Thanks to the envy-inducing Facebook, I turned a slight shade of green Sunday morning, when small blond boy-children invaded my room before the clock had struck 7. This, after a Facebook friend had boasted the previous day that her similarly-aged children had slept in until 11am. Forget 11, I’ll do a (mental) happy dance for 8am.

I’ve had New Year’s resolutions on the brain this week, what with the professor asking me what my ‘goals’ were for this year and threatening to make some for me if I didn’t come up with my own. So I resolved, this morning, to get more sleep in 2011. ‘Okay, we’re buying you boys an alarm clock today and you’re not allowed to come into my room unless it says 7 on the alarm clock,’ I decreed.

We went to the Superstore after church and procured an alarm clock that looks exactly like the one in my bedroom. Except it’s new and shiny and bright. Like a jealous older sister, I offered a trade: ‘why don’t I take this one and then you can have my alarm clock,’ I suggested to my six year old. Even though I don’t actually use the alarm clock, other than squinting and scowling at the display.

With one resolution out of the way, I considered another year of abysmal failure in the physical fitness department. Yes, 2010, I’m talking about you. Thus I determined to make another [halfhearted] attempt at achieving ‘the impossible dream’ in 2011. Perhaps I could aim for a modest thirty minute walk, three times a week? Even if, realistically, I should be exercising seven times a week if I want to fit into my jeans again.

‘I’m going for a walk after lunch,’ I informed the professor. ‘Lunch’ being a store-bought frozen pizza made with cheese and meat that are surely not real. ‘I thought you were going for a walk,’ the professor inquired-reminded when I continued to linger long after I’d choked down the last bite of cheese pizza.

What? I was ultra-engrossed in the boys’ Uno game.

I donned boots and jacket and gloves and headed outside. When we left the Superstore the skies were blue. And the temperature hovered around 40 degrees Fahrenheit. An hour and a half later and the skies were grey. And it was at least ten degrees cooler outside. Maybe more.

I regretted my decision – tout de suite as the French would say. My mind filled with scenes from the movie North Face: the main character standing on the Eiger during a blizzard, without one of his gloves; the black, frostbitten faces of the climbers. The pitiful ‘ich bin sehr kalt’ whispered right before one of the climbers died.

I resolved not to climb any mountains. Not in 2011. Not ever.

Inclement weather aside, my time outside was most enjoyable. [Walking, briskly, in the same direction. Without backtracking or having to endure complaints about the weather, or how it’s taking too long, or that it’s time to go home.]

And yet I’d rather pretend to watch an Uno game…..


I arrived home with semi-frozen limbs and proceeded to polish off about ten Kahlua Truffle Triangles (kindly made (and abandoned) by my mom before flying back to the land of corn and earthquakes). I had, after all, just exercised.

Resolved, for the twentieth consecutive year: eat less dessert.

Maybe this will be the year.


5 thoughts on “Resolved…again…still

  1. There was an alarm clock at indigo that changed background colours to indicate when the time was right for the children to leave their respective sleeping quarters. (For those children who don’t know what a 7 looks like or at least pretend not to.)

  2. OMG. Eat less dessert?? You’re joking right?!
    How about eat more bran and whole grains, in the hopes that they transport the fats and sugars out of you before they have time to do any damage, ergo, no need for ‘eat less dessert’ silliness.

  3. I am a BIG fan of the 7 am rule. We started this when Nelson was three? after hearing this idea from a friend. It works!!

  4. Kim and Lisa, I’ll let you know – I have my fingers crossed! Brandi, well, I think eating 10 of anything in one sitting probably points to a problem of some sort. Maybe there’s some sort of 30-day inpatient treatment program I can enter? And yes, Ma, we did manage not to eat 72 triangles in less than forty-eight hours. We’re paragons of self-control.


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