I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve had seven pounds on me that I’m going to lose “as soon as things calm down” for three years now. This is called acceptance. I’ve done Crossfit in fits, F45 for a minute, 9Round for a few rounds – and guess who still doesn’t look like a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model?

This girl.

Well… this 43-year-old mom of two. {Exhale.}

Look, I want to be in shape.

I want to eat more veggies and lean meat. I want to give up garlic bread and mac and cheese (except on Sundays and the third Friday of every month). But at some point, it’s also time to recognize that I’m simply not going to look like Giselle Bundchen in that latest perfume commercial. And I’m probably not going to win Pinterest for momming. And also, my kids’ teacher is probably not going to recognize me for PTA mom of the year, mainly because I have made one meeting out of the last seven.

My body hurts a lot after some of the more intense workouts and as much as it hurts my pride, I probably need to dial it back a bit if I want to walk past 60.

I’m not the mom who has a perfect gingerbread house. In fact, we screwed up our store-bought Polar Express kit by placing one piece sideways and I just let it fly. I love our lopsided train.

There is most certainly one string of lights, out of the seven outside, that I have not yet got to fixing. I am not going to have a Sunset Magazine home. Not now. Probably not ever.

I am going to resolve to accept all of that.

Why? Because it seems reasonable. And also – more – because – Oh My God, Am I Tired ­ of the unrealistic expectations. Let’s be honest. It’s a give and take. And no judgment, ladies, of what you give or take – but it’s probably one thing or the other: Have twins, or have a perfect body… Be the PTA mom of the year, or have a really big career… Win Pinterest, or keep up some semblance of a social life.

And the thing is – all of those choices are valuable. And Yours. But it’s time to stop expecting to make BOTH choices successfully. That, ladies, is the recipe for insanity. Or at least a short breakdown.

So what if we just embraced acceptance of the choices we DID make. Not as failures of the “both” resolutions (“I’m going to be a size four AND get the promotion to Senior VP by February!”), but rather as acceptance of the successes we do enjoy – and the blessed release of their competing companions.

Accept your successes and give up the “have it all” lie, ladies. I hereby make a resolution to accept mine.

acceptance

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