So, here we are.
A brand new year.
A brand new decade.
In the interest of attempting a fresh start like one is pressured to do,
I even put on perfume today,
which is when my 11 year old, Tessa, walked in mid-spray and stood there looking confused,
no doubt because she’d seen me still in pajamas until 3pm.
Perfume Kerri was a big jump from the Kerri of an hour before.
“Wait. What’s happening? Are you going somewhere? What are you getting ready for?”
“*I* am getting ready for the rest of my life,”
I answered, chin-up and confidently.
“2020. All new me.”
She paused before laughing and saying,
“No…but, like, seriously.”
Really, who am I kidding?
Even Tessa is onto the fact that every year I proclaim the changes I hope to make in the new year, and every year I realize about 2 months in that no matter what
I still really just end up the same old me.
I will still stay up too late at night telling Netflix ‘Yes, I’m still watching,’
my dresser drawers will still barely close,
I will still really really really love cheese.
This is who I, Kerri, am,
and I actually really like me.
The girls have big plans, however.
Chloe, who is nearing 13, has declared that this is the year she will learn how to properly open food packaging “instead of ripping into it like a wild animal the way that she always has;”
And I’ll never forget how last year my youngest, Paige, watched the ball drop in New York on TV, and became mesmerized with Snoop Dog and his fur coat.
I could see her wheels turning.
Her pupils turned to hearts.
PAIGE: “Snoop Dog is wearing fur…
How much money does he hab?! Wike, a MILLION?!”
ME: “Way more than a million.”
PAIGE: “Wike….enough for CONVERTIBLES?!”
ME: “Yes. Definitely enough for convertibles.”
PAIGE: “Does he hab a mascot? Wike, a person who dwesses up and just bees wif him?”
ME: “Are you asking because you want that job?”
PAIGE: “Yes. One hundwed percent.”
Today she told me this is still her resolution.
“Become Snoop Dog’s mascot.”
(And maybe even get to wear some of his fur)
I admire their sparkly-eyed excitement, welcoming every new thing.
Last year I was met with so many changes
I struggled to even keep up.
My mom had just moved away, my oldest daughter got married, two other daughters started middle school, they stopped wanting to be seen with me in public.
I struggled to remember who I really am, and where I fit in this foreign new land.
I’m new-thing trigger shy now.
My emotions took a huge hit through it all,
and right now the thought of any more change makes me just want to cling onto the way that it is right now with all ten of my sparkly New Year’s fingernails.
I have three daughters left who have never known heartbreak.
I have one left who still falls asleep when I read to her.
One who still always climbs into my bed.
Sometimes you don’t want things to change at all.
As I stood looking in the mirror today,
rarely used perfume bottle in hand,
I thought about all the resolutions I’ve failed at, but how this year I’ve grown to be more OK with that.
This year deep loneliness helped me get back into my art.
Color born out of gray.
This year the ache of missing my daughter was balanced with the absolute joy of seeing her in her happiness.
This last decade of my life has been the decade I most often dreamed of.
The one with new babies at home.
Snapping onesies, chopping up fruit.
This last decade was Tooth Fairy duty, and Santa Claus magic, it was first day of kindergartens, and smooth chubby cheeks.
So I say goodbye to this last year and decade gently.
I do not slam the door on this room that holds my greatest treasures;
Because triumphs and failures, changes, losses, victory and grief,
everything I have ever dreamed of,
and everything I have learned in between are what make up the person that looks back at me in the mirror today.
A person with a life and people I love enough to not want it to change.
An old acquaintance I hope to never forget.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
