by Kelley Lindberg
See all those clean, white, blank squares on that shiny new calendar? Such a feeling of possibility, of promise, of optimism!
Half of mine are already scribbled in.
I spent the first day of the New Year filling in all the things I know will happen this year – birthdays, regular meetings, doctor and dentist appointments, sports practices, music lessons, and so on. It didn’t take long for 2011 to look exactly like 2010.
Then I sat down to think about some New Year’s goals. Funny, they look an awful lot like last year’s, too.
For a few minutes, I was kind of depressed. Gee, I thought. Didn’t I make any progress at all? But then I remembered… it’s not the destination, but the journey that’s important.
So what if my New Year’s resolutions look the same from year to year? I think that just means I’m consistent. My priorities haven’t changed. The things I enjoy doing haven’t changed. The people I love haven’t changed. Their needs haven’t changed.
So why should my goals?
And thinking about my year in GREAT BIG IMPORTANT HEADLINES can be misleading. We all know that sometimes it’s the little things that matter most. The new allergy-friendly recipes I found that make life a little tastier. The time I’ve spent with family and friends. The things I’ve watched my son learn and the new ideas I’ve watched him consider. The people I’ve connected with. The beautiful aspects of life on this earth that I’ve tried to appreciate.
So I’m embracing my goals from last year once again. (I like to call it “recycling.”) I’ll continue to find ways to simplify, spend less, and share more. I’ll keep writing because that’s what I love, and cleaning house because it’s a necessary evil. I’ll let the set-backs roll off my shoulders, and the successes buoy me up. I’ll notice the beautiful things around me, and I’ll try to make the world cleaner, safer, and more positive as I move through it. I’ll exercise because my body needs it, and I’ll keep writing and talking about food allergies because it might help someone out there whom I haven’t even met yet.
So here’s to a New Year filled with all the promise, optimism, and possibility that those scribbled-in squares represent. Let’s just think of each of those little squares as another postcard to ourselves from along the journey.
Happy New Year!
Showing posts with label New Year's resolutions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Year's resolutions. Show all posts
Monday, January 3, 2011
Monday, January 11, 2010
Learning New Things
by Kelley Lindberg
I didn’t list “learn new things” as one of my New Year’s resolutions. I really didn’t. My brain is full enough as it is, and I worry that if I learn something new, it will shove something old and important out the back door, like my phone number or my son’s name or the words to that old Kansas song.
But here I am, eleven days into the new year, and I’ve managed to learn a whole bunch of new things. For example, my son got a Wii for Christmas, and I got myself the Wii Fit Plus game. So I’ve been learning that my body is in terrible shape. I’ve learned about muscles in strange places that can become sore, even though it doesn’t seem like they’re doing anything. I’ve learned that my right side is way wobblier than my left side. I’ve learned that the animated Wii personal trainer who’s teaching me how to do yoga sports an ugly streak of sarcasm, despite his boyish good looks.
But my physical inadequacies aren’t the only things I’ve learned this year. I’ve learned that the only way I’m going to get my cookbook sold is to send it to publishers who might be interested in publishing it. Hmm. That’s kind of a novel thought. So I’ve started doing just that.
I’ve learned a bunch of new ways to cook things in the last eleven days, because I’m re-energized about my cookbook and about cooking in general now. My family keeps looking shocked as we sit down to the table and they discover yet a new creation. So far, my experiments been turning out really well. So I’m shocked, too.
Speaking of experiments, I’ve learned that nothing ruins a 5th grade science fair experiment measuring which bird feeder the backyard birds prefer than a marauding hawk that attacks and eats a hapless finch on the back fence a few days before the experiment starts, and scares every bird away from the neighborhood for weeks. But because of that, my son and I have learned a few interesting lessons about recovering from experiments gone awry, so that’s been okay, too.
I’ve learned that when all your friends go on diets, it’s hard to go to breakfast with them because they talk about how much weight they’ve lost and they order things like cottage cheese. So then I eat less, too. And that’s a good thing.
I’ve learned that I can prepare a new presentation to give to a group of writers with just a few hours’ notice, and that I no longer get nervous before a presentation. That’s a good thing, because I have several presentations coming up in the next few weeks. And I’ve learned that I’m glad I can be a last-minute “Help! My speaker canceled. What are you doing tonight?” kind of person.
And I’ve learned that the older my son gets, the more loving he gets. I don’t know… maybe he made a New Year’s resolution to hug his mom more, or maybe he’s just delirious with joy over getting a new Wii, but I’ve been adoring the extra attention no matter what the reason.
So here I am, learning new things despite every intention. Enjoying new things. Welcoming new things.
I may be an old dog, but these new tricks aren’t as bad as I thought. And guess what? I still know all the words to that old Kansas song. “Carry on my wayward…” no, wait. How does that go again?
I didn’t list “learn new things” as one of my New Year’s resolutions. I really didn’t. My brain is full enough as it is, and I worry that if I learn something new, it will shove something old and important out the back door, like my phone number or my son’s name or the words to that old Kansas song.
But here I am, eleven days into the new year, and I’ve managed to learn a whole bunch of new things. For example, my son got a Wii for Christmas, and I got myself the Wii Fit Plus game. So I’ve been learning that my body is in terrible shape. I’ve learned about muscles in strange places that can become sore, even though it doesn’t seem like they’re doing anything. I’ve learned that my right side is way wobblier than my left side. I’ve learned that the animated Wii personal trainer who’s teaching me how to do yoga sports an ugly streak of sarcasm, despite his boyish good looks.
But my physical inadequacies aren’t the only things I’ve learned this year. I’ve learned that the only way I’m going to get my cookbook sold is to send it to publishers who might be interested in publishing it. Hmm. That’s kind of a novel thought. So I’ve started doing just that.
I’ve learned a bunch of new ways to cook things in the last eleven days, because I’m re-energized about my cookbook and about cooking in general now. My family keeps looking shocked as we sit down to the table and they discover yet a new creation. So far, my experiments been turning out really well. So I’m shocked, too.
Speaking of experiments, I’ve learned that nothing ruins a 5th grade science fair experiment measuring which bird feeder the backyard birds prefer than a marauding hawk that attacks and eats a hapless finch on the back fence a few days before the experiment starts, and scares every bird away from the neighborhood for weeks. But because of that, my son and I have learned a few interesting lessons about recovering from experiments gone awry, so that’s been okay, too.
I’ve learned that when all your friends go on diets, it’s hard to go to breakfast with them because they talk about how much weight they’ve lost and they order things like cottage cheese. So then I eat less, too. And that’s a good thing.
I’ve learned that I can prepare a new presentation to give to a group of writers with just a few hours’ notice, and that I no longer get nervous before a presentation. That’s a good thing, because I have several presentations coming up in the next few weeks. And I’ve learned that I’m glad I can be a last-minute “Help! My speaker canceled. What are you doing tonight?” kind of person.
And I’ve learned that the older my son gets, the more loving he gets. I don’t know… maybe he made a New Year’s resolution to hug his mom more, or maybe he’s just delirious with joy over getting a new Wii, but I’ve been adoring the extra attention no matter what the reason.
So here I am, learning new things despite every intention. Enjoying new things. Welcoming new things.
I may be an old dog, but these new tricks aren’t as bad as I thought. And guess what? I still know all the words to that old Kansas song. “Carry on my wayward…” no, wait. How does that go again?
Monday, January 4, 2010
Making a Habit of New Year's Resolutions
by Kelley Lindberg
So, how are those New Year’s resolutions going? Mine are going… um… hang on a minute. I have to go wash the potato chip grease off my fingers… OK, I’m back. Well, my resolution to cut back on potato chips isn’t going too well. And my resolution about keeping the house clean? Yeah, that hasn’t gone very well, either.
The big one, though, is about trying to use my time more efficiently. Right. That’s a bust, too. I’m trying to cram some exercise into my schedule, and it’s taking way too much time away from everything else, so I can tell it’s going to get dropped pretty soon, and I’ll be right back to complaining about my inefficient but familiar routine.
I’m not sure why I bother thinking about resolutions. My habits are old and ingrained, and I don’t change until I absolutely have to. And that generally means lives have to be at stake. I don’t think I’m alone in this.
That’s why changing a family’s eating habits and diet because of newly discovered food allergies is so challenging. But guess what? Most of us successfully do it. Why? Because lives really ARE at stake.
But there’s something good about habits, too. Although it may take a while to establish a new habit, once you have, it becomes just as easy to maintain as the old habit was. It eventually works its way into our routine, and we once again find ourselves on autopilot, flying through our day with the new habit firmly in place.
When we first learn that we have to eliminate something like milk or eggs or wheat from our diet, it feels like an enormous earthquake ripping through the landscape of our lives. But we have no choice but to pick up the pieces and start to rebuild. Soon we’ve found new brands that are safe, new recipes that we like, new ways to add a substitute nutrition source back into our diet. In a month or two, we find that the aftershocks have lessened to the point where we go entire days without noticing them. Another month or two after that, and we’re cruising in the fast lane again, with most of the new detours familiar now and well-marked.
That new eating habit is now a part of us, just like our old ones were. And when we stop to look at how far we’ve come, we take a deep breath and feel pretty good about ourselves. So if you’re just starting out on a new diet, whether it’s because of food allergies or other health goals, take heart. It looks hard at first, but you know deep inside that you’ve created habits before. You can create this one, too.
I keep telling myself that. And you’ll be proud of me – I didn’t eat as many potato chips today as I usually do. Maybe there’s hope for those other New Year’s resolutions, too.
Let me know how your resolutions are going!
So, how are those New Year’s resolutions going? Mine are going… um… hang on a minute. I have to go wash the potato chip grease off my fingers… OK, I’m back. Well, my resolution to cut back on potato chips isn’t going too well. And my resolution about keeping the house clean? Yeah, that hasn’t gone very well, either.
The big one, though, is about trying to use my time more efficiently. Right. That’s a bust, too. I’m trying to cram some exercise into my schedule, and it’s taking way too much time away from everything else, so I can tell it’s going to get dropped pretty soon, and I’ll be right back to complaining about my inefficient but familiar routine.
I’m not sure why I bother thinking about resolutions. My habits are old and ingrained, and I don’t change until I absolutely have to. And that generally means lives have to be at stake. I don’t think I’m alone in this.
That’s why changing a family’s eating habits and diet because of newly discovered food allergies is so challenging. But guess what? Most of us successfully do it. Why? Because lives really ARE at stake.
But there’s something good about habits, too. Although it may take a while to establish a new habit, once you have, it becomes just as easy to maintain as the old habit was. It eventually works its way into our routine, and we once again find ourselves on autopilot, flying through our day with the new habit firmly in place.
When we first learn that we have to eliminate something like milk or eggs or wheat from our diet, it feels like an enormous earthquake ripping through the landscape of our lives. But we have no choice but to pick up the pieces and start to rebuild. Soon we’ve found new brands that are safe, new recipes that we like, new ways to add a substitute nutrition source back into our diet. In a month or two, we find that the aftershocks have lessened to the point where we go entire days without noticing them. Another month or two after that, and we’re cruising in the fast lane again, with most of the new detours familiar now and well-marked.
That new eating habit is now a part of us, just like our old ones were. And when we stop to look at how far we’ve come, we take a deep breath and feel pretty good about ourselves. So if you’re just starting out on a new diet, whether it’s because of food allergies or other health goals, take heart. It looks hard at first, but you know deep inside that you’ve created habits before. You can create this one, too.
I keep telling myself that. And you’ll be proud of me – I didn’t eat as many potato chips today as I usually do. Maybe there’s hope for those other New Year’s resolutions, too.
Let me know how your resolutions are going!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Future Me Says It’s Going to Be Okay
by Kelley Lindberg
2009 is winding down. For that matter, so is the decade.
It’s hard to believe that at the beginning of this decade (and century, and millennium, by the way), I was still feeling like a brand-new mom. My son was a year old, but I was still discovering a million inadequacies in my mothering skills – he was already well-established as the Human Whirlwind, he’d added walking to his repertoire of things that could propel him into disaster, and as the only mid-thirties mom I knew, I was feeling wholly isolated and incompetent.
And just think… I was still about four months away from discovering that he was allergic to peanuts and tree nuts. As overwhelmed as I already was, I was completely unaware that in a few months my “overwhelminess” was going to double.
Whew.
If I could go back in a time machine and sit myself down for a little heart-to-heart chat (okay, we wouldn’t have been able to sit – one of us would have been up walking in circles with him in our arms, or chasing along behind him trying to keep him out of trouble), there are a lot of things I would tell that younger me.
The most important thing I’d say, though, would be that it would all turn out okay eventually. That’s the thing I most needed to hear then, because it was the thing I least believed.
I needed to hear that, as stubborn as he was, he would never surrender to the concept of turning around to crawl down stairs backwards, but that eventually his little legs would be long enough that he could walk down steps forwards without falling. And that would be okay.
I needed to hear that eventually he would sleep all night long, and in his own bed.
I needed to hear that he would always be quickly frustrated, but that eventually he would find ways to solve problems without hitting someone else (at least most of the time).
I needed to hear that I would find wonderful friends who would support me, encourage me, understand me, commiserate with me, and celebrate with me.
I needed to hear that the bundle of energy that seemed so destructive and taxing back then would evolve into a highly intelligent, highly enthusiastic, highly entertaining kid who would make me laugh far more than he would make me growl. Eventually.
And I needed to hear that living with food allergies would add a layer of challenge to our lives, but it certainly wasn’t impossible, and that it would get easier as he got older.
So now he’s eleven years old, I’m a little older and wiser (okay, a lot older and only a little wiser), and a new decade is starting again. This new decade will include his teenage years, dating, driver’s education, high school graduation, and even the beginnings of college, all of it made more complicated by his food allergies.
I have to admit, it looks awfully daunting from this point of view. So I’m going to hope that somewhere in the future, there’s an older me looking back, wishing she could tell me now that it will all turn out okay.
Eventually.
Here’s to you, Future Me. Thanks for the encouragement. I’m going to need it.
Happy New Year, everyone!
2009 is winding down. For that matter, so is the decade.
It’s hard to believe that at the beginning of this decade (and century, and millennium, by the way), I was still feeling like a brand-new mom. My son was a year old, but I was still discovering a million inadequacies in my mothering skills – he was already well-established as the Human Whirlwind, he’d added walking to his repertoire of things that could propel him into disaster, and as the only mid-thirties mom I knew, I was feeling wholly isolated and incompetent.
And just think… I was still about four months away from discovering that he was allergic to peanuts and tree nuts. As overwhelmed as I already was, I was completely unaware that in a few months my “overwhelminess” was going to double.
Whew.
If I could go back in a time machine and sit myself down for a little heart-to-heart chat (okay, we wouldn’t have been able to sit – one of us would have been up walking in circles with him in our arms, or chasing along behind him trying to keep him out of trouble), there are a lot of things I would tell that younger me.
The most important thing I’d say, though, would be that it would all turn out okay eventually. That’s the thing I most needed to hear then, because it was the thing I least believed.
I needed to hear that, as stubborn as he was, he would never surrender to the concept of turning around to crawl down stairs backwards, but that eventually his little legs would be long enough that he could walk down steps forwards without falling. And that would be okay.
I needed to hear that eventually he would sleep all night long, and in his own bed.
I needed to hear that he would always be quickly frustrated, but that eventually he would find ways to solve problems without hitting someone else (at least most of the time).
I needed to hear that I would find wonderful friends who would support me, encourage me, understand me, commiserate with me, and celebrate with me.
I needed to hear that the bundle of energy that seemed so destructive and taxing back then would evolve into a highly intelligent, highly enthusiastic, highly entertaining kid who would make me laugh far more than he would make me growl. Eventually.
And I needed to hear that living with food allergies would add a layer of challenge to our lives, but it certainly wasn’t impossible, and that it would get easier as he got older.
So now he’s eleven years old, I’m a little older and wiser (okay, a lot older and only a little wiser), and a new decade is starting again. This new decade will include his teenage years, dating, driver’s education, high school graduation, and even the beginnings of college, all of it made more complicated by his food allergies.
I have to admit, it looks awfully daunting from this point of view. So I’m going to hope that somewhere in the future, there’s an older me looking back, wishing she could tell me now that it will all turn out okay.
Eventually.
Here’s to you, Future Me. Thanks for the encouragement. I’m going to need it.
Happy New Year, everyone!
Monday, January 5, 2009
New Year’s Resolutions 2009
Well, the New Year is underway, and so far, things are going pretty well. Except for the part about losing weight (I gained 5 pounds over Christmas), exercising more (I carried the laundry from room to room – does that count?), working on my novel (haven’t touched it since November), eating healthy (that pizza last night was sure tasty), keeping my house cleaner (the Christmas trees are still up, decorations cover every flat surface, and now there are boxes piled in the living room waiting for me to find the time to put it all away for next year), becoming rich (the lottery tickets I bought in Texas didn’t win), and getting organized (I know that bill is somewhere under this pile of papers – or maybe that pile of papers, or…).
Sigh. A nice, shiny New Year, and I’ve already put a hundred nicks and dents in it. Here we are, Day 5 of 2009, and things look pretty much like they did on Day 365 of 2008. (And, come to think of it, Day 365 of 2007.)
Maybe that’s not all bad. There’s comfort in consistency, after all.
So what if my goals for 2009 look identical to my goals from 2008? They were good goals, and they’re hardly used, so they still look brand-new. I’m all about recycling.
Better yet, as I sit here at my cluttered desk, surrounded by dusty Christmas decorations, maybe I’ll just skip all the big life-changing goals and concentrate on things I like doing. I’m going to continue creating new recipes for my food-allergic son and his friends. I’m going to read more books. I’ll continue to take on freelance writing assignments. I’m going to make time for lunch or coffee with friends more often. I’ll keep writing my novel. I’ll plan the occasional night out with my husband. And I’ll continue to lead the Davis County chapter of the Utah Food Allergy Network.
There. That sounds like a reasonable set of goals. Now I can ignore the Christmas decorations for another day, right?
Sigh. A nice, shiny New Year, and I’ve already put a hundred nicks and dents in it. Here we are, Day 5 of 2009, and things look pretty much like they did on Day 365 of 2008. (And, come to think of it, Day 365 of 2007.)
Maybe that’s not all bad. There’s comfort in consistency, after all.
So what if my goals for 2009 look identical to my goals from 2008? They were good goals, and they’re hardly used, so they still look brand-new. I’m all about recycling.
Better yet, as I sit here at my cluttered desk, surrounded by dusty Christmas decorations, maybe I’ll just skip all the big life-changing goals and concentrate on things I like doing. I’m going to continue creating new recipes for my food-allergic son and his friends. I’m going to read more books. I’ll continue to take on freelance writing assignments. I’m going to make time for lunch or coffee with friends more often. I’ll keep writing my novel. I’ll plan the occasional night out with my husband. And I’ll continue to lead the Davis County chapter of the Utah Food Allergy Network.
There. That sounds like a reasonable set of goals. Now I can ignore the Christmas decorations for another day, right?
Monday, December 31, 2007
New Year's Resolutions and Other Lost Causes
It’s everyone’s favorite time of year – that day when we look back on the past twelve months of our lives, take a deep breath, and say, “Can I get a do-over?” Then we look ahead, consider the vast array of possibilities, and say, “Geez, now what?”
So, in the spirit of the day, I’m going to sit down and dream up some thoughtful, carefully reasoned resolutions to better myself in the coming year. Either that, or I’m going to just make stuff up. You decide.
Kelley’s New Year’s Resolutions for 2008:
1. Mop the kitchen floor. (There, now I don’t have to do it today. I can safely put it off ‘til tomorrow, so that I can fulfill my first resolution.)
2. Stop referring to a family-sized bag of potato chips as “dinner.”
3. Spend less time lusting after Brad Pitt (because Johnny Depp is feeling slighted). (Um, and so is my husband.)
4. Finally figure out how to make pumpkin pie without milk or eggs.
5. Learn to say the word “No” without flinching.
6. Finish writing my food allergy cookbook and find a publisher for it.
7. Box up the books I’ve read, and read the books I haven’t.
8. Clean out my email inbox (3871 emails, and counting).
9. Locate the top of my desk. I’m pretty sure it’s there under all those “I need to look at this someday” papers.
10. Look at those “I need to look at this someday” papers. Oh, never mind.
11. Go sailing in the Caribbean.
12. Win $20 million in a lottery.
13. Exercise more.
14. Exercise at all.
15. Say the word “Exercise” without flinching.
16. Break resolutions #13 – 15 by January 2.
17. Find ways to reach more newly diagnosed food allergy sufferers to offer a helping hand.
18. Get all those photos from 2006 put into albums.
19. Laugh hysterically at the idea of putting all those photos from 2007 in albums. As if.
20. Refuse to take any photos at all in 2008. Hide husband’s camera.
21. Become addicted to caffeine.
22. Blame more of my personal problems on elected officials.
23. Pine away until Lost finally returns to TV in February. Spare some lusting time for Sawyer and Sayid.
24. Watch something in a movie theater that isn’t animated.
25. Be a good board member of the Utah Food Allergy Network.
26. Keep writing my blog. Try to make it funny at least once this year.
27. Learn to enjoy fake farting noises made by 9-year-old boys, because getting the 9-year-old boys to stop making fake farting noises isn’t working.
28. In between managing Homegrown Hospitality magazine, writing my blog, running the Davis County chapter of UFAN, writing articles for magazines, and writing my cookbook, find time to write something purely for fun.
29. Take down the Christmas decorations before the daffodils bloom.
30. Laugh at adversity. (Adversity really hates that.)
There you go: my 2008 plan for self-improvement. It promises to be a challenging, yet difficult year, sprinkled liberally with problems. But I won’t let that stop me from laughing, loving, and burning dinner at least once a day. After all, without goals, you’ll never know when you’ve failed and can safely give up.
So cheers to you, and happy 2008!
So, in the spirit of the day, I’m going to sit down and dream up some thoughtful, carefully reasoned resolutions to better myself in the coming year. Either that, or I’m going to just make stuff up. You decide.
Kelley’s New Year’s Resolutions for 2008:
1. Mop the kitchen floor. (There, now I don’t have to do it today. I can safely put it off ‘til tomorrow, so that I can fulfill my first resolution.)
2. Stop referring to a family-sized bag of potato chips as “dinner.”
3. Spend less time lusting after Brad Pitt (because Johnny Depp is feeling slighted). (Um, and so is my husband.)
4. Finally figure out how to make pumpkin pie without milk or eggs.
5. Learn to say the word “No” without flinching.
6. Finish writing my food allergy cookbook and find a publisher for it.
7. Box up the books I’ve read, and read the books I haven’t.
8. Clean out my email inbox (3871 emails, and counting).
9. Locate the top of my desk. I’m pretty sure it’s there under all those “I need to look at this someday” papers.
10. Look at those “I need to look at this someday” papers. Oh, never mind.
11. Go sailing in the Caribbean.
12. Win $20 million in a lottery.
13. Exercise more.
14. Exercise at all.
15. Say the word “Exercise” without flinching.
16. Break resolutions #13 – 15 by January 2.
17. Find ways to reach more newly diagnosed food allergy sufferers to offer a helping hand.
18. Get all those photos from 2006 put into albums.
19. Laugh hysterically at the idea of putting all those photos from 2007 in albums. As if.
20. Refuse to take any photos at all in 2008. Hide husband’s camera.
21. Become addicted to caffeine.
22. Blame more of my personal problems on elected officials.
23. Pine away until Lost finally returns to TV in February. Spare some lusting time for Sawyer and Sayid.
24. Watch something in a movie theater that isn’t animated.
25. Be a good board member of the Utah Food Allergy Network.
26. Keep writing my blog. Try to make it funny at least once this year.
27. Learn to enjoy fake farting noises made by 9-year-old boys, because getting the 9-year-old boys to stop making fake farting noises isn’t working.
28. In between managing Homegrown Hospitality magazine, writing my blog, running the Davis County chapter of UFAN, writing articles for magazines, and writing my cookbook, find time to write something purely for fun.
29. Take down the Christmas decorations before the daffodils bloom.
30. Laugh at adversity. (Adversity really hates that.)
There you go: my 2008 plan for self-improvement. It promises to be a challenging, yet difficult year, sprinkled liberally with problems. But I won’t let that stop me from laughing, loving, and burning dinner at least once a day. After all, without goals, you’ll never know when you’ve failed and can safely give up.
So cheers to you, and happy 2008!
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