I saw this squirrel on my run the other day and decided it was a good omen for the year. I’m feeling particularly confident about that, which is why I decided to go ahead and look into the future to see what this year will bring . . . .
I predict that in 2015 I will eat more chocolate than I did in 2014. That’s the hope, anyway.
I predict that my kids will have real bedding by the end of the year. You know: two sheets+quilt+pillows+pillowcases. I also predict that they will be completely puzzled and have no idea what to do with them.
I predict more cake baking in my kitchen.
I predict that some of those cakes will actually look good. (But only after lots and lots of practice.)
I predict that I will still be really bad at getting to bed at a reasonable hour.
I predict Manchild will lose 5 teeth. And begin to look more like the grown up he already is on the inside.
I predict more difficult conversations with the kids. Some brought on by happenings around the world. Some by our own family and individual trials and triumphs. They may never be easy to talk about, but talking them out will be easier—and better—than keeping them in.
There will be goodbyes in 2015. Some of them welcome (like Manchild’s baby teeth). Some less so. How many of our Brooklyn friends will be elsewhere a year from now? After The Great Exodus of 2014, it feels like we don’t have many left to lose.
There will be hellos as well. Lots, I hope. Big, important ones.
Squish will maintain his rightful place as cutest kid in the class into his first grade year. He will also ease up on his “I only play with girls” rule.
Some things that have worked for a long time will no longer work. Some things that have worked for a long time will still work, but we will change them anyway. Just for something new. Like, maybe, our breakfast menu.
Speaking of food/cooking, I predict that I will build upon the success of 2014 and become even better at vegetables.
The kids will get to color in a new state on their “States I’ve Been To” map. (But first they should probably color in all the ones they’ve already been to.)
Running will make a comeback as a source of inspiration/place of peace for me—and it will continue to be the thing that always makes me feel like I accomplished something—even if the rest of the day is a mess of frustration, dead ends, and unfinished (and probably unstarted) business.
There will be more music in our house this year. (It’s bound to happen: we have a e-piano now.)
There will be more dancing, too.
Our downstairs neighbors will have more reasons to complain, but we’ll be too busy having pillow fights and jumping off beds to care. (Okay, probably not, actually, but can I just pretend for a minute?)
There will lots of trying. Some failing. Some trying again. And some letting go and moving on.
“Let It Go” will still be on heavy rotation at our house. Always and forever. After all, Little Miss has claimed it as her own.
I will learn to let go of some of the hopes and dreams, some of the emotions and possessions I’ve been holding onto for a long time. And while I will probably pine for the “ghost ship” I could have been on long into the future, I hope that, for the most part, I see that the ship I’m on is pretty great.
Because it is. I can see that pretty clearly from right here.