Realistic Resolutions for a New Mom
Re-framing self-improvement now that a kid is taking up most of my free time
This didn't even feel like a year. In 2021, time stacked on itself; November and December happened at the same time, January thru March took place over the course of a weekend, July was a week after August. There was no May, but there were three Octobers.
I spent most of the year pregnant. There were long stretches where I didn't leave the house except to buy groceries or take the dog out. I slept across the hallway from the room where I worked. I recorded podcasts and cable news hits in front of a three-panel room divider screen with a blown-up Van Gogh print on it. When I was feeling saucy, I'd set up my laptop on the dining room table.
I was waiting for a baby to arrive, begging biology to hurry up, and every day since she was born I've been playing catch up. There is not enough time to do anything except get set up at a desk and take a deep breath before it's time to tend to the baby again. I haven't brushed my hair in several days. I do not know where my hairbrush is since we moved into a new house-- not that I've spent much time looking.
So, realistically, if I'm setting intentions for the next year, I have to take the new life I've chosen for myself into account. I almost certainly won't be climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, but I might do the indoors equivalent of it, like reading Robert Caro's books on LBJ.
To hold myself accountable, here are my Realistic New Year's Resolutions for A New Mom.
1: Start running again.
I used to love running. I loved it so much that I ran in organized long distance races, the kind where you get a branded sweat-wicking tee shirt that you can wear to other races. (Do not wear the race tee shirt during the race it advertises; that's like wearing a band's tee shirt to the band's concert.) When I lived in New York, I was spoiled, my place was two blocks from Central Park, and about a 5 minute jog from Riverside Park. I ran almost every day.
That changed when I moved to Los Angeles. LA is not a place to run around on the sidewalks. In New York, the sidewalks are dirty, but in LA, the air and the sidewalks are dirty. Unless you live near the beach, it's not an ideal running city.
Maybe next year I can overcome it. If I go on one run in 2022, it'll be more than I ran in 2021.
2: Get into embroidery
I don't care whether or not needlepoint is cool or not; I just need something to do with my hands when I am watching TV that is not scrolling aimlessly through my phone. The two-screen life I've set up for myself is rotting my brain like brushing with pop rocks would rot my teeth.
Besides, embroidery will help me work out my aggression-- What other feminine hobby that can be done indoors involves stabbing something over and over again?
3: Stop watching the same things over and over
I've always self-soothed with familiar TV or movies, things I could recite from the top (including music cues and actor inflections). But there's so much content out there now that rewatching things I've seen fifty times isn't really doing much for me beyond allowing me to burrow into complacency. I still haven't seen The Apartment, Jaws, or Jeanne Dielman. I've never seen The Wire. I'm going to die someday, and I will die having not seen all of the movies and TV that would have made me think or laugh.
4: Do not get obsessed with my kid's percentiles and milestones
Anybody who has a child knows that doctors are always providing us with percentiles and books are always telling us about milestones, how our kid compares to the other kids their age and what they should be doing at what age if they're "normal." When I had my first big ultrasound at around 20 weeks, the doctor gave us this long list of percentiles, and I still remember some of them. She was in the 30th percentile for height and weight, and something like the 90th percentile for head circumference. Those numbers held into her babyhood.
The thing about the percentiles and milestones is that they're averages over populations. They're not worth getting worked up over unless their doctor is worked up over it. Who cares if she's a little smaller than the other kids or a little bigger? I didn't want my kid to grow up to be an NFL lineman or professional horse jockey anyway.
5: One in, Two out policy for all new clothing
I have too many clothes, and a lot of them are holdout items from a previous life when I was appearing in wide shots on HLN two or three times a week. I can dispose of the solid primary color dresses that didn't wash me out on camera.
However, I do enjoy new clothes, because I'm a human being who likes the occasional consumerist rush of dopamine. This plan allows me to enjoy new clothing while ruthlessly disposing of the old.
6: Be as kind and supportive as possible to other mothers and people who are trying to conceive.
This means avoiding the following phrases in almost all situations:
(to a pregnant person) "You're huge!/ You're tiny!"
Just wait until X happens, it's so much worse/harder than whatever you're currently going through
I only gained X weight and I lost it in X amount of time.
"Natural birth," unless I'm also doing sarcastic air quotes, since all birth is natural.
Any pissing contest type stories of one-downsmanship, where one party in the conversation attempts to out-hardship the other. It's hard for everybody and we are all trying our best.
Horror stories about my own birth to people who are about to give birth and did not ask. That's what therapists are for.
Anything but a compassionate listening ear for anybody struggling with infertility or pregnancy loss.
7: Remember that I am more than a mother
Lots of people lose themselves entirely in parenthood. I don't have to be one of them.
Image via Shutterstock