It’s National “Run it up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes” Day

Happy New Year. Last month was extremely difficult to exist through, let alone be creative enough to post entries to my award-winning blog. Okay, so I’m not really winning any awards for my creative writing efforts, but Ben says I’m the best mom ever. That’s award enough for me.

I’ve toyed with the idea of making “writing an entry every single day” my New Year’s Resolution, but I’m of the mindset that if I HAVE to, then I won’t do it. I think they call that being passive-aggressive. Plus, today is January 2nd, so I would have to admit that I’ve already failed less than 48 hours into the new year. That’s no way to start off a new year let alone a new decade, so I will continue to post entries whenever I feel like it.

What other changes could I pursue for the new year? Well, I have plenty of poor behaviors to choose from, so it shouldn’t be difficult to find something to alter. After all, I just (within the past two minutes) washed down my anti-depressants with my daily dose of Mtn. Dew. I’m not a fan of coffee so, since college, I’ve fulfilled my desire to be caffeine-infused with one 12 oz can of Mtn. Dew first thing in the morning. It has to be a can. It has to be cold. But really, if I’m out (which I believe to be a National emergency) then I will certainly stoop to digging out a half-empty 20 oz bottle from under the car seat and inhaling like a crack-addict. I know. Sad, but true.

As I type, my ice-cold Mtn. Dew is exhibiting signs of stress. Beads of sweat are slinking down the exterior walls of the can, much like a criminal being questioned under harsh lighting. Oh, don’t worry, my love. You are my muse. You get me through my day. I will not give you up. You’re safe. You’re loved. I will never let you go. At least not until my teeth rot out from the copious amounts of sugar I ingest at your behest (yes, you command me to drink you) on a daily basis. But by that point, who cares? Like REO Speedwagon so eloquently stated in their 1981 power ballad, “I’m gonna keep on lovin’ you. Cuz it’s the only thing I wanna do. I don’t wanna sleep (mostly because of the high dosage of caffeine). I just wanna keep on lovin’ you.”

I guess there are other things I could change – like my passive-aggressive behavior – but I’m just so good at it. I am excellent at clinging to my emotional pitfalls yet run like hell from any positive reinforcement. I think this particular schism of the passive-aggressive disorder is called discontented negativism. I mean, I’ve worked so hard at being good at this particular trait… hey. Wait. That statement in itself should make me want to drop my disorder like a hot potato. I think I’ll crack another Mtn. Dew and ponder that.

I can’t change overnight what took 40+ years to “perfect”. This is why New Year’s resolutions are preposterous. We think “fresh start” or “clean slate”, when in actuality we get that opportunity each and every day. As we learned in the minor film classic “What about Bob”, we need to take Baby Steps. Thinking of the New Year as our launch pad to being a better person is setting ourselves up to fail. Telling ourselves we’re going to exercise more or write every day or learn Spanish or get organized or read all the classics or watch less tv or wake up earlier or pay it forward more often – just because it’s the New Year – is an exhausting endeavor. I think New Year’s Resolutions should be banned. Let’s run that idea up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes it.

But really, why change anything at all? As I’m sitting here in my t-shirt and flannel pants, hair pulled back in a messy pony-tail, yesterday’s mascara embedded in my 40+ skin, Ben says “Mom, you couldn’t be more beautiful.” Who am I to argue with that?

Happy New Year. Make today count.

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