I’m suffering from a New Years Eve hangover – not from drinking too much champagne but from having seven teenage girls shrieking in my basement into the wee hours of 2016.
Every year the world over, we haul out our dusty notebooks and pens and write down resolutions. This is the year we will quit smoking, eat healthier, get to the gym, be nicer to people. We even use the word resolution, which comes from the word resolve, meaning “a firm determination to do something.” Yet most of our willpower crumbles before the Valentine’s Day candy comes out on store shelves.
When I awoke this morning after sleeping in until the ungodly hour of 10 am, everything felt the same despite the rolling around of a new year. My Christmas decorations looked a bit like a socialite who overstayed her welcome at the New Years Eve gala. The meager layer of snow in the backyard has gotten crusty and gray. I still need coffee to jump start my day, and I have already succumbed to the siren song of fresh donuts in their bakery box on the counter in my kitchen.
At my age, I’ve learned to stay away from grand plans to overhaul my life at the stroke of midnight on January 1. I will settle for small improvements, such as my mostly successful determination to be unfailingly kind and friendly to store employees in the weeks before Christmas. I plan to read more, write more, and stay connected to friends. I will buy more fruit and veggies (and hopefully eat them) and be gentler with my teenage kids. I will kiss my husband more. I will pray more.
Most of all, I will try to banish worry and enjoy my life more. That’s my resolution for 2016. What’s yours?