My Word

I can't help it; I've given in.

I gave up resolutions a few years ago because I'm pretty good about setting goals as needed. A new year always feel more like it starts to me when school does, not right after Christmas.

But between my Facebook status update feed and blogland, I was feeling left out of all the resolution making. And THEN when you add in choosing a word for the year? Really, how am I supposed to resist that? I've even made my word coordinate with my one resolution. How forward-thinking is THAT?

So my word for the year is: Kardashian.

And my resolution is: We will not do anything interesting enough as a family to merit our own reality show.

I feel pretty good about that. I mean, it'll be hard for sure. There's a lot of stuff you have to stay on top of to avoid your own reality show. For example, I'll have to not to become nor associate with any little people chocolatiers. And I'll have to make sure just one baby comes out in March and not six or more.

It actually gets HARDER than that, if you can believe it. I'll have to not tart either of my little boys up in hooker shellac and put them in little girl beauty pageants. Or have a meltdown in the fitting room of a bridal shop. I can't move into a houseful of strangers for any reason: no trying to chase the same self-involved bachelor or fighting with a bunch of twenty-year-olds about the house rules for nekkid hot tub hijinks. I'll have to keep the volume down in my hair so I don't accidentally get recruited to the Jersey shore.

There's more. I can't manufacture any crazy home science experiments and then hide my kid in the attic while people freak out. I definitely can't spend any time with Paris, LiLo, or Britney. (They'll be super bummed.) I'll have to avoid desert islands and resist the urge to eat bugs even if it wins me a cool immunity necklace. I'll have to remember that I'm pregnant so I don't suddenly get a day-long stomach ache and shock myself by pooping out a baby I forgot I was pregnant with. I'll have to leave my ridiculous costumes at home and not show up to screech a Lady Gaga song acapella for Simon and Randy.

I can't even attempt to become crazy good at cake decorating and if I do get really good at it, I must avoid being adopted by an Italian family OR getting any tattoos. Also, although I'm a housewife, I can't become desperate in any way, shape or form, ESPECIALLY because I live in Orange County.

I know, right? It's a much harder goal than it seemed like at first. But I'm committed. And I'm not just giving up after a week, either. I'm going to stay off of reality TV for at least a WHOLE YEAR.

But I believe in me. Wish me luck. . .