Resolutions

“How do you measure a year in the life?” oh “Rent”, how you manage to ask the tough questions and still be fantastically musical at the same time.

Every year I quantify my life into seemingly pointless categories: How many books did I read? How many miles did I run? How many trips did we take? How well did you/me/he do in school?
And I look at that list of things to capture for another year and realize, it is not that important. Any of it. Sure, they are all easy to track with websites and report cards and hotel key cards (which I weirdly collect. And they roll around in my purse because I still haven’t bought something to put them in) but when I think about what is important to me, when I make that list of what matters it is none of those things. It is the moments that don’t get a click on goodreads or a workout added on daily mile. It is dancing around the living room to the “Time Warp” or snuggling on the couch while watching “The Big Bang Theory”.

It is jokes on the way home for the day or tickling his feet as we say goodnight. I am not sure those kinds of moments are at all quantifiable. But I want more of them. I will read less books and run fewer miles if I can have more of those.

So even though my new year’s resolutions on the unimportant stuff are pretty static: read 50 books, run 350 miles, lose 12 pounds, run a half marathon.

I also want to document the goals I have for 2011 that I can’t keep accurate track of: I want more hugs, more laughs, more sweet kisses and holding hands at the movies. I want to make him laugh more often and have him pat my head every night.

I want to play Clue almost every Friday and dance to Kings of Leon whenever we feel like it. Sod the dishwasher and the laundry, it will be there. These moments won’t be necessarily.
I honestly thought my immense love and adoration for the MP would start to wane as he got older. Boys who are say 6-10, in my general opinion, have always been runny nosed, skinned kneed punks in training. I assume like the boys who came before him that the MP would follow suit and the sheen would wear off a bit.

But as a matter of fact, I love him more today than I did when he was four and still part baby. Instead of becoming an eye rolling, dirty teeth, sweat pant wearing third grader, he is funnier, easier to talk to you and generally good humored compared to what I expected.

And how should I celebrate that fact? I am thinking with love and laughter and just more time being together. And maybe just maybe he will continue to grow into an easy going sweet fella that makes me want to forget the counting and just enjoy the seasons we share together.