10 New Year Resolutions for Moms
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My significant other and I spent our first New Year's Eve together at a rowdy gathering in L.A. where I could scarcely press my yellow fishnets to the bar to arrange my cosmo before the fire marshal educated us that we were over limit, needed to clear, and "Gracious definitely. Upbeat 2003, 10 minutes prior." The sit tight for a taxicab was horrendous, so like the Little Engine I now know so well, I energetically "I think I can'd" my fishnets the 3 miles back to my companion's condo. My better half and I took in our lesson and have spent the 13 New Yearses since (don't crunch the numbers — we were 8) accomplishing something more our speed — planting ourselves on the love seat with coordinating night wear, a ton of impressively nauseating tacos, and a touch of disgustingly spectacular champagne.
And as for resolutions? I was over them too. From that first couch year on, I’d simply resolved that each next year would bring me back to that same place. However, this past year, our first with a new baby, where the staying-in thing was less of a quirky choice than a not-wanting-to-spend-$77,000-on-a-sitter necessity, I realized that while we may have been on the same couch, we were in a different place altogether. I resolved right then and there to make resolutions … next year (I was a new mom; my plate was kinda full). So here we are, a year later, and I have in fact come up with 10 resolutions we should all make. Happy New Year, moms. Let’s do this thang.
1. Eat associated to an adult human.
The hours of daylight the Very Hungry Caterpillar spent in the by now he hid in that cocoon for the neighboring two weeks? With the pickle and Swiss cheese and slice of cherry pie? Yeah, as a outcome that's basically my Saturday. (Well, if you took out that simple green leaf and swapped it furthermore than a bunch of wine.) My kid is correspondingly annoyingly to your liking at spotting the cookies Im hiding in my cheeks even if I'm shoveling kale muffins into hers. I dependence to lead by example. I quirk to nourish and have the funds for care of this body of mine. After all, it gave me her I nice of owe it.
2. Have patience.
So I taught my kale-eating daughter this fun party trick where I make known Deep and she says, Breaf, and throws her curly little toothless head to the front occurring busy therefore highly and adequately its comical (and comfortable of creepy after a though, but mostly humorous). Lately, while, especially subsequent to the put the accent on-inducing fade away to 2016, I locate myself prompting her to get your hands on this compound period a hours of hours of day, for an audience of just me. As this new year approaches, I resolve to breathe. I craving to have more patience when my kid, considering my husband, and past myself. Its amazing what stopping and taking a breaf can get. It helps you hear, and I hear you earsplitting and sure, kid. Thanks for the reminder.
3. Have less screen time (even if you’re slightly over 2).
I was doing very important Facebooking yesterday when my daughter waddled over to me, knelt down, and gently sang, “Hi, Mommy.” PHONE! WHY CAN’T I QUIT YOU?! I need to disconnect with the noise that means so little so I can reconnect with the noise that means everything — “Hi, Mommy!” And once she’s asleep, I’ll post her adorable deep-breathing videos on Facebook — I’m not an animal.
4. Get help.
I’ve worked hard at this whole mom thing, but it’s taken me until recently to understand that I’ll never get to appreciate any of it if I’m constantly trying to do all of it. In the past, I’d felt guilty burdening others, but I think I feel even guiltier when I realize how much I miss by taking on too much. Most of the week I had a baby nurse, I spent waddling in my postpartum diaper to make her guilt-lasagnas (her favorite). I need help. Clearly. This year, I’m going to ask for help when I need it and accept it when it’s there — even if it’s as small as asking a stranger to snap a picture of my family so I can actually be in it. (No joke, my photo stream looks like an ad for SingleDads.com.) I’ve done a mostly OK job building our family — it’s time I enjoy being part of it.
5. Take stock.
It’s impossible to imagine what each new year will bring. Though now, with a life of far more fish sticks than fishnets, the mom in me knows it’s best to always have ambitions and plans (and snacks) — even if they end up a crumbled mess in the bottom of your bag — so we can face the future with a resounding, “I think I can.” Life can be full of tacos and champagne, and becoming a parent has taught me that despite a lot of (actual) shit, it sure is deliciously fabulous beyond my wildest dreams. And it goes by in an instant. So while I’ll head into this year with my resolutions for whatever is to come, I’ll also promise myself to enjoy where I already am. I promise to find moments to come to that couch, take a "breaf," and take stock of what I’ve got. Because when I do, I realize that maybe there isn’t so much I’d want to change after all.
6. Have more sex.
You know that thing where you become a new mom and your partner is just like, “Whoa! Slow down with all this sex you want to have all the time!”? Neither do I. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s not a thing. (And if it is, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF AND DON’T TELL MY HUSBAND.) Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the fact that my daughter has taken to hiding jungle puzzle pieces in my cleavage, or maybe it’s that I let her, but sex is something that in my first few months — OK, year — of parenthood, I let slip as a priority more than I should have. I wish I could be fun and surprise my man naked at the door with lobster in the pot and the kid asleep. But it’s really cold. And he has a minor shellfish allergy. The baby’s awake because she’s asking for him and I’m legit in an adult onesie with a mug full of Truvia packets. But in 2017, I need to unleash the beast. As the lion that just fell out of my bra reminded me, it’s in there somewhere.
7. Date your partner.
And as for resolutions? I was over them too. From that first couch year on, I’d simply resolved that each next year would bring me back to that same place. However, this past year, our first with a new baby, where the staying-in thing was less of a quirky choice than a not-wanting-to-spend-$77,000-on-a-sitter necessity, I realized that while we may have been on the same couch, we were in a different place altogether. I resolved right then and there to make resolutions … next year (I was a new mom; my plate was kinda full). So here we are, a year later, and I have in fact come up with 10 resolutions we should all make. Happy New Year, moms. Let’s do this thang.
1. Eat associated to an adult human.
The hours of daylight the Very Hungry Caterpillar spent in the by now he hid in that cocoon for the neighboring two weeks? With the pickle and Swiss cheese and slice of cherry pie? Yeah, as a outcome that's basically my Saturday. (Well, if you took out that simple green leaf and swapped it furthermore than a bunch of wine.) My kid is correspondingly annoyingly to your liking at spotting the cookies Im hiding in my cheeks even if I'm shoveling kale muffins into hers. I dependence to lead by example. I quirk to nourish and have the funds for care of this body of mine. After all, it gave me her I nice of owe it.
2. Have patience.
So I taught my kale-eating daughter this fun party trick where I make known Deep and she says, Breaf, and throws her curly little toothless head to the front occurring busy therefore highly and adequately its comical (and comfortable of creepy after a though, but mostly humorous). Lately, while, especially subsequent to the put the accent on-inducing fade away to 2016, I locate myself prompting her to get your hands on this compound period a hours of hours of day, for an audience of just me. As this new year approaches, I resolve to breathe. I craving to have more patience when my kid, considering my husband, and past myself. Its amazing what stopping and taking a breaf can get. It helps you hear, and I hear you earsplitting and sure, kid. Thanks for the reminder.
3. Have less screen time (even if you’re slightly over 2).
I was doing very important Facebooking yesterday when my daughter waddled over to me, knelt down, and gently sang, “Hi, Mommy.” PHONE! WHY CAN’T I QUIT YOU?! I need to disconnect with the noise that means so little so I can reconnect with the noise that means everything — “Hi, Mommy!” And once she’s asleep, I’ll post her adorable deep-breathing videos on Facebook — I’m not an animal.
4. Get help.
I’ve worked hard at this whole mom thing, but it’s taken me until recently to understand that I’ll never get to appreciate any of it if I’m constantly trying to do all of it. In the past, I’d felt guilty burdening others, but I think I feel even guiltier when I realize how much I miss by taking on too much. Most of the week I had a baby nurse, I spent waddling in my postpartum diaper to make her guilt-lasagnas (her favorite). I need help. Clearly. This year, I’m going to ask for help when I need it and accept it when it’s there — even if it’s as small as asking a stranger to snap a picture of my family so I can actually be in it. (No joke, my photo stream looks like an ad for SingleDads.com.) I’ve done a mostly OK job building our family — it’s time I enjoy being part of it.
5. Take stock.
It’s impossible to imagine what each new year will bring. Though now, with a life of far more fish sticks than fishnets, the mom in me knows it’s best to always have ambitions and plans (and snacks) — even if they end up a crumbled mess in the bottom of your bag — so we can face the future with a resounding, “I think I can.” Life can be full of tacos and champagne, and becoming a parent has taught me that despite a lot of (actual) shit, it sure is deliciously fabulous beyond my wildest dreams. And it goes by in an instant. So while I’ll head into this year with my resolutions for whatever is to come, I’ll also promise myself to enjoy where I already am. I promise to find moments to come to that couch, take a "breaf," and take stock of what I’ve got. Because when I do, I realize that maybe there isn’t so much I’d want to change after all.
6. Have more sex.
You know that thing where you become a new mom and your partner is just like, “Whoa! Slow down with all this sex you want to have all the time!”? Neither do I. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s not a thing. (And if it is, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF AND DON’T TELL MY HUSBAND.) Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the fact that my daughter has taken to hiding jungle puzzle pieces in my cleavage, or maybe it’s that I let her, but sex is something that in my first few months — OK, year — of parenthood, I let slip as a priority more than I should have. I wish I could be fun and surprise my man naked at the door with lobster in the pot and the kid asleep. But it’s really cold. And he has a minor shellfish allergy. The baby’s awake because she’s asking for him and I’m legit in an adult onesie with a mug full of Truvia packets. But in 2017, I need to unleash the beast. As the lion that just fell out of my bra reminded me, it’s in there somewhere.
7. Date your partner.
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Beyond the sex, I miss the no-occasion date nights. We go out, sure — we have weddings, we have holiday parties, events we need to attend — and we do get sitters, but I miss those nights when you don’t really have any plans, when you’re not expected to be anywhere other than with each other. The nights where you get tipsy at the dive downstairs and drunk off the thrill of sneaking tons of candy into whatever movie happens to be playing, so you can lie on each other and just … be. I remember him mixing Sno-Caps with Sour Patch Kids when we went to see Love Actually and realizing that I was in love … actually. (Sorry.) While it’s sometimes wonder if it’s worth it to spend $77,000 for a teenager to watch a bad movie on my filthy couch just so I can pay another $77,000 to watch a worse movie on a filthy chair, the more I think about it, I realize it kind of is.
8. Take more epoch to yourself.
Whether its getting a blowout, lunching when than a friend who (usually) wont shit herself during it, or reading a sticker album that doesnt influence an primordial lady whispering hush (because I perform Im slowly becoming her), I dependence to recall that taking era away from beast a mother always makes me a improved one. Even if its a yoga class, or, agree tos be definite, closing my nod for that excuse I can pee alone and climb into bed gone Popchips, a glass of wine, and a DVR full of Younger, I resolve to succession on that era gone altogether of the chips and none of the guilt. Will I miss her? Sure. But right now, I miss me.
9. Sleep. Remember snooze?
I perform recall nursing a auxiliary baby who woke happening the entire hour, and thinking what I wouldnt have enough keep for her to nap through the night hence I finally could. Well, now she sleeps, but as she gets older and more nimble, as a consequences reach I. Her awake era requires more of me and her downtime is filled when me frantically bothersome to tend to what I cant once shes going on. This year, I resolve to be OK taking into account leaving astern some things undone therefore I can in flames. I just looked the length of into my coffee to see an unopened Truvia packet drifting in it. And Id be lying if I told you I didnt locate my (yesterdays) ocher juice in my daughters sock drawer. (And lying behind anew if I told you I didnt drink it anyway.) Just nap once she naps! people reveal. HA! Right! And what neighboring, huh?! I suppose youre with going to declare me to shower?! Youconcerning comical.
10. Shower. Oops.
(I cant accede I dont have more sex.)
Source: Cosmopolitan
8. Take more epoch to yourself.
Whether its getting a blowout, lunching when than a friend who (usually) wont shit herself during it, or reading a sticker album that doesnt influence an primordial lady whispering hush (because I perform Im slowly becoming her), I dependence to recall that taking era away from beast a mother always makes me a improved one. Even if its a yoga class, or, agree tos be definite, closing my nod for that excuse I can pee alone and climb into bed gone Popchips, a glass of wine, and a DVR full of Younger, I resolve to succession on that era gone altogether of the chips and none of the guilt. Will I miss her? Sure. But right now, I miss me.
9. Sleep. Remember snooze?
I perform recall nursing a auxiliary baby who woke happening the entire hour, and thinking what I wouldnt have enough keep for her to nap through the night hence I finally could. Well, now she sleeps, but as she gets older and more nimble, as a consequences reach I. Her awake era requires more of me and her downtime is filled when me frantically bothersome to tend to what I cant once shes going on. This year, I resolve to be OK taking into account leaving astern some things undone therefore I can in flames. I just looked the length of into my coffee to see an unopened Truvia packet drifting in it. And Id be lying if I told you I didnt locate my (yesterdays) ocher juice in my daughters sock drawer. (And lying behind anew if I told you I didnt drink it anyway.) Just nap once she naps! people reveal. HA! Right! And what neighboring, huh?! I suppose youre with going to declare me to shower?! Youconcerning comical.
10. Shower. Oops.
(I cant accede I dont have more sex.)
Source: Cosmopolitan
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