If January Were a Mom

By Guest Blogger Kelley Eanes, author of kelleyeanes.com

As if 2021 hasn’t already earned enough bragging rights on its own accord, January at our house is always a bit of a dumpster fire. Drunk on late nights and “just please one more show” binges, our kids emerge from the glory that was Christmas looking more like sewer rats than peaceful cherubs. The horror of their “it’s three sizes too small, but it’s still my favorite shirt” and five-day old legging ensembles can only be matched by the unidentifiable substances crusted to their faces. Their once-soft hair is replaced with grease and dreadlocks and I begin to wonder when the popularity of the bowl cut will reemerge. Coveted toys are now broken or lost, and new things are quickly being added to the Christmas list for next year. Oh good, I can’t wait to buy you more stuff to break and lose.

I’m so sorry Jenny got a better… well everything than you… I would love for you to add it to your Christmas list next year. How about that? Oh, no… it’s not long now… just another 341 days to go.

I know some take down all their décor on Christmas day, but we don’t fall into that camp over here. Our preference is to move said decorations from one location to another, so it can sit and wait till someone braves the long trek up the stairs to the walk-in attic. Walking really is so hard.

Precious keepsakes once placed in loving anticipation sit crumpled in corners on the floor resembling the aftermath of a Christmas massacre rather than fond memories of yesteryear. Things are twisted, stepped on, shattered; I have continual daydreams about setting fire to the growing pile.

And then, January waltzes in. New Year, New You…. Again.

According to someone smarter than me, 80% of us will make New Year’s Resolutions, and by the time you read this, the majority of us will no longer be so resolute.

If January were a mom, January 1st is the sweet new young mother, holding her brand new baby. Her world is filled with hopes and dreams and a plan with how she will get there. She has flash cards, baby signs memorized, perfectly sterilized toys and a closet full of diapers and wipes. She heads out back to her garden of home-grown organic produce where she harvests food for her dear little angel. January 10th, on the other hand, is a mom of 4 and she’s in line at Taco Bell. She just can’t anymore. There is no plan, nothing is clean, no one has done any homework, small bodies are crawling across a dirty floor licking up powdered sugar alongside the family dog. There is not a toothbrush in sight and the neighbor feels certain she saw a naked toddler wandering out back in 45-degree weather.

New Year, New You.

Let’s take a population of people hanging on by a mere thread and have them create impossible goals so we can call them failures when they don’t succeed. Perfect, love the idea. We can call it New Year, New You and when it’s over hand out mass quantities of Zoloft.

The reality is, New You would be so much more successful if she wasn’t having to deal with the poor decision-making skills of Old You. At our house New You wants to get the kids in bed by 8:30pm and wake up early and exercise and you know… be healthy or not look pregnant anymore. Unfortunately, Old You agreed to get the kids a puppy and now New You is walking around in a stupor with yet another thing to keep alive.

Is it Monday? Is it nighttime? Where are the kids? Has anyone eaten today? We do still have kids, right?

On January 11th, New You went for her daily unsweet tea at Chick-fil-A, but Old You had eaten there so much in 2020, those sticky sweet nice My Pleasure workers gave New You a free brownie. It’s JANUARY Chick-fil-A. I’m not sure what you are experiencing on the other side of that sliding window, but everyone out here is trying to get their life right. Maybe you could give away free carrot shavings? Or lettuce? Who hasn’t walked through life wondering when free lettuce will appear? Even ice would work. The whole world wants your ice, give that away. Save the brownie for May, when New You is long gone and I Don’t Give a Crap Anymore Just Make It Stop You, has shown up. That’s what I thought internally when they handed me the warm gooey brownie, but New You just took the bag and smiled and said I guess I’ll start New Year, New You tomorrow.

The reality is I’m not so sure my friends like New You anyway. She can never eat where they want to go, she has to go to bed early so she can wake up and exercise, and her commitment to good self-care means gone are the days of funny Instagram memes. New You is about as fun as a wet mop at our house, I would bet it’s shockingly similar at yours.

It’s no wonder the candy company struck it gold with Valentine’s Day in February. By the time the 14th rolls around New You is laying on the floor in the fetal position just begging someone to bring her a Venti coffee and stuff some chocolate in her face. And we, of course, are more than happy to do that because the reality is, we liked Old You just the way you were.

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