LifeFiles: The Personal Improvement Plan

I'm on day four of a Personal Improvement Plan (PIP).

I feel energized. I feel optimistic about the future.

I feel like I need a new plan. Self-improvement just can't be this easy.

Maybe my expectations were too low. Maybe my ambitions were too modest. Maybe my life is perfect already?

No, that can't be it.

I thought hard about my PIP. I wrote a mission statement defined by my values, I clarified roles, I established goals, I set priorities.

I didn't want to experience the annual letdown of January 2, so my goals were less resolution than evolution.

Physical Health and Fitness Goals:

Take vitamin once a day

Exercise regularly: Yoga on Tuesdays (at work); Swim on Thursdays and Saturdays.

On the first day of my plan, I swam for 15 minutes. I did freestyle for a few minutes, breast stroke and back stroke next, then raced myself for about 10 laps.

I realized that the deeper I go, the harder it is to surface. And after a particularly long rest, I realized how beautiful the water is when it's still.

As I climbed the stairs out of the pool, I noticed a piece of confetti in the water. It was a blue baby bottle from a shower I threw a week ago. It must have been attached to my foot. There are tiny, glittery bibs, balloons, and pink pacifiers all over our house, even after three times around the place with a vacuum. Some things just stick.

But money isn't one of them.

Financial Goals:

Live within budget

Transfer money every month into savings account

On my way to work this morning, I drove through the Golden Arches and tried a McGriddle Meal for $3.16. I have exact change.

I was so thrilled by the taste of the sausage sandwiched between syrup-soaked waffles that I tried to calculate the cost of having one a day, every day. I decided that my budget can absorb it, but my heart cannot.

I don't always go to lunch, but today I decided to take a walk to a local deli. I strolled down the street and sat outside by the bay, eating a bland tuna sandwich and drinking a flat root beer. The food was incidental and not worth the $7.31, but the time away was.

I walked back to work, bought a bag of Raisinets for 35 cents out of a vending machine, and returned to my office.

I was done spending for the day. What a relief. No spontaneous Amazon.com orders; no need to run out for a new pen, or an obligatory gift for someone I don't even like.

Just before 6 p.m., I headed home.

Family Goals:

Be home by 6:30 p.m. at least three days a week

Give my husband and son each 30 minutes of my undivided attention every day

When I asked my husband what he thought of my PIP, he said I was going through a mid-life crisis (which means he expects me to live until age 76). I thought, "If this is a mid-life crisis, I want a shiny red sports car."

I told him I'd been thinking differently about my life since my father's death almost a year ago. The unhappiness of his many years and sad finality of his last days made me realize how easy it is to let the hours slip away. I've come to realize that I want to be around for awhile, and that I want to be healthy and happy while I'm here.

Being a good wife and mother makes me happy.

So, last night we all assembled a dinosaur from a kit that had been sitting around in an unopened box since Colter's 6th birthday (he's 7 now). This morning, we made paper airplanes instead of watching cartoons. Tonight, we walked to the ice cream shop for dinner and dessert.

My time is all I have to give, but I can never give enough.

The day is ending. We're all cuddled up, and I've just finished reading aloud chapter three of "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix." Colter is avoiding the trip to his room. He hates sleeping alone, even surrounded by a dozen stuffed animals, his music, and lava lamp.

As he stalls, he crosses his legs, puts his palms together, sits meditatively on our big double bed and says, "I want to be enlightened."

Maybe he's ready for a PIP of his own.

Julie Moos is a thirtysomething who lives with her husband and son. Her column appears every other Thursday.