Every year I go out of my way to avoid celebrating the new year. It’s not that I have anything against New Year’s Eve festivities. I’m usually too spent from everything that precedes December 31st--not to mention too big for my britches after all the festive gorging. So, by New Year’s Eve, I’m tired, it’s cold out, I have nothing to wear and all I want to do is curl up in front of a fire and ring in the new year at home in my slippers. I boycott all New Year’s Eve parties.
I also feel very comfortable boycotting New Year’s resolutions. January 1st is probably the worst time of year to commit to anything new. Like many of us who indulge over the holidays, health and fitness tend to be popular resolution themes at this time of year. Well, I’m not about to go jogging in the snow or shlep to the gym in the dark hours of the morning. I don’t even like to go sledding with the boys. What can I say? I’m slothful.
But when there’s a snow storm in New Jersey over winter vacation, I have no excuse but to layer up and out-of-body-experience myself to the sledding hill. This past weekend, I had the luxury of only taking Asher while Gabriella and Levi buddied up in the city.
At this point in time, sledding is still an activity in-tandem for the first few runs. Asher refused to go down that hill unless I was right behind him. Going down the hill isn’t such a torture (insert obvious joke about how much fun it is to go down). It’s the death-defying hike back up the icy slope that has me muttering curse words every time I discover a new muscle in my leg that punishes me for waking it out of a deep sleep or whimpering with every misstep causing me to wipe out face first into the snow.
Asher was particularly wary of hurling himself down a steep, slick, snowy hillside with only the padding of his jacket and snow pants to protect him from the elements and other sledders-gone-wild; go figure. Yet, I had used up all of the year’s allotted empathy, and I tried to convince him that all would be well. “Get on that sled, Asher. There’s nothing to fear. And anyway, you don’t have far to fall,” I tell him. He didn’t buy it.
Invariably, I ended up back of that fucking sled holding on to my terrorized child wishing I was anywhere else. I wished I were at home with others of my kind--the indoor kind-sipping a cocktail and making fun of all the poor souls out in the cold. But instead we’re surrounded by sporty ski-types with their color coordinated ski outfits juxtaposed with our mismatched jackets and snow pants and accessories that were clearly purchased a la carte; those ski-types sport their ski-goggle tan lines and ski lift badges still hanging on their zippers from the family ski trip to Stowe last week. While they speed down the hill on their snow boards, we try to get to the bottom in one piece and pretend to enjoy surrendering all control.
The last few runs were Asher’s and Asher’s alone. He finally found the courage to go solo. And while he had a fine time, he missed my company. Shortly after he graduated to independent sledding, he decided it was time to go home - and have hot chocolate, and I was happy to oblige.
Note mismatched ski outfit
But the subject at hand was New Year’s and making resolutions. I’m resolved in my strategy to make goals throughout the year as opposed to making resolutions on this one occasion. I guess you could say that my New Year’s resolution is to continue to check in with myself and change whatever needs changing all year long. You could say that if you absolutely had to assign me with a resolution. Whatever gets you through the day. If making resolutions for yourself also gets you through your day, then good luck with whatever you put in place to make 2011 an outstanding year.
Happy New Year!