Goals Shmoles

Naturally, January rolls around and it seems a fitting time to get all introspective. This is only problematic if December included scratching off bucket list items, like running the Honolulu Marathon...and living to tell about it. And by “live to tell about it,” what I actually mean is live to shout it from the rooftops and then in shameless, conceited glory, pre-order a headstone. Engraven with my finishing time, of course. Beloved Mother, Friend to All, 5:05:21 In your face. Classy, I know.

That's another thing I've learned about goal setting. If you're going to make things happen, why not resort to shameless bragging rights forever more when you actually do have decent follow through? It's a sure fire way to make friends. Because humility is such a crock.

So, you'll have to pardon me, if all this New Year's Resolution talk feels a trifle anti-climatic compared to last year's ground breaking feat. No one tells you about this dirty little running secret, by the way. Sure you'll read plenty about a runners high, something I can now attest to. For a solid five days post finish line, I felt like Queen of the Universe! Bring it, people, I can conquer the world. Day Six, that was a different story altogether. The unexpected slump that chases on the heels of finish line exhilaration hit me blindside, lingering around like an uninvited house guest, overstaying his welcome several weeks. It's was a funk with a Capital F. It's odd to me that Fun and Funk can even start with the same letters, such an insult to my friend, Fun.  Even so, despite the royal funk post-marathon, the damage was done. I've caught the Marathon Bug and already plan to run one more, if only to feel that rush again across the finish line. Maui 2012, Go Big or Go Home.  After that, my marathon glory will be over.

So therein lies the problem, 2010's Big Goal: run marathon, check. If 2011's lofty goal isn't something along the lines of Establish World Peace, well then, what's the point? Am I being ridiculous? Don't answer that, Mr. Forget-me-not.

Listen, when it comes to goals, I mean business. I'd dip into my Bucket List again, to pull out one for 2011, but the list isn't that long. Irrationally—because clearly I've mastered that personality quirk—if I go systematically checking them off, year after year, I'll be dead before 40. So much for a Bucket List.

In all my hunting around for a decent sounding goal, despite the obstacles, I managed to find a few worth my time. Except, like anything goal that fits into the category of impressive, those darn kids make it impossible! I don't see why they keep insisting on wearing clean underwear or eating dinner every night. I have dreams, you know!

So, my real problem isn't finding a new goal, it's finding a goal that fits realistically into the context of my life as a mother with young children. Mr. Forget-me-not, and all his manly sensitivity, mistakenly said I use this line like a tired excuse. I can't remember why I didn't kick him to the couch after that one. Probably because I felt sorry enough to want to pat him on the head, like a sad lost puppy. Ah, the clueless life of a Superhero. He can't be expected to see the big picture every time. Poor thing.

It'd be a different story if every morning after breakfast, I kissed our three excuses on the head before dashing out the door to save the world. Only then could he more fully appreciate the difficulty of setting a goal to find my dream job, when I can't exactly quit my day job? Did I really train for a marathon, over several grueling months? Considering the “excuses” I could have made, it's even more miraculous an accomplishment. Not that I'm one to brag, or anything.

I adhere to a religious doctrine that esteems motherhood with godliness. No pressure there, right? While I agree with the underlying premise, in the end, the idea may be off course a bit. But who am I to say? for the time being, a church with a Mother God fixation does give added weight every time I have to haul Wooly off to his room for another time-out. Because.I. Am. The. Boss...means so much more when God is in my maternal corner. So yes, with or without any added strings of religious doctrine, running the daily marathon of motherhood, raising children who feel loved and know joy, it is an accomplishment that stands supreme. Three cheers for Mothers Everywhere! I get all of that. I promise, I do.

Selfish as it may sound, because all this ME-talk does feel uncomfortably selfish, I want more. Motherhood: in so many ways, it's just not doing it for me. And Wooly, although not entirely to blame for this, does so very often make me believe in Day Care like I've never believed in it before.

I want something beyond my all encompassing role of wife and mother, a life to call my own. Dare I say it, I want a job that doesn't include stain treatments, crock-pot recipes, or car-pool coordination. This may not be realistic, given present circumstances, but my soul bubbles over with excitement by the mere possibility. All of these dusty dreams were shelved indefinitely, another life I willingly exchanged for a 5 pound souvenir from the hospital maternity ward. You mean I get to keep this thing? And you expect me to keep it alive in a year? What! No return policy. Crap.

Thanks to last year's Marathon Moment, I now believe that with enough tenacity and determination, I could actually find it, become it, live the dreams in my head. Sounds like crazy talk, I know, as did running a marathon at a time when couldn't run more than 6 miles without passing out. But I did it, so what else is out there?

The best thing to come from my 2010 Marathon Moment, it's simple. Aside from a tighter butt and toner hamstrings—every mid-30's mother's dream--I'd say it's harnessed the power of my mind to make another dream come true.

I'm a believer. And like Motherhood and Marathons, I think God is in my corner.

Always on the grow,