Happy New Year friends and complete strangers whom I adore! I’ve been thinking a lot about resolutions recently. Even though I’m fundamentally against the whole idea, I never fail to create a list of resolutions…and then feel bad about myself when I don’t fulfill them. Good times!
My main resolution for 2010 was to have a surgery-free year, which I did. There were many x-rays, a cracked tailbone, tons of physical therapy and a whole lot of pain management – but no scalpels. Success! I’d like to extend that resolution through 2011.
Some other resolutions include, but are not excluded to: not using my car as a battering ram, regardless of how slow the irritant is driving; staying out of the police blotter unless it is citing a heroic act that I performed; and making a sincere effort to remember that other’s can’t hear the music in my earphones, but they CAN hear my singing.
Here’s a little post I just put on the WenatcheeOutdoors site about resolutions. You can read the original post here.
I’m THAT person. The one who always has the predictable “get more organized,” and “lose weight” on her list of New Year’s resolutions. I should probably add “back up the computer more often” to that list since I’m rewriting this post due to a hard drive malfunction. Unfortunately, the Organizational Fairy hasn’t visited me, my pants are too tight and my work is lost.
Weary of having the same resolutions year after year, I decided to declare only one resolution for 2011. A single resolution that is feasible, inexpensive (I guess I can scratch Tahiti off the list) and promotes good health. The winner?
Instill my love of the outdoors in my son.
Last year I wrote a post about the importance of making time to play outside, even with a newborn (you can read it here). I think my husband and I have done a great job of getting out with our son Roper, who is now sixteen months old. He’s been Nordic and downhill skiing. We’ve taken him hiking, sledding and even mountain biking. He’s splashed around in rivers and lakes. And of course he’s been camping.
The truth is that Roper had no choice but to join us. He was strapped down in a front carrier, back pack or bike trailer, unable to do anything but go along with our half-baked ideas. Beginning this year, I want Roper to be a willing participant in our adventures. I want him to turn to us and ask if we can go again. And again. And again.
I realize that this will mean shorter trails with many pit stops. Our ski days will be more aptly named “expensive cocoa outings” and our mountain biking will become unbearably tame. We will, against our every desire, call it a day while Roper is still having fun so he’ll want to come back.
It’s going to be frustrating at times. I understand that. But it’s worth it if it instills a lifetime love of the outdoors. Eventually, I want Roper to experience the thrill of fresh tracks, peak bagging and log rides. In the short-term, I just want him to enjoy playing outside…and wear himself out enough to actually nap.