Bah Humbug to you if you are one of those people that has your Christmas tree sitting on your curb, waiting for garbage pickup day.
Because I? Am still heavily ensconced in Christmas bliss.
The celebrations continue for us with family this week, and we are soaking up the joy of the season.
Then, there is the little matter of the new year that is barreling toward us at full speed. Traditionally, I have never been a huge fan of New Year's Eve or New Year's Day. Oh yes, they are fun holidays, and I know the calendar must march forward and continue on its never-ending journey into perpetuity. I get that. I'm cool with that. But thinking about it too much hurts my brain and causes huge bouts of self-reflection. Sometimes I like what I see. Sometimes I don't. Regardless, the new year is that huge reminder blaring in your ear of, “YO! IT'S 2011 NOW! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?”
And I'm all, “Well, thanks for asking New Year. I've done a lot.”
But New Year is all, “Yeah, but you didn't do this and you didn't do that, and last year you said you would."
And I'm all, “Whatever, New Year. I accomplished many things over the last year.”
And New Year is all, “But you didn't organize the basement like you said you would. Didn't you dub 2010, 'The Year of Organization'? What makes you think this year will be any different?”
And I'm all, “Well, New Year, I did organize the office the office last year. The shredder and I became homies. So there's that.”
And New Year is all, “But you said you would work out more. You worked out maybe 25 times over the whole year. Also, the last time I checked, those upper arms of yours are barely strong enough to open a pickle jar, and you promised yourself you'd get some cute little arm muscles. But those? Are embarrassing.”
And I'm all, “NUH-UH, New Year! Vacuuming and loading the dishwasher totally count as working out! By that count, it means I worked out about eleventy kajillion times this year. Aaand if you squint and tilt your head sideways, you can totally see the muscles in my upper arms!”
And New Year is all, “Well, your resolutions last year were laughable. LAUGH. A. BLE. Resolutions, schmesolutions. Good luck this year, chump!”
And I'm all, “Dude. New Year. You talk way too much. Shut it. Enough with your tooting horns and your confetti, and your huge lighted ball drops. Can't you just begin quietly and not slap us all in the face with the reminder that time marches on and we have this one life to accomplish it all?”
2011 is coming. This year my resolutions will be different.
I have precisely two of them.
- To keep on keeping on. I love my family and friends and I love my life. It is full and fun and wonderful. Why rock the boat? Sure, I can always better myself, and I do. But I am NEVER going to be that person that works out 365 days a year, so I need to stop pretending that I am her and she is me. It's all about realistic expectations, and not beating myself up when I don't meet them.
- To finally start writing the book I have dreamed of writing for years.
I know! How cliché! A blogger who wants to write a book! Shocking!
Knocked you over with a feather on that one, huh?
I majored in Elementary Education in college, and in my former life, I was a grade school teacher. One of my college classes was on how to teach language arts in the elementary classroom. This particular class was taught by a professor who was dynamic and energetic and kind. She possessed all the qualities that you look for in a person that must stand in front of you two days a week and lecture you for a few hours. She was a dream teacher. Her lectures were riveting and interesting; therefore, winning her respect and approval was essential to me. When she assigned us the task of writing a book for children on any topic, I took on the challenge with fervor. To this day, it was my favorite and my most memorable assignment of all my years of schooling. Ever. I wrote a small children's book, and although I am not an artist or drawer in any way, shape or form, I drew simple pictures to go along with it. Happy with the results, I couldn't to see what the good Doctor, my professor, would think.
A few weeks passed, and she finally had them graded and ready to return to us. I waited in anticipation as she called my name. Nervous to see what she thought of it, I flipped to the back page, where she had attached a note with her assessment. I will never forget what she wrote. "This is EXCELLENT. You should look into getting this published!"
With those few words, my heart soared.
Her street cred puffed my ego. After all, this woman has a doctorate, and in particular, she studied children's literature. Her judgment meant the world to me.
Did I get it published?
Did I even try to get it published?
I graduated from college, taught grade school, got married, started having babies, and the book still sits in its Rubbermaid container down in my basement, untouched for the last 15 years.
In 2011, I will start to write a book again. Because I promised myself. Because I owe it to myself to at least try. Because even if I fail, and my book never sees a single bookshelf in a single store in the whole country, at the very least, I can say to my family, "See this book? I wrote it."
My resolution is to start writing that book. I never said I would finish it this year. I will try, but I can't make that kind of promise to myself. After all, I am kind of busy with the tasks that go along with my real job title, "Queen of The Land of My Four Shorties".
But I will try.
Realistic expectations, y'all.
Wishing you a wonderful, happy 2011. I am beyond grateful to each and every one of you that come to this page and read my words and comment on my posts. I am humbled and amazed by this wonderful community of bloggers and readers that I discovered when I started writing a blog.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.