Giving Up Goals

A rude awakening leads to a kind awakening.

Photo by lil artsy via Pexels.com

This morning I awoke to my preschooler shining a flashlight directly in my eyes. “Mommy, there’s something behind you,” he whispered urgently. In my half-asleep confusion I ran through several mental calculations: was a spider on the wall? A bat? It was pitch dark, besides the headlamp, and the city was quiet outside my window. What was happening!? I sat up to look. “It’s a… hamburger!!!!” He cheered happily and skipped off to play.

Once I established that there were no unexpected hamburgers looming behind my bed, I rolled my creaking, stiff body out of bed. It was just past 5 am, the same time at least one of my kids has been up, almost every single day, since I had my first baby over a decade ago.

I clicked on the coffee maker. Checking the kitchen calendar confirmed what the black morning sky already suggested: it’s the third week of January. The thick of winter. The school routine is back in full swing, schedules are steadying, there are lunches to be packed, forms to be signed, kids to be dropped off and picked up. Repeat ’til June.

As I puttered around waking up, I reflected on the New Year’s goals I set for myself just a few short weeks ago.

The first goal, as always, from the beginning of time immemorial, was to lose weight. This is annually prompted by the crushing mental torture of the onslaught of Christmas photos: cards received from Supermoms who organized matching outfits and a professional photographer back in November; candids taken by enthusiastic family members as I shoveled delicious scoops of Christmas dinner into my face; even the group selfies that I myself took show the glowing, flawless skin of my own children (traitors!) next to my exhausted, puffy face. Another year over.

As I packed everyone’s lunches (crackers, apples, salami), simultaneously assembled breakfast (peanut butter, eggs, bananas), and thought ahead for dinner (pasta), it occurred to me that if my kids are awake, they’re eating. When they’re not eating, they’ve just finished eating, or are about to eat. And when my kids eat, it’s because I have personally collected food, prepared food, served food, and cleaned up the food. As a mom, food is inescapable at this time of life.

I needed to forget about losing weight this year. It would be easier to be a sailor and ignore the sea.

I moved on to the next morning task, helping the kids get dressed, and reached into their drawers to dig out matching socks and t-shirts that would fit their constantly growing torsos (is today somehow a Spirit Day? Or is that residual December trauma?).

This lead me to remember my second resolution: I had resolved to revamp my wardrobe, throw out my old threadbare sweatpants and t-shirts with the holes in the waist, and finally get jeans that fit. Then at least I’ll be wearing jeans in the photos I'm avoiding posing in, instead of old stretched out sweatpants with the holes in the crotch. Only I can’t bear to go near to the overstimulating nightmare that is the mall. The last time I did that, I had to drag along the kids, who would rather be digging a hole in some mud, and we were all in tears by the time we got to the car. Instead I would end up doing what I always do: ordering several things online, discover when they arrive that I have no idea what size I am, and determine that clothing manufacturers have never met a human woman before. And then I’d have to use my precious few hours of free time while the youngest is in preschool dealing with returning them.

Back to the morning routine, we battled over brushing teeth, and had our usual argument about whether or not coats are actually necessary in Canada in January. Finally, we were out the door.

I dropped by the school and then took my youngest to the playground (I have all-weather playground kids). It wasn’t too cold, so I used a gloveless hand to scroll Pinterest on my phone while my preschooler taught a small group of like-minded children how to dig a trench.

Seeing the beautifully curated interiors online reminded me of my third New Year’s resolution: This year, I will totally declutter my house. I will organize to the point where you can’t tell that anyone lives there, let alone a frazzled mother, her overworked husband, and several loud and chaotic children.

I attempted to Get Organized the last time I had a baby, after I lost the weight, and then again after I had another baby and lost that weight, and now here we are again. The best part of the decluttering process is spending weeks secretly collecting outgrown toys, books, and clothes (if the kids catch me, they will put a stop to the process immediately), and then having the house be clean enough for visitors for 45 minutes.

Decluttering the house is very similar to losing weight, in that the enormous effort and time it takes almost never translates into results that anyone notices. Digging myself out of several years of accumulating things just makes my house look normal. I assume that other people’s houses never get the slightest bit cluttered or messy; this is entirely something that happens to me, probably because my children are particularly bad and I am uniquely bad at parenting them. Nevertheless, this January could mean that I become an entirely different person, who has a beautiful family but shows no evidence of birthing or living with anyone, ever. I could get started on this process at once, today! IF, of course, I could negotiate successfully with my four-year-old to leave the park (we can never, ever leave the park).

As I watched my little child play in that cold winter sun, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was so well-rested, with a full belly, in clean clothes that fit him, happily poking around a puddle with a stick.

I realized then that my only resolution this year should be to appreciate myself. It was my effort that made that little boy smile. I gained weight by keeping every belly in my house full. My clothes are destroyed because I am outside so much with my kids. I like being at the park, even in January, and having the wild little children I have means I get to do that all the time. My house is messy because we are out and about digging in puddles instead of home vacuuming.

This resolution is the easiest, because it takes no effort, and I can do it from the comfort of my ripped sweatpants, watching my little one dig and play. When he finally comes running over to see me, he throws his small arms around my soft body and nestles his smooth, cold cheek into face. I can’t wait to spend the year waking up to him.

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Our January theme is “new beginnings.” Check back next Thursday for another essay on this topic by

Lauren Ahmed

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