This column lets me to tap into some of my concealed (i.e. obsessive, anal, maternal, guilty, hopeful) feelings and coax them to the surface. The parts I don't pass on for publication are probably the most enlightening, but it's in the process, not the result, that the real therapy lays anyway.

Last winter, I wrote that New Year's resolutions are pointless. But now, through this self-imposed (and self-monitored and self-analyzed) psychoanalysis, I realize I don't completely write off resolutions. I just push them back a couple of months.

It makes more sense, really, to get through the first quarter of the year, feel the New Year out and save the promises for springtime.

Spring is a catch-all season for me and it doesn't enter without its share of baggage. I associate a few key and unrelated things with this time of year: deep cleaning, spiders, and an anniversary.

Spring resolution No. 1: Clean the high spots.

I take spring cleaning seriously because this is the only time of year I feel an internal desire, or at the very least, a heartfelt willingness, to scour.

My loose goal for our home during the rest of the year (since we house two kids, a big dog, two incompatible cats and a turtle) is to achieve surface clean. If the rooms carry a cleanliness ratio of at least 5/11 during any other season, I am happy.

Genuine cleaning can be a treasure hunt and an opportunity to find things that have remained unseen for months. Namely, books and small plastic toys. Books I started to read. Books I forgot I had. Partial lists of books I want to read. Half-chewed toys the dog hoarded. Too many toys that could easily be rewrapped and given as new to my kids who by this time, have forgotten they ever received them. Little plastic sheep and tiny Polly Pocket shoes we tried to hide from the baby.

I'm always glad to come across these microscopic ones, because it means I was quicker than Libby and Tanner, ages 5 and 1, respectively. These two (the dog and the baby) tend to suck things up faster than me and my vacuum cleaner.

Deep-cleaning target No. 2 is my closet. I tackled this one about a week ago. This project may have stemmed from an upcoming girls' weekend out. (I anticipated the need for some empty hangers and shoe tree slots upon my return.) But to focus on the positive, I cleaned out my closet.

Spring resolution No. 2: Eliminate the enemy.

We've had a real problem with sadistic terrorists called spiders. My husband can attest that I have jumped up in the middle of the night more than once, scattering blankets and swearing that something was crawling on me. We suspect I may have a bit of a phobia.

Last spring, for some unknown reason, the creatures decided to hold their horror conventions in my oldest daughter's room. While cleaning out her closet I survived the traumatic experience of finding myself face to face with six of them, one after the other. Six!

As hard as it is to see them loitering around the baseboards, congregating in their little fang-gangs, it takes a lot of self-motivation to psych myself up and muster the courage to go in for the kill. By the time I walked out of her room, I was sweating and shaking, vowing to fumigate the entire city limits.

This year, the exterminator sprayed our house in February.

Spring Resolution No. 3: Observe April 3.

This is the anniversary of my Dad's passing. During the first couple of years after his death, April 3 was spent reliving that single day. Now, a few years later, it's become easier to pass over the worse memory and focus on something other than that single day.

Twenty-eight years with someone lend a lot to the memory. I hope to write more about him, but haven't come across the words yet. In the meantime, I'll try to make April 3 a day of remembrance for my daughters, one who was too young to remember him and the other who came too late to meet him.

Spring is open-window season. It's bug season. It's a fresh start. All good reasons to scrub, smash, sort and, for the most important things, fold up and put away until they are needed again.