I've done nothing but sleep and read since the day after Christmas. That's not the whole truth, but it's 95% of it. December was a blur, and not in the cliche way, like it was so magical and jammed packed with fun it just flew by. No, it was a blur because it was jam packed with obligation and work and school and homework and unnecessary class party bullshit.
Oh. Wow, that took a turn. Sorry. Rant over.
Seriously, though. Can I be honest for a minute here? December was kind of a shit show. Between dance and Girl Scouts and dance recitals and school and homework and oh yeah, actual work, we were scheduled to the very minute. Every single minute of every single day contained a task, a plan, a to do list, some kind of obligation. I know what you're thinking. You do this to yourself, Meg. You say yes, you want to be the room mom and the scout leader and the mom who does all the fun holidays stuff like make sugar cookies and gingerbread from scratch. Yes. You're right. I'm guilty of wanting and not wanting to be that kind of mom, simultaneously. But if over scheduling a life was an Olympic event, I'd be a gold medalist to a Michael Phelps degree.
I didn't plan for an over scheduled holiday season. You would think since I'm a retail warrior I'd plan better since Christmas ornaments hit the sales floor on October (not even kidding). You would think that since I spent the week before Thanksgiving in Disneyland that was decorated within an inch of its life for Christmas I would have been better prepared.
I wasn't.
Fully aware of the calendar I still didn't even have a chance to make cookies with the girls until the week of the 17th. The 17th I made the dough, the 18th we cut them out and baked them, and on the 19th after school and before dance we decorated them. I'm not even joking a little that these were 110% scheduled. Within an inch of our lives.
Christmas shopping was done via Amazon and my weekly day off. It's almost impossible to shop on the weekend with kids who are old enough to know what kind of Santa shit you are trying to pull. I took an extra day off to wrap gifts. And then actually followed through and wrapped gifts because if not nine days before Christmas then when? Never, it would have never happened.
One afternoon during a Target run, in between dance (Mackenzie) and dance (Caitlin), I actually told Mackenzie, "We don't have time to pee". Bathroom breaks had not been scheduled for this Target run, and if we stopped we would be late to the next pressing appointment (dance). Don't worry, I'm not a monster, I took her to the restroom. Still I said the words, because I felt them with my entire body and soul. They were cold hard facts, I had not scheduled time to pee.
We made some good memories. I promise we did. The kind of memories that come with having a harried over scheduled slash over achieving mother. My daughters will always remember the "great boot hunt of 2016" the night before the Christmas program, staying out at the mall until 9 at night when we should have all been in bed, or at least homework for that matter. They will always remember the winter dance recital where their mom didn't realize how long it would take to do hair and make up on her two daughters plus herself. Which meant a breakfast of French fries and Dr Pepper courtesy of Jack in the Box, which they bragged about all day. My girls will never forget the last minute dash to do all the things: ugly sweater selfies, teacher gifts and making reindeer food in the 11th hour on Christmas Eve. Not even kidding when I say that we made reindeer food, put that shit out and went to bed.
These are the moments that allow great children to become great adults. I promise you. Carefully curated Christmases are for psychopaths. Or so I continue to tell myself.
We had a fantastic Christmas. Was it sparkly and Instagram ready? Of course not. But after almost ten years of motherhood, it my brand of perfect. I wasn't ready, but I'm beginning to think I never will be. Not all the decorations made it out. The craft supplies that were supposed to be our 2016 ornaments are still sitting in the bag. The wreath I wanted to re-do has be carefully repacked into its bin. That beautiful chocolate gingerbread cake that I planned on baking in October, is still waiting to be baked. I never did see Love Actually all the way through. I never did read Jolly Postman Holiday to the kids. But none of those things matter now. Not really. We could do all of those things now, in January. In preparation for next year. Maybe the key to fitting in all the things in December is to start doing them in January. Eureka! I'm a genius.
Now, in the most cliche way I have blinked and it's January. Actually it's January ninth, and my kids go back to school tomorrow. We are back to our regularly scheduled programming, and December is but a blur. Except for the fact that I still want to sleep all day and read all night. But I've held that belief since college. I'd like to say that December 2016 was the hardest and worst of the Decembers yet, but that would be a lie. The truth is, living on the edge, over scheduled and overwhelmed is exactly how I roll ninety nine percent of the time. That's where the naps come in.
That my friends is how you win at December-ing.
