Ahh, New Year’s Resolutions.
Sorry. I like them. And while I know many people make the same resolutions year after year, and fail year after year, I’m one of those people who makes just one resolution and usually keeps it. Perhaps I’m setting my sights too low. Perhaps I know exactly what I can accomplish.
Whatever. My resolutions are not typically enormous habit changes. They are usually a one-and-done type of goal. Real examples:
- 2007: lose the weight I gained with first pregnancy (who knew that one wouldn’t be an issue for me?) and run another marathon. (check)
- 2010: reduce my grocery budget by 10% (did closer to 30%, overachiever check)
- 2011: find a dentist and make appointments for me and the girls (check)
- 2012: get pregnant in time to have another baby before January (check)
Certainly not momentous nor life-altering, but there is a certain level of accomplishment that I still feel whenever I make and keep that one resolution each year.
And then, some years, I skip it altogether. More than once I’ve written about my “word of the year” thing. I mean let’s be honest, New Year’s Resolutions and New-Borns (or pregnancy, for that matter) don’t exactly peacefully co-exist.
So though I’m not necessarily labeling it a resolution, my biggest focus this year is to live in some Beth-Moore-style freedom from the guilt that I might not actually be enjoying every single minute of these oh-so-short baby years, and to embrace my more comfortable perspective that it is okay to admit that things are difficult.
Things are difficult but not impossible. Things are sometimes miserable, but my life, overall, is not miserable. I’m happy with the way my clothes fit, but it is okay to admit that I’m not in love with my post-baby back pain, outty belly button, hair cut, and general lack of the physical and mental strength to actually work out at the gym. It is okay that I’ve given in and hired a housekeeper, and it is also okay that there is no maintenance of the floors and bathrooms in between her every 5th week cleaning. (Dark carpet. Blammo.)
So I’m spending the year accepting that what I once would have labeled “mediocre” is currently my excellent.
And if you see me in the grocery store looking like I have it somewhat together and ask, “Four kids?! How do you do it?” I plan to answer you the same way I answer everyone else: “Well, you know, prayer and alcohol, not necessarily in equal parts.”
And truthfully, that’s okay with me right now too.