When I was in kindergarten, I was going to be a prima
ballerina. Yes, I was going to make my living wearing a sparkly pink tutu and
spinning around a lot.
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| That's me applying blush to my colleague's face. It's hard wearing tutus and putting on makeup. Okay, well that could've been me... |
By the time I was in 4th grade, I was going to be
the first female President of the United States. I was thinking big. I was
young, and I was going to conquer the world.
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| Somebody was going to have to go if my face was fitting up there. |
And that’s why I am at a big 100% on my New Year’s
resolution this year. That’s right. 142 days, and counting. I have managed to
do what I set out to do, while everybody else is still paying their health club
memberships online using WiFi at McDonald’s, eating M&M’s and sitting on
their couches looking up Weight Watchers recipes, or binge drinking out of
depression because their resolution to give up alcohol didn’t go so well. In a
world where loads of people aren’t accomplishing their New Year’s resolutions,
I have been mad-crazy-successful.
For 142 days, I have managed to fold my socks together
immediately after taking them off.
This may seem like a trivial goal to you. You may be thinking,
“Seriously? I already do that. Why was that her goal?”
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| There is hope. A match. |
Well, I didn't. Okay? I admit it. And guess what. At my house, you get visits from someone
called The Sock Fairy. She’s an important person around here. She’s the one who
pairs up all the socks that don’t have matches, and she only comes every so
often (“every so often”=“barely ever”). When there’s laundry, She Who Folds The Socks
(me) puts together whatever matches she can easily make. If there’s a random
kid available, I might try to trick whoever's there into matching up some socks, too.
Sometimes this works, and sometimes it doesn’t. Anyway, the rest of the
unmatched socks go immediately into the ottoman that is stored in Rosemary’s
room. And these socks do not make another appearance until The Sock Fairy shows
up magically while children are at school or some activity with their Daddy—generally
after a stressful bout of searching for a pair of socks for someone. Ironically, She Who Folds The Socks is always
home when The Sock Fairy comes. Anyway—POOF!—matched socks appear in people’s
drawers.
My kids LOVE The Sock Fairy. She brings with her the peace
that comes from having an abundance of matched socks, which is better than anything
the Tooth Fairy ever thought about leaving.
And let me just tell you—last year (BEFORE my New Year’s
resolution came to fruition), The Sock Fairy rarely came to visit me. That
stupid lady always, always came to
visit my girls and my husband first. The consequences of our slacker Sock Fairy
all fell on me, and I was scrambling every single morning looking for socks
that might possibly pass as matches for each other. Half the time I tried to
get away with wearing sandals, and then stupid winter set in. Sigh. I wanted to
fire The Sock Fairy. I wanted to rip off her sparkly wings and take off just
one of her socks and hide it in the lint filter of my dryer. (This way, she had
to walk around—not fly—for eternity wearing just one smelly sock. Reminds me of
Dante’s Purgatorio...The punishment
should fit the crime.) I considered just
buying lots of pairs of disposable socks…
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| I'd just love to match up socks for those adorable girls and that funny, funny man. That tired-looking woman can fend for herself. |
Finally, one day when I was complaining to my mom on the phone about my sock issue, she told me to just fold my socks together when
I take them off. I am pretty sure she’s told me this a time or two before in my
life, but this time—finally—I listened to her.
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| Child, why don't you just fold your socks together? Why?? |
This year, everything has changed. Me actually managing to
fold my own socks when I take them off has made infinitely less work for The Sock
Fairy, so now she only has to worry about the ones around here who leave little
sock droppings wherever they happen to be.
And I think The Sock Fairy should leave everyone else in my house a note and tell them to start folding their socks together, too, but I am thinking my girls might not heed the advice until they turn 34 years old, like me. Small steps, right?
And I think The Sock Fairy should leave everyone else in my house a note and tell them to start folding their socks together, too, but I am thinking my girls might not heed the advice until they turn 34 years old, like me. Small steps, right?
It’s amazing how my goals have changed over time. Oh well.
I am freakin’ awesome at folding my socks and not losing them.
Has your New Year’s resolution been as successful as mine?
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photo credit: ChrisHaysPhotography via photopin cc
photo credit: AlicePopkorn via photopin cc
photo credit: Stuck in Customs via photopin cc
