Owning your reality. Losing the swim diaper.

We keep a basket of diapers in our dining room because it’s convenient, and because we’ve reached the point where we’re done pretending like we change the baby on a changing table. We’re not that fancy. We’ll change her on your plate of half-eaten pasta if you close your eyes to sneeze.

In that basket are a bunch of size 3 Huggies and one rogue swim diaper. It just worked its way in there, all tiny and useless. A remnant of a summer peppered with good intentions but not one trip to the pool. And at least twice a week, I will rush over to the basket as Grace squirms bare-bottomed on the rug and blindly grab a diaper. I’ll run back over to my spot just in time to… no. No. Not the swim diaper again. I’ll sigh loudly and exasperatedly, wave it in the air like a little waterproof surrender flag and vow that this time, the swim diaper is going in the trash. Because I’m so tired of accidentally grabbing it. Because it’s ruining my life.

And then I’ll put it back in the basket.

And the whole thing will happen again next Tuesday.

If we’re on the same wavelength, by now you understand that the basket symbolizes a brand new year. A vessel for unsoiled opportunity. And that nefarious swim diaper is a figurative representation of the bad habits, self-doubt and unnecessary obstacles keeping me from accomplishing my goals. The trash in my path I trip over every day.

I don’t usually make resolutions beyond a quiet promise to eat less sugar, a declaration weakened by peanut butter and negated by late nights spent alone in the kitchen, washing pump parts and romancing a giant of bag of potty training M&Ms.

But maybe. Hopefully. This year will be the year I stop getting bogged down by imaginary hurdles and start doing what I say I’m going to do. All of the things I know I’ll be glad I did, but I just can’t get the courage or the motivation or the presence of mind to get the ball rolling. I need to blog. I want to write something more substantial. I should be more present for my children. I must start living healthfully, like my body is a temple and not some abandoned porta potty full of raccoons. I want… a lot of things that are important to me but boring to you, so enough of that.

While possibility is comforting, reality – a reality that you actively mold and shape and own – is empowering. It’s thrilling. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that, and I miss it. So, tomorrow, the blog. Or my health. But today, the swim diaper. For real this time.