2015. A brand new year. A blank page on a clean fresh calendar not yet crumpled from being swiped by some over enthusiastic opening of the fridge door. Empty and just waiting to be filled with excitements and adventures and the mundane and the ordinary.
Am I the only one that is always rather taken by surprise by New Years? I know it’s on the same date every year, and it really shouldn’t be a shock to the system, but somehow it just creeps up; one moment it’s nearly Christmas, there are carols and mince pies and the house is full to bursting with happy noise and baking, and if you sit still for long enough one of the girls will probably try to deck you with tinsel, fairy lights or both, and then suddenly we’re moving on into a New Year and yet again I find I’ve spent the lull in the end of the year wallowing in the loveliness of relaxing with the family. It’s just never seemed exactly the perfect moment for rigorous self examination and making detailed plans for the next 12 months when you’re sipping the last of the champagne and brushing fruit cake crumbs off your fingers.
There are things I want to do in 2015, some of them have crystallised (get a light fitted next to the front door) but most are still swirling around my mind like dust motes in a shard of sunshine. There are house thoughts and thoughts on the children, oodles of creative projects and a list as long as my arm when it comes to the blog and I just haven’t got them all caught and organised yet.
So I’ve come up with a new plan. I’m deferring my New Year’s Resolutions and giving myself January as a planning and organising my thoughts month. I’m hoping that it will make me actually take the time to work out what I want to achieve next, and I’m hoping it will reign me in. It’s so tempting with all that white space to sit yourself down and think right, this is the year that I’m going to do this, and that, and this, and this, and I’m sure I’m going to have done all of that by March so then I’ll do this and this and this, and it’s going to be amazing. But the slight hitch with that is that my calendar isn’t blank, in fact, it’s rather occupied with three small children, my lovely H and trying to keep our home in some sort of order. If you’ve followed any of my creative endeavours over the years you know I’m horribly prone to thinking I can do double the things in half the time and if there’s one thing I really don’t want to do it’s to set myself up for failure because then my little niggly subconscious would really go to town on that one.
So January will be for thinking and planning and then the rest of the year I’m going to wildly overachieve on all of my plots and plans (oh yes, definitely!).
But in thinking about the thinking I have found my word for the year.
Last year I wanted to be centred, the eye at the centre of the whirlwind of our family life. It all tied in to wanting to help our girls to thrive and to making our house a haven and a home, and to getting ready for the new arrival we weren’t quite ready to tell the world about. Everything I wrote last year remains true, mainly I suspect because they’re not really resolutions as much as general intentions for life; spending time as a family and time being creative being pretty high up our list of core values.
And for this year I want to build on that. I want to keep going with our very slow decluttering and organising, to focus on being fit and healthy, to be truly present for my little trio, and to help them grow into strong confident slightly taller people. I know how it feels when the balance is right, when we’ve had time to be together as a five, and one on one time with the children, with each other, and doing the things that make us truly content; and I want to keep that feeling front and centre as a sort of mental reference point for each of our decisions.
And it is going to be amazing, even if it doesn’t look like anything has changed, because it is a year that has H and Kitty and Elma and Pip in it, and with those four around my cup of joy runs over.