A promise I think I can keep

It is a new year which means the masses have made promises to themselves that can be broken at a moment’s notice. I’m no different. Last week, I thought long and hard about what kind of resolution I wanted to guilt myself into making.

I chose to steer clear of exercise because that always turns into a failure of epic proportions. I figured I’d let potential body sculpting be a surprise gift to myself if I decide to partake in forced exhaustive aerobics. By December 2013, if I happen to be 10 pounds less than I am now, I’ll celebrate by gaining it all back with holiday gorging.

This year, I’ve decided to do something that I’d have to be a complete and utter jerk to not want to accomplish, but will also be within the realm of attainability: become a better mom.

I don’t want to say I’m a bad mom because my kids love me, but let’s face it, the last 3 years have been pretty stressful on the whole family and I’ve been tuned out when it comes to extracurricular activities that were not exactly necessary.

It isn’t like Child Protective Services is going to come knocking on my door, but I’m also not even close to being a candidate for mother of the year either. I guess I’m somewhere between Mommy Dearest and June Cleaver; wire hangers are acceptable, but my kids get McDonald’s maybe more than they should.

I started my journey to becoming a better mom last Saturday with my daughter who received a Fairy Princess scrapbook set for Christmas.

Let me interject that I thought I would dabble into the world of scrapbooking about 12 years ago when a friend introduced me to some adorable items. I then saw how incredibly expensive this lifestyle can become and how cluttered your house can get with all the accessories needed for this hobby.

No thank you. I’ll just buy a photo album.

So my sweetheart plops this scrapbook set on my lap and begs to put it together. There are literally hundreds of little stickers, glittery objects, and pieces of decorated paper. I felt my eye begin to twitch because every fiber in my body was resisting, but the guilt center of my brain responded to her sad, brown puppy eyes and my mouth said, “Okay, honey. Just let me finish my coffee.”

First, we had to pick some photos which only served to remind me what a horrible mother I am. Everything has become digital since she was a baby and we have very few physical pictures of her since that time.

Because the glue stick was a joke and our house scissors have seen better days, we made a trip to Michaels for a craft run and Walmart to print photos.

When we finally began, I was the project coordinator and she was head of artistic direction. I didn’t agree with some of her color choices. For instance, she frequently placed stickers of one color on the background of the same color.

“That’s not what I would’ve done,” I muttered under my breath.

“What, mommy?” she asked. “Nothing, sweetie,” I said continuing to cut and paste the next background.

Five hours later, we had completed thirteen pages in what would appear to be an experiment in offensively tacky artwork accented with photographs. Awesome! She was happy and I’m well on my way to fulfilling my new year’s resolution.

Mother of the year 2013, I’m coming for you!