Other people's resolutions

Making New Year’s resolutions for myself is silly. Is there really that much that needs to be improved? (Hey. Why are you all making a mental list right now? You know it's a rhetorical question, right?).  OK, if I'm being honest, there might be a few minor tweaks that would complete me as an individual. Maybe gain a little patience and self-discipline, run faster, read more, listen to live music more, judge less, earn a badass nickname, eat more legumes, surprise my wife every day (in a good way), write a critically acclaimed song ignored by commercial radio, stop cringing at the idea of playing board games with my kids, stop drunk tweeting, find more inner peace and less Whiny Bitch™.

But enough about me.

Isn't it much more productive to make New Years’ resolutions for other people? Who knows us better than those closest to us? Doesn’t it follow that those are the people who ought to determine our resolutions? This New Year, that’s my gift to my family, the gift of identifying their flaws and helping them improve themselves in 2013.

• For my mother: this is the year to disabuse yourself of the notion that my brothers are smarter and funnier than me, or at least stop repeating this belief in my presence. Make fewer of your chocolate-dipped peanut butter balls (because that’s easier than me disciplining myself). Be nicer to your sister. Eat breakfast. Admit that you did in fact spray me down with a garden hose outside in the wintertime in my underwear after I fell off a pig and into knee-deep muck.

• For my four-year-old daughter: don’t be afraid to use a spoon to eat oatmeal. Or really, to use utensils in general. And while it’s cute how you can burp the alphabet at the dinner table now, it’s probably time to tone down that act. Stop dipping your stuffed kitty in your apple juice. 

• For my eleven-year-old daughter: Stop picking at those mosquito bites from last summer. Save the eye rolling for a few years – you don’t want to peak too soon. Maintain contempt for boys for at least another year, or better yet, until after graduate school.  

• For my beautiful and talented wife: Fewer acronyms when explaining your work to me, I don’t speak wonk. Stop setting alarm for 4:45 a.m. when you get up at 5:15 a.m. Recognize difference between not hearing and not listening (i.e., speaking louder to me doesn't address your issue). Admit your HGTV viewing is evidence of house porn addiction. Cease the gushing about stats nerd Nate Silver.

• For my brother Clay: Worry less about maintaining a neatly trimmed beard (oh, good. Already done). Take pride in the fact that your seal- and beaver-skin hat is the most money you've ever spent on an article of clothing. Shake things up and wear a plaid flannel shirt from time to time (done). Get serious about that audition for Real School Teachers of the Alaska Bush™.  

• For my brother KC: Stay calm and trust Homer Simpson. Brew more and share (with your brothers). Show remorse about that one time when you were a kid and you threw a large rock at you're big brother's head. Learn serenity to better cope with University of Washington's bowl game loss AND upcoming season opener loss to Boise State. Start a blog (it's a great way to passive-aggressively lash out at family).  

That is sufficient for now. I must confess, it feels good to give back to the people I love. This glow that warms me from the inside out is all the gratitude I require. So Happy New Year and no need to thank me.