My Groundhog's Day, I Mean New Year's Resolutions

My Groundhog's Day, I Mean New Year's Resolutions

The following is a guest post from momAgendaCOMM blogger Kim-Marie Evans.

Is it because I’m getting old that New Year’s Day feels like Groundhog’s Day? It’s not just that Dick Clark is like some sort of everlasting gobstopper; I think it’s the resolutions I make every year and then don’t keep, every year.

Every crisp New Year I promise myself I will:

1. Have sex with my husband more often.

2. Make a nice dinner every night.

3. Get a handle on our finances.

My sweet husband gets excited about all three of these, really in no particular order. I think he finds them all equally thrilling.

Doesn’t he see what’s coming? Does he really believe this will be the year he’ll come home to find me all dolled up in some Jimmy Choo’s cooking a pot roast having just balanced the checkbook?

It’s not that I don’t want to make homemade dinners, have some idea if or when we’ll ever be able to retire or get freaky.

I do, honest.

I buy cookbooks, the latest is a “Family Cookbook,” it even has games we can play at the table. Today I bought all the ingredients for homemade mac-n-cheese, who knew such a thing existed? I really planned to make it; the kids even believed I would (my powers of delusion aren’t just effective on my husband). But after two orthodontist appointments, one art class, three piano lessons, a Cub Scout meeting and a dance class (none of them for me, of course), we had pizza. Betty Crocker clearly had under-scheduled children.

I label things. In my mind, this is really the same as dealing with them. Once everything is labeled and in pretty file folders, I can proceed on this “budget” business my husband keeps referring to. It’s not that I don’t “keep” this resolution, it’s just always “in progress.”

Of course the one that really makes up for not cooking, or budgeting, or really anything is the one I can never seem to make happen. With four children under foot, there’s no such thing as spontaneity. We have an inside joke in our marriage about “the window”. That would be that magic moment when he just might get lucky. He’s always on the lookout for an open window. Usually it opens after a margarita at a party, but it’s closed by the time I get home all cranky to find a child sleeping in our bed. I adore my husband – I’m just so tired. When are other people doing this? Seriously? We get about 6 hours when everyone is asleep at once, does he really expect me to stay awake for that?

Regardless, I’m starting this January off like every other, in my Jimmy Choo’s, cookbook and label maker in hand…half asleep.

Kim-Marie Evans is a member of the Council of Media Moms at momAgenda. She is a lifestyle blogger who writes about motherhood and travel on her personal blog The Luxury Travel Mom. You can always find her on Twitter.