If you open my nightstand drawer and dig under the few random souvenirs I have saved (such as the receipt from dinner the night Really Big Guy proposed and the boy’s hospital bracelets from their births), you will find sheets of paper neatly stacked.  Dated by the year.  Scribbled with New Year’s Resolutions.

This tradition of collecting resolutions started years ago when it was just Really Big Guy and me.  We would sit down, each with our own piece of paper, write our declarations and share them with each other. Then, we’d put them in a safe place.  A place we could easily find, just in case we wanted to pull them out from time to time to see how we were doing.

Well, I never did check back on those sheets of paper to note my progress.  To be honest, I knew I wouldn’t.  For me, New Year’s Resolutions are highly overrated.  Sort of like getting roses on Valentine’s Day.

I feel that at any time, I can make a decision to try and do better.  And this decision shouldn’t be tied to one specific day.  In my opinion, making these pledges simply because it’s a new year takes the genuineness out of it.  It’s an act destined to fail.  

Then why the stash in the nightstand drawer?  Why, year after year, do I continue to write down and save these well thought out lists, knowing they will not amount to much? Isn’t that a complete contradiction?  A waste of time?

These old resolutions serve as the snapshots of my past. They mark life transitions and represent best intentions and, perhaps, some broken promises. They symbolize what was important.  And certain things I had to try and do.  Each New Year’s Eve, as I reread these old resolutions, images of how life was and how it has changed come racing back.  

The early years were filled with typical, late 20-something priorities.  They were clear and concise.  Completely my own agenda.  Resolutions such as getting a promotion.  Making more money.  Working out more.  Organizing our new home.  

As our family grew, my resolutions shifted from the selfish to the practical.  From the "nice to have" to the "have to do."   Anticipating Big Guy’s arrival, my work resolution switched from getting up the corporate ladder to figuring out how and if to work with a baby.  Making more turned into saving more.  Getting to the gym turned into getting my body back.  And getting organized took on a whole new meaning as my clean, knickknack-less home was transformed into baby and toddler central.  

As time passed, I traded in letting the boys cry it out for following through with time outs.  Searching for a preschool became choosing an elementary school which turned into hunting for part-time work.  I even needed a resolution to remind me to be a good wife when by no fault of his own, Really Big Guy would often fall to the bottom of my to-do list.

More so than a photograph, the words on the page paint a vivid picture of who and where I was at that moment in time. Whether or not the resolutions were kept becomes insignificant.

So here I sit on New Year’s Eve.  Ready with a pen and paper to challenge myself once again.  Excited that Big Guy and Little Guy want to take a shot at their own lists.  Perhaps they’ll be more diligent than I was in trying to keep to them.

If they are not, I won’t be disappointed.  How can I be when I know full well that most of mine will fall by the wayside as the New Year gives way to ordinary days and I return to my reliable routine?  

Instead, I’ll look forward to the New Year’s that are to come.  Although these resolutions may be not mean much today, they’ll mean everything when I reread them later on.

Illyse appears Thursdays on TriangleMom2Mom.