I have been tough to live with for the past few days. Ask Disgruntled Husband, who has been walking on eggshells so much, we could make a fritata with his feet, I am no fun. (Note: DH, this is not permission for you to stop...)
For the last week-and-a-half, I have been moonlighting as your friendly neighborhood call center agent at one of the greatest companies on earth. I really do love my job...about an hour after I'm done. It's not rocket surgery and it pays pretty well. But it's the actual getting-up-and-going that I have a problem with. And also the not-having-my-whole-day-to-do-what-needs-to-be-done-ness. It's like I excuse not doing laundry or showering because I have to leave for work AT 5 P.M. It's ridiculous and I'm the first one to admit it.
In an e-mail today to a virtual friend (read: a friend I have never personally met or spoken to on the phone) I admitted that I am in full Holiday Bitch mode. I'm making cookies with a grimace and hanging lights with my middle finger up. Merry F-ing Christmas.
While getting my nails done today (the one and only thing I seem to do with any sort of reliability and thought), I had a chance to listen to Christmas music and chat with the ladies at Truvy's Beauty Spot, all with Mini-Me in tow. I needed a little sit-down-ness to absorb it all. It's Christmastime. I have kids. Kids love Christmas. And...Christmas is not about me anymore.
I've been a royal Holiday B. and my kids don't deserve it. Sure, they may be subject to DH cooking dinner 6 nights in-a-row (Chili for every non-breakfast meal over the weekend? Sure, why not!)
I'm thinking back to my own childhood and how much I loved this time of year. I loved the holiday lights, the school parties, the Christmas programs, the caroles, and the cookies. I'm sure if I had interviewed my mom back then about her opinion of it all, it would be more of a pain-in-the-tush then magical to her. But she sucked it up, and so should I.
Right now, I'm watching one of my favorite Christmas movies The Family Stone. Normally, I watch it for the set decorating and costumes, but today, I'm watching it to remind me that it could all be over in an instant, and I need to savor it while my kids are young.
(Also good for this sort of feeling is the crap-tastic Lifetime Christmas movie with the chick from Charles in Charge. Don't know the name of it, but I catch it every year. Oooh..and the old 80s one with Mary Steenburgen.)
So, Larry Potter, Hoover, and MM, because I am your mom and the one that tries to make things magical for you, I will suck it up. I will put down my middle finger. I will be jolly and pleasant if it damn near kills me. And, side note, I will also fill my prescription for Lexapro. All so your memories of childhood Christmas don't include your mom barking orders at your dad while dressed in yesterdays sweats, complaining.
But come on, you know that if Santa was always so happy, it's because he had someone else making the toys and packing his sleigh. He left the house all night because Mrs. Claus was getting her Holiday B on.
|Hey Santa, I'm not waiting up. You better be home to take out the garbage. And feed your damn elves yourself.|