Heavens to Betsy.
Y’all. Sometimes I am just no good whatsoever at planning ahead. (Go ahead and laugh, those of you who know that this is the case all of the time.)
I try not to get overwhelmed at Christmas, but this year, I am failing. Miserably. And yes, I’ve read all those cute little things folks have posted on Pinterest and Facebook about how I should just let go of everything and focus on the meaning of the season and not worry about making cookies and let the girls wear non-matching clothes and not try to do crafts and not worry about whether or not they’ve ever had a single picture taken with Santa* and probably I’m not even supposed to care about whether or not they eat at all during the month of December.
I think I’m supposed to just let my naked starving children watch a lot of TV and eat Christmas candy and maybe listen to the Christmas story during the Charlie Brown special and call it good.
In which case, CHECK PLEASE. We’re all set.
My biggest problem is that I like the non-essentials way too much. I love Christmas cards, so I send them. I love baking, so we make cookies. I love, love, love to decorate the house for Christmas, so we do that, but I will admit this year we are embracing some simplicity. Two year olds and vintage ornaments don’t mix, so things are tamer than they’ve ever been before.
Advent is my favorite liturgical season (yes, I know I’m a geek, you don’t have to tell me), so I love having the candles lit on the dining room table, even if we’re eating take-out again because I couldn’t bring myself to think about dinner before 5:00.
Christmas children’s books make me insanely happy, so we read those, even if it means we don’t get to spend as much time outside as we probably should, and it means that I’m sitting on the couch instead of exercising off all those cookies.
This is all well and good, but now the laundry baskets are exploding, and the dishes need to go into the dishwasher that needs to be emptied, and the kitchen is a wreck, and the girls’ birthday thank you notes STILL aren’t done.
Where’s the middle ground? I know I’m not supposed to be SuperMom – the blogs tell me so! – but I do think that maybe we’re just a titch out of control here. Or are we? I don’t know any more.
Now I’m venting on the Internet, which you are not supposed to do, because Someday You Might Regret This Decision, and it probably is going on my permanent record and also my 91-year-old grandmother is going to find out about this somehow and then I’ll really get it.
So in the meantime, I will remind myself that none of this counts as a real problem whatsoever, and that I should just go do the stupid dishes and be grateful.
Or maybe I’ll read a book.
*For those of you keeping score at home, Bethany has had her picture taken once with Santa. Clara is still batting .000 in the Santa department.