2009

We are at the brink of a new year, and I can feel the weight of all that brings with it. Hopes and expectations and ponderings clutter my head. Rather than create a list of resolutions that I know I will never keep, and will therefore result in disappointment, I instead choose to lay on the table a list of possibilities, probabilities, roughly sketched goals, and other ponderings. This is what tumbles out at this hour:

1. Neater closets
2. Less cluttered desk
3. Two children who will sleep through the night
4. Carter in pre-school
5. More reading for pleasure
6. More free time outside
7. A vegetable garden in the backyard
8. A girls' trip with my sister and mom
9. Less time picking up toys
10. Learning to play a new song on the piano
11. Less worry about others judging me
12. Focus on the joy, not obligation, of giving gifts
13. Forgiving myself for the parenting mistakes I will inevitably make
14. Trad leading at least a 5.8 (climbing jargon)
15. Cameron walking and learning his first words
16. Finally feeling like my body is really mine for the first time in four (!) years
17. Giving away more junk to Goodwill (this complements number 1 nicely)
18. Carefully choosing my battles, and being confident in my decisions
19. Living the philosophy of the serenity prayer
20. Learn to cook a new favorite dish
21. Eat more vegetables
22. Eat more fresh, unprocessed food
23. Model the act of giving on a regular basis for my children
24. Find time for more yoga
25. Accept that I will not meet all my expectations for 2009, and that's okay

There are the 25 that seem to come to mind at the moment. What thoughts float around in your head on such a day? Cheers to a new year.

Dissonance

Winter break officially started yesterday afternoon, and I can feel myself in a state of dissonance, too scattered to focus on any one thing for very long. I am anxious for my family to come to town in a day or two and want my house to look festive, clean, and tidy. Not because it's expected but because I am more at ease when I'm not thinking about the unswept kitchen floor.

But my mind keeps wandering back to my last day of work, remembering the few loose ends I wasn't able to take care of and will be waiting when I return in two weeks.

Then there's the planning for these precious days we have off, even more precious because we have possible babysitters, meaning that we could potentially do some of those things that we can't afford to do with a sitter because they're too time consuming. But these activities have to be balanced by the time spent with those visiting. My time with them is precious, too.

But my children always pull me back to the present. Carter needs a cup of milk, a story to be read, a snack to be made. Cameron's ready for a nap, a new toy, to nurse. I am reminded that I can think and plan and worry all I want, but now is now. I need to pace myself and be present, pull my mind away from the past and future, into what's happening around me.

I need to ground myself and find my rhythm, synthesize everything that's in my head into a steady beat that moves me forward, not a cacophony that scatters and spins me.

So I sit here and write in an attempt to quiet my mind, perhaps even empty some of what is in it. Writing calms me and centers me, helps me sort through my thoughts and refocus on priorities. I feel less grinding of my gears already. I am able to think and see more clearly. Deep breath. Let the holidays begin.