New Year’s Resolutions for Other People

Happy New Year, people! I’m feeling pressure to write something thoughtful and profound. About the inner wisdom I’ve gained over the past year and my meaningful goals for 2011. But I’ve got nothing. Oh, sure, I’ve got the usual “worry less, read more, eat better” resolutions, but that’s about it. (Last year I was more creative.)

Maybe it’s because I spent the last 4 days at my in-laws’, otherwise known as The Land Where the Kitchen Never Closes and the TV’s Always On. All those home-cooked meals and football games don’t lend themselves to quiet introspection. Not to mention the fact that I spent the entire trip wrestling fragile Christmas decorations out of my toddler’s grip and trying to keep my 4-year-old from strewing his belongings from one end of the house to the other. (Even so, we lost 3 socks, 1 pair of gloves, a couple of action figures, and several pieces of a brand-new Uno game.)

The funny thing is, I can think of plenty of New Year’s resolutions for OTHER people. For instance, my husband might resolve to plan in advance for things. Say, choosing a recipe and making a grocery list before it’s his turn to cook dinner, instead of gazing into the pantry and searching FoodNetwork.com at 5:30pm and hoping the ingredients for a delicious meal magically materialize in the next 20 min.

And my 4 y.o. might resolve to approach the toilet as a specific target instead of a general guideline. My 22 m.o. could resolve to let, say, 4 seconds elapse after demanding his milk before having a tantrum because I didn’t respond fast enough. My whole family could resolve to put things back where they belong so that an hour of every day isn’t spent tearing the house apart to look for someone’s keys or red Crocs.

OK, fine. I guess I have room for improvement, too. I resolve to get less annoyed by the above behaviors, as well as others including asking for a certain type of food and then refusing that same food once it’s prepared. Or announcing on Thursday night that you had no idea the next day was the school picnic, even though it’s been on the calendar for months.

Oops, this is turning back to them, isn’t it? And I was supposed to be discussing how I could improve MYSELF. Hmmm… Well, let me think on that and get back to you. In the meantime, anyone else make any interesting resolutions this year?

LINK O’ THE WEEK: In case you missed it, registration is open NOW for fun, practical, 6-week online non-fiction writing classes with me and/or Writer Mama Christina Katz starting Jan. 12. Find out more and sign up here. Jan. classes usually fill up, so register ASAP so you don’t miss out!

New Year's, Post-Baby

You'd think I’d know better by now. New Year’s Eve is overrated at best, and an expensive, drunken disaster at worst. I’ve spent many a December 31st carousing with strangers and shivering on street corners waiting for cabs, and many a January 1st hung-over and hating life. And yet, the next year I’d buy a new outfit and do it all again.

Until I had a baby, that is. Just try finding a sitter on New Year’s. Go on, I dare you. Not to mention that hangovers and 3 a.m. feedings don’t go hand in hand.

So for the past few years, we’ve gotten together with a group of friends and stayed in. No cabs or reservations necessary, and we can bring the kids along. Sounds good in theory, right? Here’s the reality...

4 p.m., New Year’s Eve: Miles has been cranky all day. Riley is teething and whiny, and no one napped. The dog needs to be dropped off at the neighbors’, C. has to go to the liquor store, and I have to pack overnight bags for 3 people. Also, I have nothing to wear.

5 p.m.: We leave the house half an hour late. Everyone’s still cranky. We should really turn around and go home. This was a bad idea.

5:30 p.m.: Crap, I forgot to pack toothbrushes. Pit-stop at CVS.

6:15 p.m.: We arrive at our friends’ house. We haven’t seen them in ages and their kids have gotten so big! This is going to be fun.

7 p.m.: Wow, the kids are all getting along great, and they all ate their dinner. Things are off to a good start.

7:30 p.m.: The baby goes down without a fight. What were we worried about? Piece of cake!

8 p.m.: Our other friends arrive and our hostess puts out the delicious appetizers. The dads are wrangling the older kids into bed. Par-TAY!

8:30 p.m.: The children are nestled all snug in their beds, and the grown-ups are sipping prosecco and feasting on crab dip and chicken skewers. So glad we decided to come.

9 p.m.: Our other friends call with bad news – their sitter stood them up. Can you imagine?! The nerve! The mood grows somber as we mourn for our friends. Should they wake up their kids and bring them over? Should we Skype them?

9:30 p.m.: Dinner is served. Our hostess has outdone herself; the food is superb. The stories, jokes, and cocktails are flowing. I feel like my old, child-free self.

10 p.m.: “I hear somebody. Is that a kid?” It is. Ours. Miles can’t sleep because we’re being too noisy downstairs. C. goes up to tuck him back in.

11:30 p.m.: Almost midnight already? I can’t believe I stayed up this late! I don’t even feel tired.

12 midnight: Happy New Year! I need to sit down. And I better switch to water.

1 a.m.: Sooo tired... Is it lame if I’m the first one to call it a night? Maybe I can last a little bit longer...

1:30 a.m.: Our friends call a cab. Thank GOD. Now I can go to bed.

1:45 a.m.: Miles wakes up as we crawl into bed. Crap. “Go back to sleep, sweetie, it’s still nighttime.”

2 a.m.: I’m sweating and someone’s snoring. Please, please, let me fall asleep. I only have a few hours till the baby’s up.

5 a.m., New Year's Day: Riley wakes up crying. Are you KIDDING me?! I lunge for him before he wakes the whole house.

5:30 a.m.: After a half hour of the baby kicking us and clawing at our faces, C. gets up and takes him downstairs. Miles wakes up and gets into bed with me, fully awake. I feel the room spinning. This was a TERRIBLE idea.

6:30 a.m.: C. bursts in, “We have to leave NOW. This is ridiculous!” Unlike the baby, he is not well-rested and brimming with energy. I doubt I could find my own feet right now, let alone drive a car. We retreat to the basement, which is filled with every toy known to man including a life-size dinosaur.

7:30 a.m.: I am in HELL. Miles is dumping out every box of blocks he can find, while the baby finds every single toy that emits loud, electronic noises. Meanwhile, our friends and their kids sleep peacefully upstairs. What is WRONG with my kids?! How did they get the pre-dawn waking gene? And also the loud-as-hell gene??

8:30 a.m.: Our friends are up. There is coffee. Life is good.

Once back home, we spent the next 2 days recovering. I realized it’s not the staying up late part that’s hard for those of us with small children. It’s the getting up early and plunging head-first into the chaos regardless of how much you drank or how little you slept part that kills you.

Next year? I’m staying home and going to bed at 10. And watch -- that will be the year my kids sleep in. Happy New Year!

FLICK O’ THE WEEK: Looking for a cute, quirky romantic comedy? Rent “I’m Reed Fish.” I’m currently intrigued by the actress Schuyler Fisk, who it turns out is Sissy Spacek’s daughter and quite a talented young singer/songwriter. Listen to “From Where I’m Standing” on her MySpace page.

Real-Mom Resolutions

It’s that time of year, people. The time when if I were still working for a health web site I’d be crafting headlines like “New Year, New You” and “Be a 10 in 2010!” The time of year when regular gym-goers curse the well-intentioned hordes that inevitably descend on the Stairmasters. Until March, when the gym empties out again.

Well, this year I’ve decided to make REAL resolutions. You know, ones I actually WANT to achieve and maybe have a real shot at? Here goes:

Leave my children alone. What? You were expecting me to say spend more time with my kids? I already spend nearly every waking hour with them, people, and some of the sleeping ones! And I can’t be the only one who’s noticed that our offspring often behave better when Mom’s not breathing down their necks.

Case in point: Riley will be happily playing in the Exersaucer -- until he catches sight of me. Then it’s nonstop screaming and whining until I spring him loose. Similarly, Miles will amuse himself quite nicely with a book or toy in the next room, then when I walk in he’ll suddenly start acting up.

Eat more. That’s right, no carrot sticks and crash diets here. Don’t you remember, I have a built-in diet and exercise program? Besides, as an astute commenter once pointed out, mommy meltdowns are frequently caused by the all-coffee diet. You’re so busy attending to everyone else’s needs, you don’t take time to meet your own, such as food. That means protein, people, not cookies or the crusts of your kid’s PB&J!

Be nicer to my husband. This list just continues to shock and confuse, doesn’t it? I KNOW, me too!! But now that I’m (sometimes) getting a full night’s sleep and 3 meals a day, I have a new perspective. It’s easy to let civility slide when you’re in postpartum survival mode. It’s easy to snarl, “Get back to me when you’ve grown a PERSON inside your body!” when your hubby complains of a headache or a man cold.

But come on now, you’re both on the same team, right? And you must like SOMETHING about him if you made a baby with him. So I guess it won’t kill me to be a little more pleasant to C. now and then. (I just KNOW these words are going to come back to haunt me!!)

Stop sweating it. You know how sometimes someone can be inexplicably rude or mean to you? And you let it ruin your day and go over and over in your head why that person said or did that and what you did to provoke it and how you should’ve responded? Yeah, I’m going to stop doing that. It’s almost always about THEM, not YOU. Like that woman in yoga class who gave me the evil eye for putting my mat in “her” spot? Namaste, lady. You can have it.

Give myself a break. OK, this is where I get clichéd. But it’s true; I am SO much harder on myself than anyone else. Most moms I know are. So instead of focusing on the times I’ve lost my temper or fallen short of perfection, what I’m NOT doing, what I SHOULD be doing, and how I could be doing everything better, I’m going to try to give myself credit for what I AM doing. Like keeping 2 children clothed, fed, and alive day after day, for starters.

What do you think? Can I keep these up? Or will I be lunching on lattés and cursing the slow old lady in front of me at the grocery store by March? And what are YOUR New Year’s Resolutions? Do tell!

P.S. O’ THE WEEK: Another resolution, which wouldn’t fit neatly into this list, is to seek out new blogs to read regularly. No letting the media pick the “top mom blogs” for me. Here’s one, for instance, about a mom-to-be who quit her reporter job and is trying to simplify her life: Little House on the Southern Prairie. Fascinating!

Slipcovers in Lieu of Champagne

Was it really over 3 years ago that I was completely obsessed with a gingham rocking chair? Yes. Yes, it was. And you know what they say: the more things change... So here I am, 3 years later, 7 mos. pregnant, in full-on nesting mode for Baby #2, obsessing about chairs again.

Only this time it’s for Miles’ “big boy” room—previously known as the guest room—which we officially moved him into the moment my parents vacated it after Christmas. (Again, I feel bad for this new baby, who’s getting nothing but hand-me-downs. He’ll be lucky if we get around to peeling the “Miles” letters off the nursery wall. Poor thing’s destined to suffer an inferiority complex.)

So anyway, since we’re leaving the nursery as is, we realized we needed a comfy reading chair in Miles’ new room. The cracked vinyl one we had in there won’t cut it. So being the thrifty sort that I am, I looked into getting it reupholstered. Do you know what it costs to get a chair reupholstered, people? Me neither, since I never actually got a quote, but some very reliable home decorating blogs suggested it could run $300 and up. Fine, maybe, if it’s your grandmother’s antique Louis the Something chair, but for a hand-me-down destined for the Goodwill? No way.

So then I launched a lengthy web search for slipcovers. Which led to flashbacks about my college apartments and messy roommates and furniture that came from and ended up God-knows-where and always smelled slightly ... off. Next I decided a pull-out sleeper chair would be just the thing. Only twin-size ones are hard to find and the ones I did find got abominable reviews. (I tell you, Internet reviews are a mixed blessing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been on the verge of buying something, only to get sucked into that one review that says the product’s a piece of junk.)

But lo and behold, a chance trip to Homegoods this morning yielded the PERFECT chair: a denim upholstered rocker that’s the perfect color, perfect size, and perfect price, thanks to an extra 10% off for a near-invisible tear. Score!!

I swear, it’s literally unbelievable to me that I am the same person who, a scant 8 years ago, would be this excited about finding the perfect New Year’s Eve outfit. I would’ve been planning it for weeks, down to the bag and hair accessories. Right now I’d be resting up, hydrating, and primping for my Big Night Out, which I’d be looking forward to with giddy anticipation, even knowing it would end the same way New Year’s always did—with me standing shivering on a street corner in heels and bare legs, praying that just one damn cab would drive by already before our group of revelers died of hypothermia or an alcohol overdose. Good times!

But no, this New Year’s Eve I’m not polishing my nails or rehearsing the “beer before liquor” maxim. I’m thanking God my child is finally napping in his big boy bed and wondering what time Home Depot closes so I can run over there for the fifth time in 2 weeks to see whether they have 31” cordless light-blocking shades on sale. Yes, THAT, people, is what I get excited about these days. Happy New Year!!!

LINK O’ THE WEEK: Some friends, some patio furniture, and a baby monitor. Ingenious! Too bad it’s too cold for White Trash New Year’s here.