The Burbs

Life since February has revolved around moving.  Staging, showing, selling, buying, packing, enduring a nightmarish closing process thanks to Wells Fargo Home Mortgage (never, NEVER again), loading, unloading, cleaning, unpacking and collapsing.

We are becoming more settled all the time, but I still don't feel quite at home here.  For as much as I was ready to move, I still find myself pining away for our old, too-small house and "transitional" urban neighborhood.  I realize that to most people a house built in 1968 is pretty old, but coming from a house built in 1909, we are in a whole new world.

As I grow accustomed to our new environment, I have experienced many moments of confusion and wonder. Here are a few of my recent ponderings:

1.  Sidewalks

Why are there no sidewalks in the suburbs?  There are so many people out on the street walking, biking, scootering, pogo-sticking, etc.  Did sidewalks somehow go out of fashion in the 1960's?

2.  Lawn/Yard Maintenance

Ok, I know its cliche, but why are people so obsessed with their lawns?  Ours needs A LOT of work and I do want it to look nice, but why was the guy across the street mowing his lawn in the rain?  Is there some sort of regulatory agency we have yet to learn about?  Thankfully, we haven't received any threats yet...

3.  Fencing

Where are all the fences?  I never thought I'd miss our ugly chain link fence, but I just don't feel comfortable with our lack of physical separation from the neighbors.  At least we finally figured out that single guy next door did not mow the maze into his back lawn to lure small children into his house.  We were quite relieved when one night we saw him and his friends maneuvering through the maze dressed as ghosts, while a young woman with a yellow basket ran around picking up golf balls.  No, he's not a predator, just a dorky guy with a life-sized Pac-Man game in his backyard. But, I still think I would feel a little better with a fence...

4.  Trash Collection

Single-sort recycling is flat out awesome, but our first trash day caused me much distress.  Why did everyone have their trash bin on one side of their driveway and the recycling bin on the other? I stood in the driveway trying to look casual while scanning the houses on both sides of the street to determine if there was a pattern governing can placement.  After all, I didn't want to be the stupid newbie who didn't even know how to take out the trash.  Then it finally dawned on me.  Its kind of difficult to get your car out of your attached garage if both bins are on one side of your driveway...

5.  Electrical Wiring

Outlets every six feet in every room, how can this be?  What will I do with our giant box of extension cords?  And when vacuuming (which due to the lack of hardwood floors takes me about an hour), which outlets should I choose to give me maximum cord distance?  Perplexing.

6.  Light Switches

Old house - 8 wall switches (counting the old-fashioned push buttons by the front door).  New house - 29 wall switches.  I wonder, how much electricity do I waste daily turning on and off lights because I can't remember which switch controls which light?  And switches for outlets that allow you to turn a lamp on and off from the wall...wow.

7.  Closets

Old house - 3 closets.  New house - 8 closests + 3 storage cabinets.  Ahhhhh...empty space.  I would never have thought it possible.  Now I must guard against the dark forces that will not rest until they have filled every shelf, drawer and crevice with crap.

8.  Living Spaces

In our old house we had one living room which was generally used for entertaining, TV watching, playing, coloring, play dough (this one made mommy less than happy), laundry folding, computer working, crazy dancing, ninja practice, etc.  Our new house has three - a formal living room, an upstairs family room and a downstairs family room and playroom.  This is an absolute luxury for us.  The kids, however, are very confused when I tell them "its in the living room" or "I'm in the family room".  Poor Emory sometimes takes to wandering around confusedly until I say "Sweetie, its the room with the red couch."

9.  Neighbors

Why are strangers bringing us baked goods and stopping us on the street to make conversation?  I must remind myself that they are trying to be welcoming, and no, they are most likely not sizing up our house for some sort of heist.

Yes, we moved 6.3 miles up the road and I feel as if we've entered a whole new dimension.  But, I am optimistic that as time goes on we will feel more at home.  And, while there is a lot that I miss, I am pretty darn happy here.

Abandon All Sleep, Ye Who Enter Here

I think Dante had it wrong.  There may well be a tenth circle of hell:  the affliction of the two-year molars.

And so I give you a tale of misery in the wee hours of the morning.

Prologue -  It is 8:30 pm and all is well.  Two little boys are sleeping peacefully, the youngest sated with the appropriate dose of ibuprofen.  A father and mother are happily, well more like resignedly, washing dishes and folding laundry.  Lulled into a false sense of security, the parents will stay up too late; one reading geeky science articles on his ipad and the other writing a fairly useless blog post.


12:30 am - With too little sleep yet accomplished, we awake to cries of "Need My Mommy!" that quickly build to a intolerable level.  Realizing that neither of us is fooling the other by feigning sleep, we quickly negotiate who will "take this one".  Hoping to give me a much needed break, Bill heads in.

12:45 am - Bill returns from the from the den of our screaming child saying, "He bit me!".  But, not yet ready to give up, he regroups and goes in for another round.

1:00 am - Oliver wakes up and begs, "Please make it stop!" He flees from the racket and dashes down the hall and into bed with me.  We huddle together and try to tune out Emory's cries.

1:15 am - Bill continues in vain to soothe Emory.  I hear him repeating the phrase, "you can rock with Daddy or get back in your crib", like a mantra.  But Emory is not having any of it.  He begins to emit a sound that can only be compared to the oink of an angry pig, causing Oliver and I to giggle. Bill is not amused.

Somewhere between 1:30 and 2:30 am - Oliver and I somehow manage to fall asleep.  Poor Bill continues to battle with our little one, until he (Emory) finally falls asleep as well.

2:30 am - Bill tries to get back into bed but is discouraged by the kicks of the wriggling little boy who has taken his place.  He heads downstairs to sleep on the couch.

3:00 am - Emory wakes up AGAIN and Bill repeats his efforts to soothe the child.  I would have stepped in at this point, but somehow, ignoring all motherly instincts, I have managed to block out the cries and sleep on.

Around 4:00 am - Bill heads back downstairs to his makeshift bed on the couch.

5:15 am - The screams begin yet again and this time I respond.  As I rock and rock...and rock my child, a feeling of dread washes over me.  I have just realized that Emory is not going to back to sleep.  Oh no...

5:45 am - I return him to his crib anyway and, as expected, he announces that he is ready to "get up now!". I try to reassure him that it is still nighttime and time to sleep, but he senses the fear in my voice and calls my bluff.  Unable to get him to even sit down in his bed, I toss in a couple of books and a flashlight.  Hoping that this will entertain him for just a few minutes, I sneak away as quickly as I can.

6:20 am - Fresh cries of "Need My Mommy!" blast through my fledgling dreams.  Bill springs Emory from his crib, and he launches himself down the hall and into bed with Oliver and I.  Then, we hear the words we least want to hear after the night we've had:  "Let's play superhero!".  Even Oliver, always ready for a good game of Spider man and Super Baby, throws the covers back over his head.  But he's a good sport and eventually crawls out to don his cape and join is brother.

6:30 to 7:00 am - Clinging to my pillow for dear life, I am pummeled by little feet and deafened by gleeful shrieking.  I am completely disoriented by the incongruity of the present scene with the turmoil of the past night, but reluctantly crawl out of bed.

7:30 am - Tired and frustrated, I allow my children to eat popsicles before breakfast.


This scenario has played itself out in varying degrees, nearly every night for the past month.  Poor Emory has never been a great sleeper but this teething thing has pushed him (and us) over the edge.  Unfortunately, I am going to have to resume my many nightly peregrinations to and from the rocking chair.  Emory loves his Daddy, but can't be comforted by him at night.  Given the amount of screaming heard in our house last night, now is clearly not the time to make a change.  I comfort myself with the knowledge that this will pass, but in the meantime, heaven help us.

The No TV Week Results

Our boys spent a week without TV, and a lovely week it was.  I expected there to be some change in the kids' behavior, but it was more significant than I had imagined.  We don't allow the kids to watch a lot of TV in the first place, so I'm surprised at the impact its removal had on the kids.

I told the boys up front about the plan and they were okay with it.  I explained that it wasn't punishment, but a chance to spend more time together.  Surprisingly, for the entire week, they never whined or begged for TV.  Oliver asked for it a couple of times, but then said, "Oh right, we're not having TV this week."  The absence of whining about wanting to watch TV and disagreements about what to watch was blissful. I think that by simply removing the temptation, the kids' attention naturally turned to other things.

I was ready with a few more activities than usual.  During the hour each day when they would have been watching TV, we made a giant valentine for Daddy, played with play dough, painted and made homemade pizza.  These are things we do anyway, but I was more intentional in planning our time. But what surprised me most was that it wasn't just the activity for "TV time" itself that changed; the boys played better together all week. Emory became really caught up in pretend play for the first time and we had deep sea divers, superheroes and villains running rampant in the halls.  I really enjoyed watching them play "Daddy and Baby".  Seeing your 2 year-old try to carry your 5 year-old around the house is pretty amusing.

I did have to give up that little time for myself that I usually get in the afternoons when the kids are watching TV.  This was a kind of hard and I really didn't get a whole lot done during the week.  But, the kids played so well together that I didn't feel too frazzled.  I think I was a more positive and patient with the boys than I normally am. We must have been feeding off each other's good energy.  Bill says that he could also see a difference in the kids when he came home from work - they were much less whiny and temperamental.

Well, we did let the kids have some TV time again this weekend.  Bill and I have both been sick with the most persistent cold ever, and we really did need the distraction.  Unhappily, as soon as the TV came back, the kids began whining for more when it was time to shut it off...

So, now we have to figure out what role we will allow the TV to have in our home from this point forward.  I think I am okay with the kids watching a little TV in the afternoon, provided the whining and fighting do not escalate again.  But, I also want to have lots of days without TV so that no one begins to rely on it again.  I don't have a problem eliminating it and I think the kids know that now.  All in all, it was a very worthwhile experiment and I feel a just little bit better about my parenting skills as a result.

TV Silence

I'd like to think that I always make sound parenting choices.  Wouldn't we all?  However, when I make a conscious effort to be more self-aware, I see some things I'm not too happy about.  The TV viewing habit of my kids is one of them.

I am not naive about evils of the almighty TV and I know what the research says.  I've seen it suck my kids in, slow their brain waves to a near vegetative state and spit them back out again cranky and wanting more.  It does not fit into the picture of what I want my kids' life to be like at home.  Don't misunderstand me, we do lots of good stuff together and the kids have the ability to entertain themselves, which I think is a highly underrated skill in children today, but I do feel like I rely on a little too much on TV.

It started out so well - a little bit of TV in the afternoon once nap/quiet time was done.  Just enough to provide a little peace for me and a treat for the kids.  But our little friends Super Why, Diego, Arthur and Elmo, are slowly creeping more and more into our days.  15 minutes here because Em is fussy and I need to make lunch, 20 minutes there because I really need to make a phone call.  Then there are the days when one of the kids or I am sick and TV is the easiest way to keep everyone calm and happy.

I know that its supposedly "educational" programming, but the nagging feeling that it has too much of a hold over my kids won't go away.  The more they watch, the more they want.  And now I'm seeing the kids squabble over who gets to pick the show or video.  Its cute when Emory says "watch something else, its too boring for me", but this isn't something I really want to hear.  Something that started out so innocently is making my kids less kind to each other and more demanding towards Bill and I.  TV should be a privilege, not a right, and I don't think that we are always reflecting that in our home.

So, I'm going stop shaking my head and feeling bad about my parenting skills, and pull the plug.  Starting today, the kids will be TV-free for a week.  I am curious to discover what changes this brings about for our family.  I suspect there will be more gained than just an end to TV-induced begging and whining.  I will have to be a little more present and prepared, but that is good for me too.

I'm off to see if the paints are dried up, search under the couch for missing puzzle pieces and make a fresh batch of playdough.  Hopefully we'll greet next weekend with a healthier outlook on TV.  Those cute cartoon faces aren't fooling me anymore.

Acting My Age

Just the other day, Bill stuck something in front of my face to read and as I jerked my head back to allow my eyes to focus on the text, I had a sudden memory of my mom doing just the same thing when I was little.  At the time I remember thinking, "Wow, if she can't read that, she is really getting old".  Oh great, here we go.

I have been thinking a lot about age lately. Namely, my perception of my own age.  I seem to have this lingering impression that I am still in my late twenties. I don't base this so much on how I look or feel physically, but on some kind of cognitive conception, or rather misconception, of my maturity level.  My brain seems to have stalled out somewhere after grad school.  That was a time when we were just scraping by - all grown up but not yet making it in the world as "grown ups".  I have never been able to quite shake that feeling.

I think I must be confusing put-togetherness with chronological age.  When I see a woman who looks and acts very polished, I usually assume that she is older than me.  I'm usually wrong of course.  I guess I keep thinking that when I'm really a grown up, I will have my act together too.  As it is, some days I am surprised by the fact that I actually have kids and am responsible for caring for them!  Aren't I still too young and immature for that?  I'm sure my parents felt like grown ups, right?

But, life is full of reality checks.  Our babysitter is a college sophomore and I feel like I can talk with her like I am semi "with it".  Yeah, cuz I'm a young, hip mom and I'm not so far out of college myself.  Then I realize that its been 10 years since I graduated, I am 16 years older than her and frankly I'm not so okay with leggings after living through the 80's, which was BEFORE SHE WAS BORN!  I guess I'm not very cool after all (is it still cool to say "cool"?).  And, every time I get up in the morning feeling achy and tired- which is most days lately, since I have a teething toddler who can't seem to make it for more than 3 hours at night without me at - I feel betrayed by my body.  You are only as old as you feel? That does me zero good.

And so, I slowly feel the concept of my real age creeping into my head.  But its not all bad.  I am starting to shake off that struggling, insecure, post-graduate student feeling.  We're getting ready to sell our house and upgrade to something a little more grown up.  You know, more than one bathroom and not in a neighborhood where the foot traffic that passes by us in route to the bus stop is a source of new and colorful language for our children.  As I look online at pictures of houses in our price range, I feel a sense of wonderment at the thought that we could actually be mature enough to live in those places.

I know that I may never have my act together enough to feel like a grown up.  Maybe no one really does.  But, I'm learning that its not really about acting my age, its about embracing where I'm at in my life.  I like it here and I look forward to all that is to come.

Worth the Wait

We recently purchased a little Apple TV box and a Netflix subscription and its amazing to have so many choices for things to watch in our cable/satellite-free house.  The kids have every episode of Super Why and Diego to pick from at TV time, and Bill and I are working our way through the entire Star Trek: Next Generation series (super geeky I know, but it reminds us of our youth).  Having all this media at our fingertips has given me a little pause for thought - not just about the temptation to watch more TV, but the possible deeper implications of the quick-access technology that I love so well.

I generally find waiting to be a pain.  This is why I love shopping and banking online and having my iphone, with access to the whole world, in my pocket.  I know that this instant access can be a dangerous thing - sucking away our time on facebook, enticing us with even better technology (there is an ipad out there somewhere with my name on it...) and enabling us to fill every second of the day with something, just because its there.  But, more than that, I've begun to wonder about the loss of the wait itself.

By bypassing the "wait", what could we be missing? Every time we take care of something online, we could be missing the chance to interact with real people.  Who knows when you might make a meaningful connection with someone?  Waiting gives us tiny blank spaces in our day that could be used for philosophizing, self-reflection or day dreaming.  Waiting also gives you the opportunity to really appreciate something. Think about when you used to wait for an album to be released and then making the trip to the music store to buy it.  Remember the magic of unsealing it and pouring over the liner notes for the first time?  Downloading music is so convenient, but very lackluster in my opinion.

Even more significant, I think we may be losing the ability to live gracefully in the gray areas of life.  Waiting 9 months to learn the sex of your baby (we didn't), staying up all night with your sick child without the ability to diagnose him via the internet, waiting to share good or bad news without the instant convenience of a cell phone - these are all opportunities to develop inner strength, listen to our intuition, relinquish control, increase our faith in God and rely on others for support.  

Sadly, I find that when I do have to wait for something, without the comfort of researching or expediting the process via technology, I don't handle it well.  With my haste to give up waiting, I have lost patience for the times when I really need it. 

I don't see myself giving up my cell phone or cancelling our internet service anytime soon, but I do hope to make an effort to let myself wait and wonder more. Who knows what I may discover when I do?

Into the Deep End

Under the clear blue water, I watch the neat stripe of green tiles curve slowly as they descend into the deep end.  I hear only my breath and the faint sounds of my limbs disrupting the surface of the water.  I feel only the coolness that surrounds me, the burn in my muscles and the pounding of my heart.  I think only of the mechanics of my movements; no extraneous thoughts distract me.  I have become a swimmer.  I don't claim to be very good at it, but I've recently come to the conclusion that if you are doing something regularly, you earn the right to attach it to your identity.  

Give me a yoga or pilates mat any day, but put me in a pair of running shoes and I'll run straight to the couch.  I simply don't enjoy most forms of cardiovascular fitness. The thought of working out amidst a sea of exercisers, bobbing up and down on stairsteppers, eliptical machines and treadmills at the gym (check out Out of My Comfort Zone for the story of my gym-joining fiasco), is enough to make me head for the nearest exit. So, thinking that swimming might be a better option, I began taking adult lessons in October.  I already knew how to swim, at least I did when I completed my lessons at the age of 14, but since it had been 20+ years since I'd actually propelled myself down the length of a lap pool, I thought I could use a refresher course.  Getting into the water for that first trial of crawl stroke under the watchful eye of my instructor was a feat in and of itself, but I discovered that it was kind of like riding a bike.  I did sort of remember how.

After a couple of months of lessons and reading on the subject, I have been swimming laps on a regular basis (except for a little hiatus in December...).  It is very hard work, but rewarding in ways that I would not have guessed.  You can't fake it in the pool, its just plain painful when you're out of practice (it is still painful each and every time for me), but you can really see your progress.  As I count the tiles at the end of the lane to keep track of  my laps, I'm amazed to see my numbers grow with each workout.  That sense of accomplishment is a gift in the midst of my harried days with the kids.  When I get to the end of most days, I realize that I didn't finish what I set out to do - it seems I make efforts in every direction, but don't end up completing anything.  I know that this is a side effect of life with small children, but it slowly chips away at my sense of self worth.  On the days that I swim, I have one little achievement to tuck away in my mind and draw strength from when I'm feeling defeated.

But for me, the most seductive part of swimming is the quiet.  No one is talking or whining or screaming or pulling on me.  There is no technology to distract me - my iphone is safely locked away.  Its just me in my unflattering fitness suit, blue swim cap and goggles.  And for the first time, I don't really care if anyone is watching me.

I have found my bliss in the quiet blue water.  Where will you find yours?

A View from the Play Dough Tower

We waited nearly a decade before starting a family and it was a good choice for us.  It enabled me to stay home with the kids, and I think I was much more secure in my parenting choices than I would have been had I had my kids when I was younger.  Though now, with a 2 year-old in the house and my 36th birthday looming,  I wonder if I would be a little less tired and crabby if I were 25...

Regardless, my husband and I had many years to observe other families with small children and formulate distinct opinions about what parents should and should not do.  Of course, with about 16 years of higher education between the two of us, how could we help but be more enlightened?  Well, over the last five years we have developed an affinity for the taste of crow.

And so, I give you my list of all the things I said I would not do, but of course have done:
1.  "I will never drive a minivan"
We caved and purchased our van before Emory was even born.  The suicide doors on our Honda Element were not ideal for car seats.

2.  "I will not feed my children 'kid food', they will eat what we do"
At age two, when Oliver's favorite cuisine was Indian, we knew he would never be a picky eater.  Unfortunately, by the time he was three, his food faves had devolved to pasta, pb&j, and hotdogs (at least we bought nitrate-free).   

3. "We will never listen to kiddie music"
The only CD's in my car right now are kids' CD's.   I have become somewhat of a kids' music connoisseur and have discovered some awesome artists.  I admit that I frequently catch myself still listening to the kid stuff when they aren't in the car.

4. "I will not let our kids play with electronic toys"
Uh, that lasted maybe 6 months.  Not something we encourage, but simply unavoidable.

5.  "I will never use the TV as a babysitter"
I do monitor the TV pretty carefully, but come on, it works so well in a pinch.

6. "I will not yell at my kids"
No comment.

7. "I will never open a box or bag of food in the store before I have purchased it"
Its only happened a couple of times, honest.  Fussy children have a way of altering your sense of propriety.

8. "I will not subject friends/family to "talking" to my not-yet-verbal babies on the phone"
But he is just so cute, of course people want to "talk" to him, right?

9. "I will not wear "mom" clothes?"
I frequently throw a coat over my pj's and drive Oliver to school.  This would be fine, except I actually park and get out of my car to watch him walk in.  Fortunately my glasses disguise the pillow creases on my face.  I do, however, draw the line at "mom jeans".

10. "I will not lose myself as I raise my kids"
I think this is inevitable when you stay home, but I do have hope that I'll resurface someday!

So, there you have it.  My child-rearing ideals haven't necessarily changed, but I now understand the difference between theory and practice. Parenting has the uncanny ability to keep you honest!

Rising to the Occasion

I really, really don't like winter in Minnesota.  You would think that after living here for nearly a decade, I would have acclimated somewhat by now. But, my formative years as a California girl seem to have instilled in me a lifelong intolerance for cold.  I do enjoy watching the snow fall through the window as I sip on something warm and tromping around in a newly fallen snow, but the day to day ice and mess really get me down.  My feelings have only intensified as, with the addition of children to my life,  I must now wrangle little wriggling extremities into various fleeced items each and every time we leave the house.

Fortunately, we have had a really mild winter so far this year, which I am viewing as a sign from God that it is possible for me to continue living here.  Or, it could just be global warming...  Anyway, as I write, it is a balmy 46 degrees up here in MN.  This morning, I could not deprive my kids of the much needed time outside, so I bundled them up and sent them out into the backyard this morning.  I wasn't really planning to stay and play - I can watch them from the kitchen, so I thought I would just get some stuff done inside while they ran around.  The dirty patches of ice and snow that cover the shaded parts of our yard don't hold the same allure for me as for little boys I guess.  So, I headed out with wet hair to just to open the garage so they could get toys out.  But, after they were well-equipped and I turned to head inside, I saw that they needed just a little help getting started.

So, I ran inside to get a hat to cover my cold head...

Then I stood around a took a few pics with my iphone so that Daddy could see them out in the yard.  But, the kids seemed to need help filling their buckets with snow.

So, I ran inside to get a pair of light gloves.  No need for the heavy ones since I'd just be there a few minutes.

Then, we decided to make snow castles and I noticed my gloves were getting wet and my fingers were cold.

So, I ran inside to put my put my thicker fleece gloves on.

Then, our castles turned into towers and in order to get enough snow, I had to tromp around all over the yard and my shoes were getting wet.

So, I ran inside to put my boots on.

Then, I had the brilliant idea of making a snow pile at the bottom of our little slide so the kids could land in it.  This of course necessitated lots of snow scooping and collecting, and my fleece gloves were getting wet.

So, I ran inside to get my serious, waterproof snow gloves.

Then, we played snow soccer and little Emory couldn't run or kick in his bulky pants and boots, so I picked him up and used him like a foosball guy.  Our fun ended in a snow ball fight, initiated by me - I don't generally like these, but the snow was such a perfect consistency that I couldn't resist.

Before I knew it, 45 minutes were gone, and the kitchen was still a mess.  But, my boys were pink-cheeked and smiling, and Oliver said "see Mom, I told you playing in the snow was fun" and I knew I had made the right choice.

I am amazed at how my kids encourage me to get out of my comfort zone and do stuff I don't really think I want to do.  In the end, it turned out to be exactly what I needed.

My New Year's Unresolutions

Okay, back on the blog.  It was a crazy few months in which I discovered that waiting to write until after all my "stuff" is done = never writing.  So, time to leave the laundry in the basement, and spend some time on this.  I have really, really missed it.

I have never been much for New Year's Resolutions - better not to make them than to deal with the guilt of not keeping them!  So, I would like to offer an alternative. Rather than taking stock of my shortcomings, I have decided to spend a little time thinking about the things I can do.  This is not exercise in self-flattery - believe me, that's not really an issue for me - rather a conscious avoidance of self-denigration.

And so, here is my list of what I Can Do.  This is not a list of what I Should Do or Used to Be Able to Do (that would be an exercise in frustration only to be faced with a stiff drink in hand), but rather what I, here on the couch watching 30 Rock reruns, Can Do.

I Can...

1. Write a blog!
2. Make pancakes from scratch without a recipe.
3. Rough house with my boys better than anyone.
4. Make my kids smile.
5. Buy gifts that people like.
6. Create things with my hands.
7. Sing.
8. Hem a pair of dress pants by hand.
9. Make lunch sculptures.
10. Take a temperature with a kiss on the forehead rather than a thermometer (A.K.A. the Mometer).
11. Remember all the words to the songs my mom sang to me as a child (and sing them to my babies).
12. Give birth without drugs/intervention (this is not a judgement of anyone else, just something that I find personal strength in).
13. Read books to my kids when I really don't feel like it.
14. Swim a pretty decent freestyle, breast stroke and back stroke.
15. Learn new things.
16. Resist the urge to nag.
17. Drive confidently in the city  (not something I could always do)
18. Make a pretty cool super hero costume out of an old t-shirt.
19. Overlook mistakes my kids (or husband) make.
20. Choose to focus on the positive.

Funny how the unresolution, can kind of turn into a resolution...

Happy New Year!