By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and mama of 3

One of the reasons so many New Year’s resolutions fail has a lot to do with the word itself. Trust me, we writer-types know how much words matter. The right one can make all the difference. The wrong one can kill the whole line. The word “resolutions”? Nope. It’s all wrong.

“Resolute” means steadfast, fixed. It means “firmness of purpose,” unwavering and undaunted. When you’re trying to change something about yourself – particularly something big – most days you’ll feel everything except “resolute.” Most days you’ll hate the whole idea. You’ll want to jump off the wagon, embrace your vice and wallow in the muck of February failures. Resistant? Yes. Resentful? Probably. Resolute? No way.

I think we’re better off with something more practical like a 2009 To-Do List. (Notice the name has the word “do” in it, indicating it’s designed for action.) Nobody wakes up in the morning and scribbles down resolutions for the day. They write a to-do list because it means business. It’s not about ideals or goals or concepts. It’s about getting things done. Getting results. Plus, a forceful to-do list kept in a high visibility spot will absolutely haunt you. It begs to be checked or crossed off with one of those fat Sharpie pens.

I’m not at all resolute about my New Year’s To-Do List. Right now I loathe the list because it’s hard. It’s cliché, I know, but I really do want to lose at least 10 pounds by summer. But you would never have guessed that was what I wanted a couple of weeks ago when I was enjoying Christmas at my mom and dad’s house. I inhaled every piece of ham on my plate, polished off my mother’s famous desserts, sucked down as many Dr. Peppers and holiday punch as I could hold and was absolutely shameless about it for five consecutive days. It was as if I knew the cold reality of January was coming and I was walking some sort of dietary plank. And, by golly, I was going to make sure I was as guilty as possible by the time I reached the end of the line. I kept telling myself that in January I’d do better.

So here we are – in January. And the inertia of last year’s bad habits is hard to shake. I don’t feel super-motivated by the ball dropping on Times Square. I don’t feel like going to a spinning class. I don’t feel like drinking more water. I just want what I want without having to pay any consequence. I want the good results without the work. It’s silly and childish but oh-so-true for so many of us.

The truth is we are our habits. They are the actions that help define us. Smokers smoke. Drinkers drink. Yellers yell. And people who need to lose 10 or more pounds eat things they know they shouldn’t in quantities they know they shouldn’t. Simple as that.

What’s not so simple is how to change habits in a way that will really stick for the long haul. If I ever figure that one out, I’ll write a column about it from some far-away beach where I’ll be looking incredible in a bikini thanks to my newfound healthy habits. In the meantime, I can only hope human desire is stronger than bad habits. I believe we all have a vision of the kind of person we’d really like to be. Often it’s really tough to get there, but the people who want it bad enough tend to find their way. And their paths are probably as different and individual as the people on them.

What I do know is that nothing changes if we don’t start doing at least one thing differently than we did before. In the last six months of last year, I ate Fritos too frequently, drank too much Dr. Pepper, stayed up to do my work until nearly 1 a.m. and cut my hair too short in order to save time in the mornings. Then I told myself the ultimate lie – that I’d start working out when my schedule slowed down a little. (Yeah, right.)

That was me. Whether or not that continues to be me in 2009 will depend on how I manage day-to-day stress and how badly I want things to be different. Here’s my 2009 To-Do List:

1. Eat better food and smaller portions to lose 10 pounds by summer

2. Work out at least three times a week.

3. Let my hair grow longer

4. Ration Dr. Peppers to one a day

5. Get at least 7 hours of sleep a night

When I was writing my list, I included at least two things small enough to be checked off by March or April because those early successes will help fuel the rest of the journey. (I’ve already begun rationing my beloved Dr. Peppers and my hair is growing even as I type!)

Forget about being “resolved” to do anything this year. The bigger question is “What’s on your to-do list”? And when are you getting started? Good luck and Godspeed.

Hey mamas. This is where it all started for me. Twelve years ago I managed to talk my editor into letting me write my own newspaper column. I was only 23 years old. Boy, what was he thinking? But I sure am glad he gave me the chance because the column has become a big part of my life. It has given me the opportunity to connect with readers in my own community and beyond, thanks to the magic of e-mail. The column runs in a few newspapers in Arkansas and Missouri and a few of the pieces have appeared in the Chicken Soup for the Soul book series.

I’ve compiled a few of my favorite columns on this page. Some are recent and some are oldies but goodies. If you’re in the mood for a love story, check out the Valentine’s column. If you’re a dog lover, click on “Good Dogs.” If you’re having one of “those days,” you’ll want to read “Isolation Booth.” If you’re potty-training a kid, then you can commiserate with me by reading “Naked Nuggets.” And if you’re feeling embarrassed about something stupid you did recently, then you must read “Laid an Egg” because you will feel infinitely better about yourself after you read it. I promise that whatever you might have done is not even a half as humiliating as what I did. Guaranteed.

If you like what you see, drop me a note. It’s always a pleasure to hear from fellow mamas.

Current Rockwood Files

My funny valentine

Second time around

When good dogs get old

The sound of silence

Today I laid an egg

By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and mama of 3

With less than 30 days before the year ends, I took a look back at the 11 months we’ve left behind and rounded up a few pieces of “columns past” that give a snapshot of how the year has gone. It’s been a fast, funny year and I appreciate the opportunity I had to share it with you in this chunk of newspaper space.

On a few extra pounds after last Christmas…

As much as I’d like to blame pregnancy, gravity and age for this predicament, I know I had a lot to do with it. I’m pretty sure all those trips to Chuck E. Cheese and McDonalds were a factor. The kids are so excited when we get there that they end up taking three or four bites of their food and then race off to play, leaving me at the table to stare at leftovers and tell myself it would be wrong to let perfectly good pepperoni or French fries go to waste. But ultimately, that’s exactly where they go – to waist. My waist. Meanwhile my kids are burning tons of carbs crawling through those kid-size tunnels. No wonder they’re so skinny.

I wish I liked working out as much as they love those tunnels.

On love and laughter…

Sure, love and passion are great, especially for Valentine’s Day. Everybody wants love and passion. But so much of day-to-day life is like a steep, rain-slick hill – hard to navigate, scary, sometimes treacherous. And if you don’t walk it with somebody who can help you laugh, even through your missteps, you’re toast. You’ll never make it.

Over two years of dating and almost 10 years of marriage, Tom and I have been through job changes, house moves, miscarriages, the death of my only brother, and three new babies who have taught us what life is all about. On Valentine’s Day, I’ll certainly be grateful for the love and passion, the commitment, the loyalty and friendship. But more than anything, I’m thankful for the laughter – the every day, get-ya-through-anything laughter.

On the Easter Bunny vs. Santa…

If I had to choose between being the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus, I’d be the bunny. Hands down. When it comes to holiday icons, the Easter Bunny has negotiated a pretty sweet deal. Pun intended.

Sure, Santa gets more hype than his furry counterpart. But along with the hype comes the headache of super stardom. Every year, Santa’s very existence is called into question, and a dubious gang of underage paparazzi stay up all night just to catch a glimpse of him. Santa also has a ton of bookkeeping work. Just imagine how long it takes to compile the infamous Naughty and Nice list. My three kids alone switch back and forth between the lists at least a couple times a day.

On starting a business…

If you want to start your own business, there’s one essential ingredient you’ve got to have. It’s not hard work or a great location or a solid business plan – although all those things are important. The one thing you really need is this: a dash of crazy.

Starting your own business is one of those ideas that looks great on paper and seems nearly impossible in real life. I know because I’m doing it. I can’t even believe I’m doing it. Like most moms, I already had a full plate with the kids, the dogs, the house, the baseball and soccer games, the column deadlines. What am I, nuts? The answer is yes – a little. Otherwise I’d be doing something entirely more sane, like trying to spin 18 plates in the air while hopping on a pogo stick.

On parenting a picky eater…

I have this vision of my son as a twenty-something wearing a tuxedo and looking dashing at his wedding reception. In this vision, he is seated beside a banquet table full of chicken nuggets, bologna and cheese sandwiches, pepperoni pizza and yogurt cups, and all the wedding guests are staring at me in silent judgment wondering “Where did his mother go wrong?”

On flying alone with 3 kids…

Then I had to quietly explain to Jack that, although he had the toy first and it was technically his turn, the world is basically an unfair place, particularly when you’re on a plane with a toddler. While Jack was shocked at my hasty move, his sister was intrigued. When she shrieked and got what she wanted, I could see the realization in her baby blue eyes – a true, “ah-ha” moment. In an instant, she knew she owned me for the duration of the flight.

When her ears starting hurting during the flight, the only thing that kept Kate entertained was to let her put goldfish crackers into my mouth. If I liked the little orange, fish-shaped crackers, it would have been a lovely way to end the flight. But I do not like goldfish crackers. I do not like them in the rain. I do not like them on a plane. But I will eat them all the same when I am forced to on a plane.

On shopping for a recliner with my husband…

The male salesperson pointed out that this particular recliner comes with an attached remote control massager. The thing reminded me of the Michelin Man character, with rolls upon rolls of bloated foam padding covered with wrinkly leather. But I didn’t say anything because I’d promised to be open-minded. Tom said, “Sit down and try it out, honey.” So I did, and I’ll admit the chair feels fabulous – like a vibrating bed of Twinkies. It’d be great if I could just wear a blindfold every time I walked into the room.

Thanks for reading The Rockwood Files in 2008. Stick around for more in the New Year!

By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and mama of 3

I remember being a kid and wondering why my mother was never as giddy about the approach of Christmas as my brother and I were. During the weeks leading up to the holiday, she was just a blur of wrapping paper and Scotch tape, rushing here and there doing – well, I don’t know – Mom stuff. She definitely wasn’t a grinch, but her mood was not a lot of “fa, la, la, la, la” either. Didn’t she realize it was Christmas – the “most wonderful time of the year”?

It’s been a couple of decades since then, and now I – mother of three kids under the age of 8 – can say without hesitation that I just didn’t get it back then. My mother was keenly aware it was nearly time for Christmas. In fact, we moms can always hear the deafening “tick, tick, tick” of the clock, counting down to December 25th. And there’s just so much to do.

What a few years and a few kids have taught me is that Christmas can become a pretty big production. Every big production needs a director, and moms usually end up in that chair. But there’s no time to sit down because there’s shopping to do, gifts to wrap, family photos to shoot, lights to string, holiday cards to send, parties to attend, school plays to watch, church concerts to hear, meals to make, laundry to fold, carpool to drive, and on and on. December can be downright exhausting.

I was having lunch with a fellow mom today who said she’s a little sad because the holidays are about to be over. I’m a little sad about it, too, and I think it’s because there’s not enough time to enjoy it. I’ve been so busy sprinting up to the finish line that I forgot to enjoy the run. It’s a shame, really, because Christmas is supposed to be about more than the myriad of details that go into it.

We mothers (and dads, too) are so good at cueing the traditions and orchestrating the pageantry of Christmas that we really run the risk of missing out on it altogether. Sometimes multi-tasking can be a curse because what we need most this time of year is to be in the moment. We’re so used to looking ahead and getting on to the next thing on our list that it’s hard to just “be” – to look around and say “Yep, this is good.”

The other day I had one of those moments, and it helped me get out of my rush-rush holiday funk. I’d just picked up 2-year-old Kate from a play date and we were walking out to our van to go home. It was a sunny but cold December day, and I had a million things waiting to be done at home. I looked over at my little girl, who was all zipped up in her puffy, powder pink coat with a fur-trimmed hood that frames her face. She smiled the sweetest, simplest smile and looked up at the sky. I looked up at it, too, and closed my eyes so I could try to memorize her face in that moment and how wonderful it feels to have her warm little hand in mine when we’re walking together. That moment – that’s what Christmas should always feel like: love, peace, blessing, wonder, gratitude and hope.

If you, like me, find yourself working furiously behind the scenes to pull off a big holiday production, be sure you stop long enough to appreciate it, to honor the meaning of the holiday. Because the truth is that, in a few days, the wrapping paper will be crumpled at the bottom of a Hefty bag. The Christmas cookies will be morphing into fat cells. The new will wear off the toys, and January will get here before we’re ready. But before that happens, we have this day, this moment. We have the chance to slow down and just “be”. We have the opportunity to cherish the people we love, to memorize their smiles, to hold somebody’s hand, and to thank God for the chance to do it.

From my family to yours, have a very blessed Christmas.