Resolutions of a Different Sort

I haven’t made resolutions in years. I pretty much have a 0% success rate in keeping them. Mostly because I somehow believe the turn of a new year will make me a morning person who likes kale and running.

But I do love what a new year represents. A time to reflect. A fresh start. A renewed hope. Three hundred and sixty-six days of possibility.

As 2016 begins, I’ve decided that I will make resolutions this year. Resolutions that don’t involve kale or running…instead, these resolutions will be a change of perspective to see the beauty in all that I already have…rather than remind myself daily of ways I don’t measure up.

In 2016,

I resolve to accept the fact that people live in my house. And as long as there are people, there will be messes.
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I will stop being surprised when I stick to the floor. I will let my kids be little and play with flour and make blanket forts. I will remember that a house well lived in is a home where my children are well loved.

And I will probably still cuss a little when I step on a Lego. Because even my new found self has limits.

I resolve to remember that a  muffin top and stretch marks are a small price to pay for growing actual humans. And my saggy boobs sustained human life for four years. The mirror was kinder to my formerly perky boobs and flat stomach. But the mirror is only reflecting what I want to see. And I choose to see that my body is a baby making machine of awesomeness.

And it’s not like my baby daddy is complaining. Ahem.

I will resolve that being a good enough mom is good enough. Even when I yell. Even when I say ugly things. Even when my kids eat chicken nuggets for the third day in a row. Even on the days that I wish away.

But I resolve to not wish the days away. Because as hard as they are, I know these are the sweetest years. I won’t enjoy every moment (I stepped in human poop yesterday), but I will see the beauty in each day. Some days are harder than others, but there is always something beautiful to behold. Their steady heartbeats. Their snaggly teeth. Their cute little booties. Their imaginations. Their questions of wonder. Their squeals of delight when Daddy walks in the door.

And on the days I do wish away, I resolve to remember that tomorrow is a new day. Not every day is rainbows and cupcakes. There will be yelling. There will be fighting. There will be snarly attitudes and unkind words. On those days, I will not rehearse all of my failures when my children finally fall asleep. I will not let a bad day tell me I am a bad mom. Instead, I will turn on some trash TV and remind myself that tomorrow is a new day.

And I will silently contemplate that having a sister wife wouldn’t be half bad.
And then go to bed because I am clearly making poor decisions.

I resolve to accept the fact that I love reality TV and, to me, the movie is always better than the book. Because the movie only takes two hours. All those precious hours I saved by not reading can be used for important tasks like Keeping Up With The Kardashians. I should probably apologize for this flaw in my character…

But this is the year I am resolving to accept who I am. Even when it’s embarrassing. Even when it’s frustrating. Every day, I resolve to get up before my kids. And one day in seven I will succeed. Every morning, I put on exercise clothes with the intention of running at some point. I run my mouth, I run the dishwasher, I run baths, I run my kids around town. So, yeah, I am a raging success at my goal to run more. Don’t get caught up in semantics, ok?!

In a world that bombards us (especially as women) with all of the ways we don’t measure up, let 2016 be the year you believe you are enough. You are more than enough. You are exactly the mom your children need…with all of your strengths, weaknesses, quirks, and pet peeves. They do not need Susie Homemaker Mom of the Year from your child’s preschool class to be their mom. They need you. You were hand picked to be your child’s mom. And no one does it better than you.

Let this be the year you resolve to accept who you are. Make peace with who you aren’t.

And let Susie Homemaker run herself ragged while you pop popcorn and see if Ben Higgins can finally find true love.






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