Resolve

In retrospect, 2011 was a hard year.


While there are, of course, no guarantees that one year will be markedly better than the previous, I am entering 2012 with a great deal of hope and anticipation. Or, maybe it's that I'm just glad to put 2011 in my rear-view mirror.

Glen and the kids and I are well into our second year of the commuter family arrangement that we voluntarily entered in November 2010. It hasn't gotten any easier, but it most certainly has not gotten any worse. Trite though it may sound, I have found that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, that our time together as a family is much more precious and important, and that while we remain incredibly and impossibly busy regardless of whether we are together or apart, every moment is a gift.

Yes, 2011 was a difficult year; we witnessed friends being diagnosed with terrible illnesses and endure long hospitalizations; we've seen lives taken away at an incredibly young and horribly untimely ages; and, like pretty much everyone else, we're managing our fair share of economic challenges, thanks in no small part to unanticipated car problems and other life expenses. Among these struggles, it's often easy to discount some of the smaller victories that we've been blessed with this year, as well: the kids are in amazing health, love their schools, and (as far as we can tell) are happy, well-adjusted, and bright-eyed. Glen and I are gainfully employed, happy to be working, and very good at what we do. David's musical talents have absolutely exploded; he loves to perform for his friends, he loves his drum and guitar lessons, and his self confidence has grown in tandem with his musical prowess. Elizabeth, it would appear, is ready to jump into the academics and scholarship with the same (if not more) amount of gusto that David did, and celebrates her inner princess/ballerina/diva with tremendous aplomb. More than ever this year, we've been reminded of just how fantastic our friends and neighbors are. And, did I mention that the kids are healthy?

So it is in this spirit that I offer up my short but meaningful list of personal resolutions for 2012. None of them involve anything that will remotely establish lasting world peace, identify a cure for disease, or identify an even modestly reasonable GOP presidential contender. But, with luck, they will make an impact on the people who are most important to me in the whole wide world: Glen, David and Elizabeth.

1. Better living through the $.99 store - No, I'm not kidding. There is much to be gained for clipping coupons, reading the circulars (you know, those newspaper-type things that come in the mail that I typically and indiscriminately toss aside), and hunting for bargains. I'm not looking to save thousands upon thousands of dollars. Rather, I'm just seeking a brand new groove when it comes to how I spend my hard-earned money.

2. Make the house a place I want to hang out in - Glen has often correctly noted that while his idea of relaxing and unwinding is to hang out at the house,  mine is to get out of the house. I admit that I'm a big fan of window shopping and store browsing. But we both find this pattern to be curious. And, relating back to resolution number 1 (see above), it's a pattern that is not necessarily conducive to finding and maintaining economic Zen. So, what is it about the house that I need to change, or alter, in order to make it my own personal get-away? I realized about a week ago, that the layout of our house, and the furniture within it, is such that there is no good place to sit down and kick back within the vicinity of where David and Elizabeth usually play. We have, for example, a pool table in the loft area on our second floor. It's in this space where David and Elizabeth do some of their best playing with Legos, Barbies, etc. Their bedrooms are rather small, so they don't have a whole lot of room for imaginative play. But there's also no space for a comfortable chair for me to sit in and from which I can enjoy my kids enjoying their childhood. We're not sure we're ready to part with the pool table, but Glen and I both know that, if home is where the heart is, then there must be a solution. Do not get me wrong: the fact that we have a roof over our heads, and lovely furnishings within the walls we call our home, is a gift and a blessing. I am grateful for this in and of itself. I need to get to know my own home better, and become one with it.

3. Really, do I NEED to be this busy? - Those who know me well that I am the type who raises my hand to volunteer before the neurons have fully synapsed in my brain and enabled me to consider the consequences of such actions. True, most of the things I volunteer to do tend to be 1) for David and/or for Elizabeth, and 2) ultimately a lot of fun. But the fact that I spend so much time responding to David and Elizabeth's requests to play with a stern, "not now!" or "I don't have time!" or "can't you see I'm busy?!?!?" is not lost on me. It bothers me. I hope that 2012 will be the year in which I find the balance between what absolutely must get done at any given time, and what can wait until later.

4. (Re)consider the food I put into my mouth - While browsing through the January 2012 issue of Real Simple, I came across a write up of the book, The Kind Diet, written by Alicia Silverstone (yes, the actress of "Clueless" fame). While Ms. Silverstone clearly has a social and political agenda (which includes making clear her distrust and dislike of the Dairy Council, the meat and poultry industries, and anything else that has to do with the processing, selling, or consuming of any product that comes from animals), she makes a terrific case for eating more grains, more veggies, more fruits, and more non-meat products. To be fair, it's highly likely that the recipes included in her book are available to Ms. Silverstone primarily because she can afford a personal chef; the ingredients of many are entirely foreign to me. But, when she begins espousing the benefits of a greener diet, she makes sense. So much so that, when Glen and the kids and I went to Elephant Bar with Glen's brother and his two daughters, I found myself looking for menu options that were loaded with green stuff.  It is highly unlikely that 2012 will be the year in which I eschew white flour, cheese, refined sugar, and diet Coke. But it may be the year that I learn to cook with more beans, try a bit of tofu, and put more veggies on David and Elizabeth's plates, regardless of whether or not they eat them. We shall see.

5. Game night at home - Last night, Glen and David and I played two rounds of the classic board game "Clue." Not only had I forgotten how much fun that game is, but I also forgot how nice it is to have an evening that doesn't involve doing homework and laundry, and that has a high entertainment value at NO cost. Now, granted, I can only focus on games on the Wii console for a limited period of time, if for no other reason than this is an activity that Elizabeth is just not quite old enough to engage in (but, OH how she wants to!).

6. Play time - Related to resolutions number 3 and 5 (above), I lament the fact that I've become too old to play with Barbie dolls in the imaginative and carefree way that I could when I was around Elizabeth's age. Back then, I could make up stories and scenarios with my dolls that could entertain me for hours. Now ... not so much. I get way too wrapped up in the mess that these fashion-forward dolls, with their copious accessories, make throughout the house. But, isn't that the point? Are not toys intended for kids to use and go nuts with? And, I'd be fibbing if I were to deny the fact that I still enjoy combing the synthetic hair that is weaved on to each Barbie doll's plastic scalp. That is almost meditative. That, and getting them dressed. I desperately want to chill out about the messes the kids make, and relish the fact that we're giving them a life that enables them to love and cherish their childhood. And I want to relax enough to play with them more.

7. Spend less time on the computer - Yeah, right. For heaven's sake, that's not going to happen.