Doesn’t everybody have one? The little motivator that prompts people to buy bowflexes and sign up for gym memberships and eat chopped celery for lunch. The same little motivators that tend to have a shelf life that expires anywhere from a week to a month after the champagne taste has washed out of your mouth.

In spite of knowing I’m going to probably drop them, I still make these things anyway. It takes 28 days to make a habit, and most resolutions end about seven days before that–so close to the goal, yet still so far away. I make the resolutions because even if they don’t stick, they still open pathways in my thinking that allow me to be receptive to the changes I hope to make. If I don’t manage to stick with the change, then at least I’m a step further along on the path to eventually doing so.

This year, my resolution is to not be terrified of losing my faculties. I’m starting to feel my age, and it’s scaring me. Having young kids means that my house gets visited by the germ fairy on a much more frequent basis, and all the little sniffles and coughs and fevers and yucks feel like they’re really taking their toll on my body. Aside from the illnesses, there’s the energy required to keep up with two active and mischievous little kids hell-bent on destruction and world domination (and dangerously close to their goals, I sometimes think).

Those of you out there who are mothers as well will know that Mom just doesn’t get sick, even when she does get sick. And Mom always comes after everyone else has been settled. Which leads into my next resolution–take better care of myself. With the frequency that I have been lately feeling that my mind is going (and a little bit of worrisome family history), I need to stay on top of the game. If my mind really is going, I need to fight that tooth and nail, and if it’s just a sad case of CRS by way of mental laziness, then it’s my job to kick myself in the ass until my brains work their way back up to the proper location.

Although this is my blog, I feel like some of this might be bordering on TMI. I always said I didn’t want my author blog to turn into my personal whine-fest, because it’s the wrong kind of whine with which to woo readers and/or connect with my community. But file this post under accountability, and to avoid breaking my personal taboo, I shall give you something amusing and/or thought-provoking.

Please enjoy my fondest wishes for you all for the New Year via the sentiments delivered at the Surrealist Compliment Generator.