Not This New Year
Resolutions I Won’t Keep
By Holly Hester
Get in shape. No longer will I be able to use my stomach as a convenient tray for snacks while I watch TV. No longer will my son be able to hide his matchbox cars in my belly button. I’m going to exercise so much this year that a random person is going to walk up to me and say, “Wow, you look amazing. I can’t believe you’ve had three children.” I’m not above paying someone to do this.
I will be early everywhere. I will no longer leave the house every day like I’m on fire. I am going to become what is known as “one of those really annoying early people.” If you have a party, expect me to arrive while you’re still in the shower. If there’s a school assembly, I will be seated in the first chair, video camera poised and ready. And if you are late anywhere ever and I happen to witness it, I will be the very first to judge you.
I will live in an organized house. Whose house this will be, I don’t know yet. But I will find an organized person, and I will steal his or her house.
I will make meals ahead of time. No more take-out pizza on the way home from soccer. No more cereal with a side of nachos for dinner. I’m going to get one of those
gigantic freezers and stuff it full of mind-blowingly delicious homemade meals. And I’m going to make stuff really far in advance. Like I’m already making next year’s Thanksgiving dinner, some food for when my children have their own children, and some fried chicken for my own funeral. I’ll put a little sticky note on it that says, “As soon as I die, turn oven to 350 degrees. Serve with frozen side salad. Enjoy!”
fail to do it, but that’s because I try to learn something that’s too hard—like how to speak French or how to walk in high heels. So this year, I’m going to lower the bar on what I’m learning. So far, I’ve decided to learn how to spit really far, how to eat a pie with no hands, and how to burp the alphabet. Or at the very least, the vowels.
I will appreciate my husband. Sure, he might not do things exactly the way I would do them or let’s say, any sane person would do them, but hey, the guy is trying. So the next time he puts our daughter’s Olaf underwear in my underwear drawer, or gives the kids left over cake for breakfast, or let’s them ride on top of the car for “just part” of the way home, just smile and say, “Thanks, honey. I really appreciate the fact that our children are still alive and full of four thousand pounds of Twizzlers. I would love to give you a hug right now, but I’ve lost all feeling in my legs because of this size 4 underwear you put in my underwear drawer.”
I will learn something new. I know I always put this one on my list and I always
I’m going to stop biting my nails. I’m pretty sure I’m not in third grade anymore chewing the Bitter Apple off my fingertips. I’m an adult now and I can release my stress in different ways. Like drinking.
Enjoy the moment. Grocery lists, things to do lists, resolution lists…Moms make so many lists. Lists are necessary, but they can distract from the moment we’re living in right now. And that moment is perfect. So my only real resolution this year is to enjoy each and every beautiful, funny, imperfect moment I have.
And possibly get in shape. Have a happy, happy New Year. Holly Hester lives in Sebastopol and writes about life on her blog, Riot Ranch. Find her book, Escape from Ugly Mom Island!, on Amazon.
January 2016 www.sonomafamilylife.com