By Cristina Bedwell
New Year’s Eve used to be my least favorite holiday. When I was in my 20s it was filled with FOMO. Where would be the best place to go? How could we be assured to find the right place with the best mix of cool people, but not absurdly crowded? Would we pick a good place that our friends would want to meet us at? What would I wear? Keep in mind at the time I lived in New York City where a) every bar was absurdly crowded on New Year’s Eve and b) it was about ten degrees on December 31st if you were lucky, so finding something stylish and sexy yet appropriately warm was damn near impossible.
With age certainly comes wisdom, at least when it comes to the New Year. The best plans are entertaining at home with good friends and good Champagne. (And sometimes caviar)
But while I seem to have mastered New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day fills me with a disorienting mixture of hope and dread. Something about having children makes you uncomfortably aware of your own faults, mostly because you see your kids start to emulate said faults or you see the possibility that they will soon, and you’re pretty sure you won’t have kicked those bad habits by the time they are old enough to notice them.
So I approach the new year with an ever growing list of resolutions. Ways I can be better, do better. A tiny fraction of this years list includes- have more patience with my children, finish decorating their rooms, take more time for myself, be more organized with my calendar and less hesitant to commit to things, network more and meet more people in my community, exercise more, have better posture, drink more water, drink less alcohol. Are you exhausted yet? I am! And as much as I want to more forward and be better, I know having 8000 resolutions is setting myself up for failure because how could I possibly do all these things. So I look at my list and I get overwhelmed and exhausted. I think I’d rather lie on the couch and watch TV and not think about resolutions anymore.
Well, part of me is overwhelmed. And part of me is PSYCHED UP! Ready to go check things off my list. In love with the romantic idea of a fresh start. LET’S DO THIS! Let’s take 2018 by the horns! But then the realization that my kids don’t go back to school until THE NINTH slaps me in my face. There will be trips to the museum and the trampoline park and the indoor pool. A million ways to try to entertain them that I must come up with ASAP so that we aren’t staring at each other in boredom while cooped up in the house. All those resolutions suspended in the air. Projects on hold. And my resolve to get back to them will fade day by day. And again I see failure peeking over the horizon. Hopefully I can scrape my enthusiasm back together once I get some time to get stuff done.
So, hey 2018! We are off to the carousel at the mall! But I promise to drink water on the way there, ok?
P.S. New Year’s Resolution to write more. Sorry I’ve been M.I.A.