I am not a New Year's resolutioner. New Year's Eve is actually my least favorite holiday by a mile (hordes of people with the expectation of lots of midnight hugs and kisses is basically as bad as it gets for a tried and true introvert like myself). No, the start of a new year doesn't foster in me a need to commit to planning for bigger, better, greater things ... but shouldn't it? Shouldn't I list out five goals on a sheet of paper, so I can say that I, too, have big plans for 2016?
I could vow less screen time for our household, but since Nathan already watched an episode or two of Wild Kratts this morning while I thumbed through my Instagram and Facebook feeds ... and my daughter is parked in front of the iPad as I type this, that one is already busted. I could strive to eat better or workout more, but then I'd feel guilty about the cheeseburger I had for lunch and probably the pajama pants that I'm still wearing well past noon, too. I could promise to write every day or return texts more quickly or travel more.
But I'm nothing if not honest, and I don't like to make promises that won't be kept. Being a better me is a lofty goal ... maybe too lofty, for where I'm at right now. I think, for this year, I'll settle for being MORE me. For embracing myself, with all my flaws. For making peace with my post-kids, post-3o body. For marveling at what I can still do and letting go of what I'll never do (or wear) again. I think I'll own my personality too, rather than wishing I was more outgoing, more gentle, more patient. I do quiet and serious quite well, and like to be a safe place for friends who need to talk and confide. My impatience ensures that the slower-moving members of my family aren't too terribly late when it counts. And I may never be truly gentle and kind, but there's no better teacher than tender hearts and minds.
The other day I was making pancakes, and Nathan came up and wrapped his arms around my legs and said in all seriousness, "You're the best Mom I've ever had." I chuckled and reminded him that I was also the only Mom he's ever had ... so didn't that also make me the worst? But he just shook his head and said, "Nope ... just the best."
I'm under no illusions that I'll ever be the best mom. I lose my temper and hide in the bathroom sneaking chocolates far too often for that. But maybe this is the year I own being THEIR best mom. Accepting that God gave them to me - and I to them - with a plan and a purpose in mind.
So no, 2016 won't see a better me. There will be no new and improved; no list of goals to check my way through. But it will, God-willing, see me be myself. I'll love my people and let myself be loved by them.
It will be a good year.