Happy New Year 2004

So, the thing is… Happy New Year!

I'm making my New Year Resolutions. I know we're already three weeks into the New Year but I'm running so far behind on everything that my New Year will probably begin in February. I was telling myself that I like to EASE into the New Year. Just kind of SLIDE into it. After all, my anniversary and Valentine's Day and my birthday follow in close succession after the beginning of the year so any effort in diet or exercise or whatever is a set-up to fail, right? I said this to a friend (with a perfectly straight face) and she said, "And then there's EASTER--doesn't make sense to do much before THEN. And then there's the Fourth of July…"

Smart aleck.

She's right, though. I was just fooling myself. The truth is that I just wasn't ready for the beginning of a New Year right at the beginning of it. The holidays took so much out of me that I didn't have time to think about the coming year, much less say goodbye to the one leaving. Frankly, I am tired and feeling a little hollow right now. I got so much done in December and our holidays were very nice but I couldn't shake the feeling that I missed something.

And then I saw this really lovely moment between my older daughter and her Kindergarten teacher and I realized what was missing.

Ana had a holiday party at school and I volunteered to help. I arrived early, brought some things in from my car, set them down in her classroom and went back out to lock up my van. I heard the sound of someone running after me.

I turned around and there was Ana. She had run from the school after me, afraid that I was leaving and wouldn't be staying for the party after all. She was crying so I gathered her up and hugged her and told her that of COURSE I was staying (I was assigned to the cookie decorating table!) and that we'd have lots of fun. "But Ana, you can't just run out of school like that. What do you think your teacher will say?"

Ana's face went sheet-white --she is so afraid of getting into trouble. I held her hand and we walked back into the school and met her teacher in the hallway outside the class. Ana couldn't meet her eyes. But the teacher just smiled at her. "Ana? Ana, look at my face. I am not angry with you. You are not in trouble. But it's my job to make sure that the kids in my class are safe. Running from school isn't safe. I was worried about you. Talk to me first next time, okay?" Ana nodded tearfully. The teacher reached over and with the most natural, loving touch, wiped Ana's face and very deliberately, smiled right into her eyes. It took a minute but Ana smiled back and went back to class, reassured and happy.

I don't know. I was just so struck by the way the teacher talked to my child --with such respect and such KINDNESS. She didn't get angry or impress upon her the importance of following rules or hustle her back inside --like *I* would have. She talked to her, explained the reasoning behind the rule, and then she took an extra moment to really smile at her --to really CONNECT with her. I had tears in my eyes. It made me feel so good to know that my girl spends her day with someone who is perceptive enough to see how sensitive she is, and who took the time to make a small moment meaningful.

I started thinking about how rare a quality that is, in these super-charged, hyper-efficient times in which we live. I wondered how many opportunities I have missed to turn an ordinary moment into a special one. Particularly with my kids and my husband, but also with strangers whose lives intersect with mine for a few moments. We just went through the time of year that I love the most and in my haste to achieve and accomplish and to make it beautiful for my family on a superficial level, I forgot that it's supposed to be a time to engage meaningfully with them! The whole Christmas season became a big to-do list for me and somehow, having meaningful interactions with other humans never made the list.

I've thought for a long time that common consideration isn't nearly so common anymore but maybe it's still there and we're all just too busy to act on it. I often have thoughtful impulses and then I don't take action because it might delay me. I don't send the cards to encourage my friends who are going through hard times. I don't pick up the phone and tell my husband I love him when I think about it. I go through whole days when I don't even pet my DOG. Is THAT what I want to model for my kids? I don't want my legacy in this world to be one of super efficiency and not of loving and significant moments shared with the people around me.

Recently, Jane and I had to go get some supplies for the Teacher Appreciation Breakfast at her pre-school. We left our house late and we went to the store and while I was paying, Jane found a table for us, sat down and announced her intention to eat a breakfast taco.

I took a deep breath. I was stressed; we were supposed to deliver the food before school started and we were already late. But there it was, see, a chance to use a small moment as an opportunity to really connect with someone important to me. So I sat down and Jane ate a breakfast taco and then she told me a very long and complicated story in which we both could fly (very cool) and then we got in the car and went to her school where everyone was glad to see us and grateful for the treats. I drove home thinking that the whole event only took about ten extra minutes, but those ten minutes were priceless in terms of the quality of my life.

It seems to me that I am given a thousand chances each day to choose a more thoughtful, kinder response to the people in my life and too often, I'm in such a rush that I don't even notice. Too often I am exasperated by trying to achieve something, ANYTHING, that I miss my chance to add something positive to this pressure cooker of deadlines and expectations and hyper-everything in which we live. I am missing opportunities to add real meaning to my life. It's no wonder I feel hollow.

So, that's it. That's my New Year's resolution: to give in to my kinder impulses more often, and to slow down long enough to make my interactions with people more meaningful. To let Jane set the agenda sometimes. To take a moment to really smile at someone. To say thank you when I can and really mean it. To really notice the people around me.

To achieve a little less but have it mean a whole lot more.

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Barbara Cooper is the mother of Ana (5.75) and Hurricane Jane (3). She lives in Austin, Texas and she's learning a lot in Kindergarten.