How are you doing, you guys? Are you hanging in there? I’m sitting in the waiting room of my daughters’ gymnastics class right now, trying to get the last words of Book #2’s first draft on paper (one week behind schedule. TURBO WRITING: ENGAGE), and my head is just a muted mess of worries and to-dos and plain ol’ tired.
I’ve one son who still doesn’t sleep, and one daughter who’s been struggling with nighttime anxiety and nightmares since September. We’ve gymnastics and basketball and Christmas children’s choir and parties I haven’t rsvp’d to because I can’t figure out how exactly I’m going to squeeze them in. The American Girl doll beds we ordered for the girls arrived smelling like mildew, and I kind of just don’t feel like going through the trouble of sending them back, so Merry Christmas, kids, we’ve skipped coal and gone straight to mold! Respiratory distress, ahoy! We threw a surprise dinner for my mom’s birthday last Saturday that went off almost perfectly. Almost. Because whenever you try to do everything right there’s always going to be that one thing that slips through the cracks and becomes the thing. But that’s the way it usually goes, so you might as well roll with it. The thing doesn’t need to be the everlasting thing. Especially when your mom just felt loved for a few hours–that’s all that really matters.
Right now my girls are smiling, as they always are at this gymnastics class. They’re so happy to have their teacher joke with them. They’re thrilled to throw their bodies through ever-progressing cartwheels and backflips and round-offs without someone telling them not to crash into the furniture. In here, they leave behind their worries about their handwriting, and that one comment their teacher made on a report card, and whether or not the Elf on the Shelf is actually real or something Mom and Dad just brought into the house so they’d stop asking them for it all the time. In here, they just fly. If I’ve learned anything so far this month (we’re only a week in, so hoo, boy), it’s this:
a) I can’t control what other people think of me, and now is the time to stop worrying about it. Also,
b) When I’m shopping for Christmas gifts, keep a list of what I want to buy, then of what I do actually get–and try to get it all out of the way this week if I can. Less medicinal booze will be ingested if I follow this process. Also,
c) It’s been de-stressing to keep an advent wreath on the table and spend some time talking about each week (Hope, Peace, Joy, Love) with my family this December. It helps to sort through the crazy. And finally,
d) when in doubt between wine and the egg nog, go with the egg nog. I’m just going to end up pouring myself some, anyway.
If you see my mom today, wish her a happy birthday. She makes 70 look pretty darned good. I’m still writing (and shopping and baking and hopefully rsvp’ing), which means that I’m pretty much just standing in the middle of this chaos in my yoga pants thinking, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year, dammit! WHERE IS MY EGG NOG?”Cheers, friends. Let’s keep turning those cartwheels.
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