As February approaches, the buzz of the holidays is no longer in the air. The last decorations have been stored away, and the silence is deafening because the kids are back in school; I have found myself thinking about my hopes for this year. Some would call them New Year’s Resolutions, but I prefer the word intentions…somehow it sounds less daunting. The Oxford definition of ‘resolution’ is a firm decision to do or not do something.’ The word ‘intention,’ as Oxford defines, is ‘an aim or a plan’; it feels like a sunlit primrose path instead of the narrow climb up a treacherous hill of resolution.
My resolutions this year have nothing to do with weight loss or improving physical health. However, I believe in being physically active, maintaining a balanced diet to prevent illness, and modeling self-care to my kids. And they aren’t about financial success (although that would be nice.) But rather something that isn’t ephemeral and forgotten a few months from now, I am striving for something longer lasting that sticks. I’m aiming for something that continues to live on long after I am gone, like a fingerprint or the concentrated residue that remains after the evaporation of a chemical solution.
My intentions are ways to defy the status quo or resist the deep-rooted unhealthy generational patterns that may unintentionally transfer onto my daughters.
And as much as I require a healthy level of autonomy from my children, I know that I am profoundly, spiritually, and inextricably connected to them. They are watching what I do in this life, how I handle challenges and deal with difficulties. They are experiencing life in our familial sphere and can’t help but absorb what they witness. I want to be their first teacher, even if I get it wrong. When I do, I want to get up, ask for help, and try again.
My intentions and goals for this year:
1) To live in more hopefulness, gratitude, and contentment. I’ve been thinking back on how many times I’ve complained in a day (even if it is justified) from the ungodly amount of laundry that awaits me to the distressing state of the world. I can be very outspoken about things that I am displeased with. I aim to speak aloud about what I am grateful for and express my hope for change, even the little things, especially when I’m not feeling hopeful.
2) Resist the urge to suppress, dismiss, or numb hard feelings, whether for me or my kids. I want them to see me experiencing hard and messy feelings and productively working through them. When I’m angry, I’ll take time out and breathe deeply. When I’m sad, I will journal, allow myself to cry, and let my kids know it’s okay to be sad sometimes. I then create a safe space for them to do the same.
3) I will apologize to my kids when I get it wrong. This is foreign to me as I didn’t experience much of this from grown-ups when I was a kid. But in my act of resistance, I want to cultivate grace and humility in our family. I want to show them that it’s okay to be wrong, to make mistakes, and to take responsibility.
4) I commit to playing with my kids. I will participate in their make-believe games like I am six. I get so consumed by the day-to-day, the schedules, the meal planning, grocery runs, the laundry, etc., that I forget that my kids are getting older, almost out of that magical phase of imaginative play where they name their dolls and act out some hilariously constructed scene. This might seem insignificant, but there is so much benefit to dramatic play besides helping with social and emotional growth for our kids; it offers an opportunity for connection and trust building when we join in, and it can also be emotionally healing for us adults.
Someone once told me, ‘Parenting is hard work, and doing it thoughtfully is even harder. ‘ So my hats off to you, mamas, for doing this work with careful intention, breaking generational patterns, and raising change makers. May we leave our mark, our fingerprint…an unmistakable and enduring residue of progress. And when we get it wrong, may we get up and try again. We are in this together!
