Day 2 - Me becoming a person with goals

Goals. Bleh. Pressure. That's all I think of when I think of the word goals. Pressure and wine. Or if the pressure gets too intense... Jack Daniels. But yesterday I made a new commitment to myself. I said that I was going to write every day. I already went to bed once. I watched American Idol, got a fabulous "massage" from my husband, rolled over to go to sleep and realized that not only had I made a commitment to myself but I had (fingers trembling and heart in my hand) published that commitment to a blog that I then sent to people who care about me and a few hundred who don't via Facebook. Ten years ago you wouldn't have gotten me to commit to brushing my hair in the morning. Needless to say, relationships, jobs, housing situations, friends, etc. came and went at short intervals. The relationship thing sorted itself out 8 years ago when I met my husband. I'll rephrase. When I interviewed for my husband. He wanted nothing to do with me which made him the most irresistible guy I had ever met. It took me 2 years to win him over and when we finally started dating, working for him, became politically incorrect. I held that job longer than any job I've ever had. And for those of you who would say that being a Mom IS a full-time job, I concur. However, no one can fire me, and maybe the lack of pressure makes me better suited for this position. So. Long story short, the relationship thing sorted itself out and in turn the housing situation worked itself out because my "boss-slash-boyfriend-slash-future husband" let me bully him into moving in with him and let's be honest, who needs friends when you've got a hot, english, well-to-do "bsbsf". But the job thing... that's the one that never sorted itself out and I think I know why now. I'm afraid to set goals. Usually I set a goal, I do great for a day, I drink way too much one night, feel way too hungover to do anything productive the next day, feel guilty and then let the thing drop altogether. Examples... The $200 worth of scrapbooking crap filling up a box in my garage, the dead dead lawn and garden surrounding my really nice house, and the 20 pounds of "baby fat" that I still haven't lost even though baby number 2 turned 1 in December. A month ago, I couldn't have admitted that I'd dropped the ball on those things and a hundred others. But tonight, I went to bed once already... and then got back up to write.