I decided that I have a love/hate relationship with Christmas. I mean, I don’t want to sound like a Scrooge but come on. The pressure to do all the crap that needs to get done in a short period of time is friggin’ ridiculous. Unfortunately, I am not a Type A personality like my mother. She had her gifts bought and wrapped by August. I kid you not. But the thought of having my shit together so early kind of scares me. I wouldn’t even know who I was. Besides, with the condition of my memory lately, I probably would forget where I put half of it come December.
I started my day in a state of total disbelief and panic. “Holy Freaking Shit,” I said to myself. “How the hell am I going to get it all done?” Piss poor planning does not necessarily blah blah blah. I don’t want to hear it. I know most of you feel the same way. Be honest. If you don’t, then you are June Freaking Cleaver and deserve a medal.
Just so you know, I had a full-out temper tantrum this morning. That included tears, foot stomping and hair pulling (yes, I pulled my own hair. Throwing dishes would have been a good option, but I happen to like my dishes so my follicles got abused instead). It was just too much for me. I melted down. I’m not proud.
So here I am, writing this post when I should be putting stamps on my Christmas cards. Christmas cards that I don’t even like because the kid wanted a family picture this year. My neck looks like a side of beef, my boobs are a little floppy and I’m doing that stupid hand on hip pose that I hate but completely understand why it’s done because not all 46 year old women can get away with sleeveless dresses so it’s a great trick at alleviating arm fat (that thought deserved a run-on sentence…sorry grammar freaks, including me). I could have orchestrated a new photo shoot. But that requires time. And I felt like doing that like I feel like cleaning dog crap off the bottom of my shoes. So a picture that was taken in May was the winner based on the fact that we are smiling AND all eyes are open. That right there is a miracle…and a keeper.
I think I need Holiday Hell Counseling. Seriously. I don’t care what, but we need to start a chapter somewhere. But, until we can get HH Anonymous going, this is my therapy. Thanks for listening. Bah Humbug. I mean, Merry Christmas!