My 1999 New Year’s resolutions: I will stop biting my nails. (See New Year’s resolutions 1968 to 1988.)
I will not scream at my children except under extreme provocation.
I will consider the phrases “And this will affect me how?” and “You don’t rule this world!” extreme provocation.
No more M&Ms for breakfast, I am not kidding this time!
I will try not to curse as much while watching the news.
I will try to hold my rate of children’s activities-forgotten about below 50 percent.
I will get better at managing money. (See New Year’s resolutions 1980 to 1988.)
I will try to use my time more efficiently by exploring new multi-tasking combinations. (Applying mascara while riding bicycle to train station? Chopping vegetables while driving car pool? Brushing hair while brushing teeth?)
I will stop calling the dog “baby” in public.
I will try to care about Y2K.
I will look into realistic avenues for saving enough money for college (racetrack, Lotto, adoption by extremely wealthy person yearning for 40-something daughter with large credit-card bills.)
I will hope never again to hear the words “president” and “genitalia” in the same sentence.
I will sew on in 1999 the buttons that fell off in 1998.
I will try to remember when my kids are driving me crazy that the day will come when I will wish they were there to drive me crazy.
I will realize that they still will drive me crazy.
In order to reduce time spent on housework, I will institute new family rules: No eating. No using the bathroom. No wearing clothes.
I will force myself to listen to the Backstreet Boys.
In order to get more done in less time, I will drive 30 miles per hour above the speed limit, honk the horn more and do my walking errands running.
I will try not to lose my hat.
I will try to stop caring about the little lines above my lip.
I will be glad that I have the luxury of caring about the little lines above my lip.
I will spend more time doing nothing.
I will spend less money buying endless variations of pale frosted nail polish in an attempt to achieve manicure nirvana.
I will speed up.
I will slow down.
I will remind myself how much more pleasant life is, when I am not rushing around.
I will remind myself, on the other hand, that I won’t have to rush around anymore when I’m dead.
I will try to stop seeing aerobic exercise as a cruel torment that I can skip in good conscience if I am too sleepy or too crabby or too lazy, and try to start seeing it as a cruel torment that I can skip only if I come up with better excuses.
I will schedule hanging-around time with my children in my planner.
I will make more time in my life by reclaiming wasted moments, such as the five seconds I let conditioner sit on my hair in the shower.
I will deal with my chronic sleep deprivation by drinking more caffeine.
I will try to make it through another year deluding myself that I don’t need bifocals.
I will clean up the family room. (See New Year`s resolutions 1991 through 1998.)
I will try to answer e-mail in the year in which it was sent.
I will be cheerful.
I will be grateful.
I will grow another two inches.
I will go to the ATM less.
I will think about how lucky I am.
I will not covet my neighbor’s master bedroom suite.
I will figure out my life. (See New Year’s resolutions 1970 to 1998.)
I will accept the fact that life doesn’t always figure.
