Steps: Now, don't assume that just because I'm taking off before the party that I am completely flaking on my responsibility as party planner. I fully intend to plan the entire Valentine's Day party and then hand it off to another parent volunteer who has agreed to execute it in my absence. I'm thinking candy hearts and a kissing booth with a hashtag so that all the pictures can be tagged on instagram. Who is this person that I am dumping a bunch of sugar high second graders and a possible sex scandal on, you ask? None other than the person who talked me into being Room Coordinator in the first place.
Payback's a bitch.
4. Resolution: I will look like I made an effort when getting ready to leave the house.
What this Entails:
Being showered and dressed in non-workout clothes unless I am on the way to the gym or on the way home from the gym or within ten minutes of getting home from the gym.
Not wearing track pants unless I am on an actual track.
Understanding the difference between "I woke up like this" and "I look like I might have slept in this."
Progress so far: Poor.
The other day I came downstairs at ten am and Kid #3 latched onto my leg and started crying "don't go!" Kid #2 looked at me and said "Who's Babysitting?" I asked them why they thought a babysitter was coming. "Because you looks so fancy!" said Kid #1.
I was wearing faded gray skinny jeans and a denim button down shirt.
Apparently any time that I am showered, dressed in non-active wear (inactive wear? can I trademark that?), and have actually made an effort to straighten (and let's face it, brush) my hair, I look like I'm about to head out the door, because the mom that my kids know is one who puts their needs before her own personal hygiene.
I don't want to live like this. I would love to be the mom at preschool drop off in heels and mascara! I'm so curious about these moms - What time do they wake up? What do their kids do while they are getting ready? Is this look just for running to Target or is there somewhere better to hang during the day that I don't know about? Somewhere with wine?.
But every time I take a shower my two year old decides he wants to take a bath, and he stands outside the shower door telling me so every three seconds, which kinda ruins any kind of relaxation I was hoping to get from standing alone under hot running water for three minutes. After a little while he gives up and washes his hands with my very expensive retinol anti-aging skin cream and then tee-pees the bathroom so that when I emerge two minutes later I find myself having to divide my time between hair and makeup and picking up soggy tissues while lecturing about the importance of using SPF while you're young.
IF I manage to dry and straighten my hair, it's doing so while yelling "No! Don't do that!" and "That's Mommy's!" And then, the minute I put on a top that isn't a black
sweatshirt someone spills their juice on me or uses my sleeve as a
tissue for their runny nose.
Also, there's the time thing. Every morning I'm running out the door five minutes late for preschool after having been at it nonstop for three hours already feeding my kids, making their lunches, talking them out of beating their brother over the head with a toy light saber, and catching up on my email/facebook/text messages.
OK, maybe that last part can go. But how am I going to know what I am supposed to look like if I'm not able to see the selfies that all my friends, family, and babysitters are posting online?
Still, I told myself when I was a kid that I would never let myself go when I was a mom. I had big plans for myself as a 37 year old, and since it was the mid-eighties, I'm pretty sure those plans involved shoulder pads and lots of bangs, and definitely not camel-toe and a messy pony.
Next Steps: A lock on the bathroom door.
5. Resolution: Be A Better Mom
What this entails:
Not yelling so much
Getting my kids to bed earlier
Better eating habits for the kids.
My progress so far: Poor
OK, it's clear I bit off a bit more than I could chew with this one. For one thing, yelling just seems to be the only means of communication that gets my kids to stop what they are doing (beating on each other) and respond to me, even if that response is a wide-eyed "you've really lost it this time, mom" expression. Some people are yellers. Some families are yellers. We yell. Then we cry and we hug and we make up. It's all very Jewish.
Bedtime. Ah, bedtime. Do I want my kids in bed earlier? Of course! I would do anything to have all three of my offspring asleep at 8 pm. I hear of people whose kids sleep 15 hours a night and nap three hours a day and I think...are they depressed?
I think my children just really like to be awake.
And try as I might to get them to bed earlier, any time I attempt to move to an earlier bedtime they start behaving like those little hedgehogs in the carnival game where you have to hit one over the head with a mallet to subdue him, only to have a different animal pop up in it's place. So I must choose, do I want to be spending my evenings hitting my kids over the heads with mallets (metaphorically speaking, of course) or do I want to snuggle up with them on the couch and watch their favorite TV show and maybe read them an extra story because at least that way when I finally do say 'good-night' and shut the door we all really mean it?
Anyone who follows this blog knows that eating habits is something I've really struggled with with my kids. I came from a home where you ate what was on the table and if you didn't like it, too bad. And yet, somehow I've found myself making seven dinners for five people. My husband is a vegetarian, Kid #1 loves chicken -whether it be in nugget, tender, or drumstick form, Kid #2 only eats processed cheese and Kid #3 wants a little bit of what everyone at the table is having, making his plate look like he's having an identity crisis (is he a crunchy vegan?!? a frat boy?!? Colonel Sanders?!?). The time it takes to satisfy everyone's picky palettes is inversely proportional to the time it takes for them to eat it and then leave me with the clean up. Three times a week I declare that THIS. IS. IT and that I'm not making separate dinners ANYMORE. And then I find myself throwing a ridiculous amount of food down the drain because I've resolved not to eat my kids' leftovers and I'm mad that I spent money on food that no one ate and the next night it's back to macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, tofu cutlets and quinoa.
Next Steps: Stop trying to be perfect.
So, part of the reason I put all this pressure on myself to be a better (read: perfect) parent is because I had pretty amazing (read: perfect) parents myself. They never yelled, they had us in bed at 7:30 on the nose, and they fed us well-balanced, nutritious meals every day.
Well, sort of.
See, my parents didn't yell because when they did I, being extremely sensitive, as a child, would absolutely freak out. And I remember being kind of a pain in the ass at bedtime and realize now that the reason my mom always sent my dad in to deal with my ever-growing list of fears and phobias at night was less about his undergrad degree in psychology and more about the fact that she was DONE dealing with my neuroses for the day. And sure, the dinners were healthy but that doesn't always mean I was appreciative or enthusiastic about every single one (tuna night, ugh). But the fact is that that's not the stuff I remember unless I really dig deep.
What I remember is being happy, and being loved.
I got into a fight with my parents the other night because I was trying so hard to live up to the example that they set as parents and it all sort of imploded in a way that resulted in a tearful drive home where my seven-year-old overheard me say "I'm doing such a bad job being a mom." Being the sensitive oldest child that he is, he burst into tears and said "No you're not! You're the best mom! That time I broke my arm you did such a good job driving me to the emergency room!"
The fact that he had to dig up something that happened a year and a half ago to prove my greatness didn't matter to me. See, 'cause this was the first time someone had ever complimented my driving.
Furthermore, it reminded me that kids don't judge us the way we judge ourselves. My kids think I'm beautiful when I haven't bathed in two days, they think our house is the best place to hang out on a snowy day - crumbs and all - and they don't care if I'm PTA president or just that mom who remembers to pick them up every day at school.
Even if I'm still in my pajamas.
Happy New Year! My all your resolutions be realistic, reasonable, and reminders that nobody is perfect!
Also, there's the time thing. Every morning I'm running out the door five minutes late for preschool after having been at it nonstop for three hours already feeding my kids, making their lunches, talking them out of beating their brother over the head with a toy light saber, and catching up on my email/facebook/text messages.
OK, maybe that last part can go. But how am I going to know what I am supposed to look like if I'm not able to see the selfies that all my friends, family, and babysitters are posting online?
Still, I told myself when I was a kid that I would never let myself go when I was a mom. I had big plans for myself as a 37 year old, and since it was the mid-eighties, I'm pretty sure those plans involved shoulder pads and lots of bangs, and definitely not camel-toe and a messy pony.
Next Steps: A lock on the bathroom door.
5. Resolution: Be A Better Mom
What this entails:
Not yelling so much
Getting my kids to bed earlier
Better eating habits for the kids.
My progress so far: Poor
OK, it's clear I bit off a bit more than I could chew with this one. For one thing, yelling just seems to be the only means of communication that gets my kids to stop what they are doing (beating on each other) and respond to me, even if that response is a wide-eyed "you've really lost it this time, mom" expression. Some people are yellers. Some families are yellers. We yell. Then we cry and we hug and we make up. It's all very Jewish.
Bedtime. Ah, bedtime. Do I want my kids in bed earlier? Of course! I would do anything to have all three of my offspring asleep at 8 pm. I hear of people whose kids sleep 15 hours a night and nap three hours a day and I think...are they depressed?
I think my children just really like to be awake.
And try as I might to get them to bed earlier, any time I attempt to move to an earlier bedtime they start behaving like those little hedgehogs in the carnival game where you have to hit one over the head with a mallet to subdue him, only to have a different animal pop up in it's place. So I must choose, do I want to be spending my evenings hitting my kids over the heads with mallets (metaphorically speaking, of course) or do I want to snuggle up with them on the couch and watch their favorite TV show and maybe read them an extra story because at least that way when I finally do say 'good-night' and shut the door we all really mean it?
Anyone who follows this blog knows that eating habits is something I've really struggled with with my kids. I came from a home where you ate what was on the table and if you didn't like it, too bad. And yet, somehow I've found myself making seven dinners for five people. My husband is a vegetarian, Kid #1 loves chicken -whether it be in nugget, tender, or drumstick form, Kid #2 only eats processed cheese and Kid #3 wants a little bit of what everyone at the table is having, making his plate look like he's having an identity crisis (is he a crunchy vegan?!? a frat boy?!? Colonel Sanders?!?). The time it takes to satisfy everyone's picky palettes is inversely proportional to the time it takes for them to eat it and then leave me with the clean up. Three times a week I declare that THIS. IS. IT and that I'm not making separate dinners ANYMORE. And then I find myself throwing a ridiculous amount of food down the drain because I've resolved not to eat my kids' leftovers and I'm mad that I spent money on food that no one ate and the next night it's back to macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, tofu cutlets and quinoa.
Next Steps: Stop trying to be perfect.
So, part of the reason I put all this pressure on myself to be a better (read: perfect) parent is because I had pretty amazing (read: perfect) parents myself. They never yelled, they had us in bed at 7:30 on the nose, and they fed us well-balanced, nutritious meals every day.
Well, sort of.
See, my parents didn't yell because when they did I, being extremely sensitive, as a child, would absolutely freak out. And I remember being kind of a pain in the ass at bedtime and realize now that the reason my mom always sent my dad in to deal with my ever-growing list of fears and phobias at night was less about his undergrad degree in psychology and more about the fact that she was DONE dealing with my neuroses for the day. And sure, the dinners were healthy but that doesn't always mean I was appreciative or enthusiastic about every single one (tuna night, ugh). But the fact is that that's not the stuff I remember unless I really dig deep.
What I remember is being happy, and being loved.
I got into a fight with my parents the other night because I was trying so hard to live up to the example that they set as parents and it all sort of imploded in a way that resulted in a tearful drive home where my seven-year-old overheard me say "I'm doing such a bad job being a mom." Being the sensitive oldest child that he is, he burst into tears and said "No you're not! You're the best mom! That time I broke my arm you did such a good job driving me to the emergency room!"
The fact that he had to dig up something that happened a year and a half ago to prove my greatness didn't matter to me. See, 'cause this was the first time someone had ever complimented my driving.
Furthermore, it reminded me that kids don't judge us the way we judge ourselves. My kids think I'm beautiful when I haven't bathed in two days, they think our house is the best place to hang out on a snowy day - crumbs and all - and they don't care if I'm PTA president or just that mom who remembers to pick them up every day at school.
Even if I'm still in my pajamas.
Happy New Year! My all your resolutions be realistic, reasonable, and reminders that nobody is perfect!
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