Another year,
another potential list of New Year's resolutions I certainly
don't intend to keep.
The 10 extra pounds I'm carrying? Makes me voluptuous and
not a slave to media-driven anorexic body shape of Hollywood
starlets and fashion victims. The well-bitten fingernails?
Showing my practical side by not splashing out money on
fastidious manicures, while ensuring that I don't
inadvertently scratch one of my young children during a
particularly violent diaper change. Fast foods, missed visits
to the gym, gossiping behind neighbour's backs and faking
headaches are all excuses which make me an unpredictable,
free-spirited and brave person.
No, my list will not be written this year, instead I have
turned my attention to other household members who will be
well served to follow the resolutions I have thoughtfully put
forward to them.
Starting with the husband, I don't believe I am unique in
having a husband with a plethora of fears and phobias
regarding basic domestic situations. His New Year's Resolution
should be to get over the following irrational fears:
In-the-rack-naphobia (otherwise known as fear of the
dishwasher): A strange phobia manifesting itself in the
inability to get a dirty glass or plate directly into the
dishwasher, without verbal encouragement. Previous brave
attempts have included placement on the counter directly above
the dishwasher, the kitchen table, and nearby flat surfaces.
Occasionally an unclean dish will end up in the kitchen sink,
ostensibly awaiting its turn to have a coveted hand-wash by
unnamed and unknown servants.
My husband is not the only one in my house who needs to
make resolutions and start the New Year on the right foot. In
a household like mine where children range in age from 3 to
14, the opportunities for self-improvement are vast. Starting
with the younger set.
Children Resolutions:
I need to accept that I am not the boss. Not even of me.
Acceptance that owning 27 Gamecube games is enough
already. For this week.
Although I know everything, it is apparently increasingly
annoying to my parents to point this out on a regular basis.
Purported "things I don't know" are not worth knowing but
comments to support this argument are best kept to myself.
Acceptance that my friends' parents are much, much better
at every aspect of parenting than my own, and attempts at
ingraining this superior behaviour into my own parents'
methodology are futile.
So, am I perfect? Is anyone? I throw down the gauntlet to
my own family to produce for me, a similar list of behaviours
and attitudes which I might look to improving in the new year.
Then I invite them to make dinner for the next 427 nights and
do their own laundry. I thought so. Motherhood, thy name is
leverage.
Kathy Buckworth's book The Secret Life of SuperMom is
available at bookstores now.
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