Like any reputable snack mom, I have chosen to start my year, not with resolutions, but with several non-resolutions. Nothing gets my goat like the newly birthed January gym goers, resolutions on their minds and in their hearts. Sure, it doesn’t last long, but the full parking lot, the wait at the pool or the treadmill, the obnoxious banter in the locker room, well, it all just takes its toll on those committed to physical fitness year-round. Perhaps, try a few jogs around the neighborhood to see if it sticks. There’s no harm in that.
See, that’s the thing with resolutions, they just don’t stick. Isn’t it easier to choose to not do things? Drum roll please… I give you, Snack Mom’s 2019 Non-Resolutions:
- About a week ago, I started seeing the “See how hard aging has hit you” posts. At first I thought, oh what a fun idea. Then I realized that this was an act of self-sabotage, that we women don’t even realize we participate in, as if these standards thrust upon us by society at such a young age have become part of our subconscious. Read the title again that went along with those posts. Are we being kind to ourselves when post our photos under those words? This year I choose kindness, to be kind to myself. I choose love, loving myself, not for my appearance, but for who I’ve become and who I strive to be. I know I have more fine lines and grey hairs ten years after joining Facebook, but I couldn’t be prouder of the woman I have become. I prefer to focus on how I’ve grown as a person and ways to continue to grow and be better than the person I was last year.
- Can we talk about Sign Up Genius? Or is it Sign Up, Genius? Have you ever seen the memes where just one strategically placed comma completely changes the meaning of a phrase or a sentence? I feel like the executives at SUG are mocking us. Sign up for another tasteless snack treat, genius. How about another thousand mini water bottles, genius? Oh, you’re too late again to sign for the napkins, genius? Have you even calculated what the SUGs have cost you this year, genius? Generally, when you refer to someone as “genius”, it’s not meant as a compliment. So guess what, geniuses, I’m on to your trickery. The new genius in this house is Snack Dad. So the next time I am asked, “Sign up, genius?” I shall simply reply, “Meh, I’m good. E-mail Snack Dad.”
- Snack moms are taught to feel guilty about everything, and not just about the quality and quantity of the snacks we provide. Sure, snack moms are judged harshly, and sometimes even condemned, for providing an enjoyable, delicious snack treat rather than something made with kale or quinoa, or multigrain crackers (gluten-free of course) with a side of processed meats and avocado hummus. Mmmm, every kid prefers kale and stinky cheese to a colorful, fudgy, frosted Cosmic Brownie. No, this goes beyond the call of snack duty. Does Snack Mom work? Yes? Then she must not be fulfilling every need of her children. Nope, sorry, geniuses, I’m letting go of the guilt. Some days I have to work later, or even, gasp, work on the weekends, and I won’t feel guilty that I might be neglecting my children. On the other hand, some days I have to leave work early because I have a sick child or want to attend their middle of the day school concerts. I won’t feel guilty that I am neglecting my students and my career. I won’t feel guilty that my house is a mess or that I left for work with dirty dishes in the sink or that my kids wear the same school shirt two days in a row. At this point in my life, I have gained the wisdom to know that this great, spherical Earth will continue to spin on its axis, even as that glorious toxic soup is churning in my kitchen sink. Yep, nothing like reaching your hands into smelly, chunky toxic sink soup at the end of a long workday, but hey, it’s better than guilt.
2018 may have been the year of Snack Mom, but 2019 is the year of letting go, of living out my non-resolutions. I choose to see the beauty in aging, in all its (almost but hardly) infinite wisdom. The fine lines and grey hairs may be increasing exponentially, but so is my quality of life, and the things I choose to let go, and the pride I have in myself and in my family.
This year I choose peace. I choose love. I choose me. Take that, geniuses.