Resolve

My friend Matthew and I were recently discussing our mutual aversion to resolutions. Not just generally but those made at the end of a year that may not have completely measured up to expectations. It's not about waiting for a particular time to make a change. Just make the change. Easier said than done, certainly. But if someone thinks that come January she's going to go to the gym on a regular basis just because it's the beginning of a new year, when she didn't go to gym on a regular basis in the prior year, that's a resolution that's destined to fail. Just go to the gym. And don't wait until January to do it. And it's not about saying, I want to be healthier. That's not going to work. Make a specific and definite short term goal that you can keep. Say, "I am going to go to the gym at least 3 times each week, getting there at 6:30 and staying at least an hour." That's a goal that's manageable.

I could go on and on about this, but lucky for you, there's a wonderful blog entry on this by Penelope Trunk here. She is a brilliant and gifted writer and I would say all those things if I too were that talented. Nice thing is, I don't have to be. Penelope is. And you can read her musings right there.

Dawning of a New Age

With the holidays coming and just as quickly going, I've been feeling an intangible sense of loss. I left the house early this morning, kissing my sleeping five-year old's warm cheek and whispering endearments. As I tiptoed downstairs, I was able to pinpoint what's been melancholically hounding me. I've been grieving my son's childhood. Silly really, given that he's only five going on six. But still, witnessing his almost dogmatic belief in all things "Santa," I recognize how fleeting it all is. Each inch he grows makes me shrink a little inside. The older he gets, the less of me he'll need. The less he currently needs. I witness him slyly wiping my kisses from his cheeks (at least he still comes for kisses). I can already feel the loss of his sweet confidences, those heartfelt hugs and even his unruly tears that I've known as a first-time mom.

I'm already grieving the loss of my son.

These feelings of loss have begun to make me think of motherhood as time-limited, a vocation that requires unlimited amounts of gear; mittens with strings and zippers, car seats, bags of Cheerios. As I slowly begin to put away childish things, I worry that I will have outlived my usefulness to him. Relegating myself to just a sweet-and-sour relic of our past.

Well, fancy seeing you here!

Okay. Yes, I know it's been three years since I posted anything. I know. I know! It is a hell of a long time to go without blogging. No, I don't know why I let all that time lapse. My muse got lost somewhere between work, mothering, wife-ing (not a word, I know) and just existing. But let's not dwell on the unpleasantries. I'm back! And I'm ready to vent my opinions and frustrations out at the unsuspecting (and more importantly, uninterested) internet public once again.

You've been forewarned.