February: Connect hearts. Film my parents telling some of their childhood antics. Help them write their stories. My father recently received a scary health diagnosis. While I am hopeful for a positive outcome, I also want to do whatever I can to preserve his special memories.
March: Begrudge my grudges. Twenty years into my marriage I still feel unaccepted by my in-laws. This, despite their being good people. In trying to figure out my place in their lives I have analyzed incident after incident, which has only resulted in a catalog of slights. It’s crippling me. I need to change and focus on the good.
April: Create circle journals with my teenagers. Use a notebook for each child in which I write a daily message, tell a joke, share a scripture, attach a comic strip, what have you. The circle element is when the child writes back. My oldest graduates from high school this year (well, he should). I will treasure having a record of our interactions, one that is a bit more official than texts.
May: Open career options. I have been a stay-at-home mom the last 18 years and am at a crossroads with my youngest now in school all day. Find out what I need to do to become a substitute teacher in my school district.
June: Make mom-child piano lessons permanent. They say the cobbler’s children never have shoes. My theory is that these children complain about the size, color and general shoe-making ability of their parent. Still, it kills me that I spend time imparting a skill to the neighbor kids that my own may never develop. (Notwithstanding how many times I’ve tried.) I hope to get a regular lesson schedule in place during the summer.
July: Conquer the 20 percent. When it comes to home improvement, my husband and I belong to the “80 percent Club.” We’re great at starting projects in our 50-year-old home. Finishing these projects? … Eh, not so much. OK, really, if the basement bathroom has been stripped to the studs for four years now and the garage ceiling has begged to be repaired for five years (I think, it’s been too long to remember!), one measly month won’t cure all. But during this month I can plan how to best align the simultaneous energy, time and funding that home improvement projects require.
August: Involve my children in serving a neighbor daily. I want to help my children see that they have opportunities every day to lift someone else.
September: Be a smarter squirrel. Huh? My family grows a garden. We (make that I)
freeze and can the fruits of our (my) labors to build up our food storage. But last year the harvest got the best of me and a lot of it spoiled before I used it. This year I will harvest what I can process that day – and if it’s not done by afternoon, I will give it to neighbors.
October: Edit my books. Ooh, that would be awesome if I had a manuscript to edit! No, I mean ruthlessly evaluating the mass of books in my home – sheet music, too – and determining which to keep and which to send packing. Minimize other collections, too.
November: Finish Christmas preparations (including budgeting and shopping) now so I don’t get bogged down in discouragement next month like I typically do. Actually send out a Christmas card. (A former creative outlet that has been missing in action the last three years.)
December: Improve my French. My two youngest children are part of a French-immersion program at their elementary school. Although I studied French for four years in junior and senior high, my 4th grader leaves me in the dust with what he can speak. I’m not sure how to measure this project. A trip to Paris, non? I wish.
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