While sipping my coffee and finishing up my egg white veggie omelette this morning, I decided to turn on the news. I rarely watch the news because I just can’t stand to give all the gloom and doom an audience, but since tomorrow marks the new year I figured I better see if I’d missed anything in 2014. I didn’t learn anything too disturbing or exciting really, but there was a story that irritated me slightly and made me nostalgic at the same time.
The report was about New Year’s resolutions. There’s nothing horrible about the idea of committing to something that will possibly improve the quality of your life. I can get behind that. After all, I recently recognized ( alright, in all honesty, for the umpteenth time in my adult life) that it’s better for me to have a veggie egg white omelette than, let’s say, 6 strips of bacon. I don’t like knowing this, but it’s true. It didn’t bother me that the report was touting how important it was to make those pacts with oneself. What bothered me was that the focus of the story was on children.
“It’s important for your kids to sit down and make a plan for their health in 2015” the reporter told us as images of toddlers filled the screen. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s necessary for kids to have goals and aspirations. I certainly fretted, planned and strived throughout my childhood. But come on! New Year’s resolutions are for adults to make as a knee jerk response to a belly full of champagne cocktails on December 31st, immediately fail to keep as of the next morning, and then feel guilty about the rest of the year. That’s how it’s always been damn it!
The kids shouldn’t be freaking out about promises for 2015. They should be enjoying this night. Right now. That’s what we did. New Year’s Eve was about being in your pajamas by 9:00 in case a short nap was required to go the distance. New Year’s Eve was about having a table full of great snacks to munch on while watching Dick Clark’s Rockin’ Eve. New Year’s Eve was about picking out the perfect noise making implements that could be found right in your very own kitchen and only required your enthusiasm to operate. New Year’s Eve was about standing on your porch at the stroke of midnight, banging the hell out of pots and pans. Simple as that.