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long days

Since then it's been a book you read in reverse So you understand less as the pages turn Or a movie so crass And awkardly cast That even I could be the star.

 

Resolved.



In 2008, I will:

Start exercising regularly.

Eat regular meals, i.e., not starve myself all day because nothing sounds good and then eat 2 pork chops and a pound of pasta for dinner because I am so starving.

By the same token, it is not okay to snack on brie and hard salami all day long.

Not neglect my children so I can play Guitar Hero.

I will not be suckered (as often) by Target impulse purchases, especially in the teenager clothing section.

I will read a book that doesn't include the phrase "Healing Autism" anywhere in the title or description

Less Backyardigans and Yo Gabba Gabba. More playing with my kids.

Less procrastinating all my freelance assignments until five days after they are due.

Go to the dentist. For the first time in 4 years.

Take L to the dentist. For the first time in 4 years.

Get my will and trusts done and filed. Or whatever it is you are supposed to do with such things.

Figure out where and when L will go to Kindergarten.

Clean out the garage and my Evil Closet of Haunted and Unloved Shoes

Wear cute flats sometimes instead of sneakers.

Wash my face every night.

Buy new bras. And they will all be lined, padded and push-up, and not meant for any kind of breastfeeding.

Have one of these bras on every morning when the babysitter shows up to watch TJ. I think she will appreciate this more than a raise.

Convince one of my kids to eat something other than Chicken Fingers as their main form of protein.

Convince one of my kids to try some other kind of pork product besides Bacon. Yes, bacon is delicious -- but they are missing out on so much other porky goodness.

Watch one of those basic cable series all the critics are telling me I should be watching (Damages, The Shield, The Closer, etc.)

Start watching Rock of Love or another similarly terrible and cheesy reality show. I Love New York 2 has taught me that quality cheesy reality TV didn't die when they refused to bring back Paradise Hotel, Temptation Island and Love Cruise. It's ok to open my heart again.

Accept that they really aren't bringing back Paradise Hotel, Temptation Island, and Love Cruise.

Make a weekly meal plan and grocery list and stick to it.

Call my husband no more than one time per week begging him to pick up dinner on his way home.

Get my knives sharpened.

Start texting.

Remain steadfast and not abandon the effort to grow out TJ's bangs. Yes, she looks ridiculous now with her hair in her eyes. If we give up now, she may never know life without bangs.

Stop pretending that I have the metabolism of a teenager or breastfeeding mother. That means no more Two Bite anythings from Whole Foods.

Admit that the organic version of crappy food like frozen waffles and tater tots is no better than the Eggo or Ore-Ida version. The organic version inevitably tastes terrible, no one eats it, and is not worth the marginal nutritional improvement.

Pluck my eyebrows before someone has to remind me.

Ditto with shaving my legs.

Stop forgetting my green grocery bags in the car.

Blog more regularly. Or else, not at all.

Keep my kids up late more often. They were funny little New Years Eve ragers. And we all slept in until 9:00 (or at least I did.)


Happy New Year!

 
 

Goodnight, Tiger.

I must admit: I am obsessed with the San Francisco Zoo tiger attack.

It's the kind of breaking news story made for a long holiday weekend when nothing else is going on. Every day brings new twists and turns: bloody shoe prints, dangling limbs, and belligerent victims with police records who refuse to cooperate with the investigation. We may never know what exactly transpired, other than that it's never a good idea to mix trouble-making teenagers with a dangerously unsecured tiger grotto.

But tonight, during TJ's bedtime story, it occurred to me: Where was the Gorilla in all this?

 
 

my kids are cute.

Forget bemoaning the generation of kids who are growing up with no knowledge of cassettes, records, CDs, whatever. TJ is the first kid I have met who is growing up ignorant of a time when toothbrushes didn't sing. I tried to hand her such a relic today. She looked at it. And looked at me. "Music?" she said, nonplussed.

****

Lucy raced out of her room yesterday, clutching a silver frame to her chest. "Mom! Look at this!" she said breathlessly. It was a framed copy of her birth announcement. "It says my name on it! Lucy! And it has a picture of me from when I was being born!" The photo is from a few minutes after she was born, because it struck me as kind of grisly to include a live shot of a c-section on her birth announcement, but whatever. I explained to her that it was a birth announcement, that we had sent it to everyone we knew when she was born to let them know that she was alive and well and weighed six pounds, ten ounces. "And to tell them that you were going to keep me?" she added. Well yes. That too.

 
 

Milestones

At just over 19 months, Tessa put together her first whole sentence tonight:

"I don't like this."