2016: The Year of No f**ks

Love this cross stitch from the incredible Cotton Floozy

2015 was an incredible year. We welcomed Buttercup into our family and it has been nothing but a pleasure to see her capture the hearts of her big brothers. This morning she was fussy on our journey to school and her brothers sang to her and played peek-a-boo with her and it filled my heart with joy. 

However, 2015 was not ALL rainbows and sunshine. There were quite a few times when I thought I might lock myself in my room or crack a beer before noon. Honestly, it might have been better if I had done those things as opposed to becoming a raging lunatic screaming "WHY IS IT SO HARD TO PUT PANTS ON? DO YOU WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL NAKED?" It is moments like these that inspired me to make a resolution for 2016 that I might actually keep: Give fewer f**ks. 

Frankly, with three kids 5 and under, I have better things to worry about than whether or not my three year old's shirt was backwards when he went to school. 

Was he dressed appropriately for the weather? Yes. 

Were his clothes clean? Yup.

Did he dress himself from head to toe while I was free to pack lunches and feed the baby? Yes. 

Did I inform him that it was backwards and give him an opportunity to turn it around? Yep. He declined.

Now there was a time in which I would have insisted that he turn it around the proper way, even if it meant a battle. It's my job as a parent to ensure my kids go out into the world prepared for what life may bring them. I never wanted to send my kids to school with a dirty face or a backward shirt because the world is tough enough for a three year old; let's not give anyone a reason to give them a harder time.

But if I'm really honest with myself, I think the thing that bothered me most is how the backward shirt reflected on me, as a mother. What kind of mother sends their kid to school with their shirt on backwards? It's so simple. It takes one extra minute to turn that shirt around. Why doesn't that mother care? I do care. But the bottom line is, he doesn't. And taking into consideration all the other successes of the morning, I don't give a damn. 

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It's time I stopped giving f**ks about a backwards shirt on a happy, warm, clean, well-fed, on-time-for-school little boy. 

It's time I stopped laying awake at night replaying the failures of the day instead of the successes.

This year, I won't have time for news about your neighbors deteriorating marriage or the kid who can't behave himself in class because of his parent's divorce. Can't we talk about how we are going to help? And if we can't help, lets move on.

I will change pharmacies or stop giving f**ks that the Walgreens walking distance from my house has the worst customer service on the planet. Instead, I will use my f**ks to write a thank you card to the amazing people at my pediatrician's office who have taken such good care of us this winter. 

This year I will be a great mom and I will not give any f**cks if that's not any better than last year. 

Cheers to fewer f**ks in 2016!