After procrastinating for as long as possible under the guise of fully celebrating Thanksgiving, I am now faced with the prospect of lugging all of the tubs of holiday fare out of storage and starting to make ready for Christmas. Not to be offensive, but if the Virgin Mary had nine months to prepare for the Birth of Christ, why should I be expected to make ready in a mere 24 days? Granted, there are some zealots who "keep Christmas in their hearts" by scooping up discounted wrapping paper on December 26th and shopping all year for carefully selected gifts. However, I am not one of those people...in fact, those folks frighten the hell out of me.
The older I get, the less driven I become and more days than not, I feel like I have been driven over. On the rare days when I am in the driver's seat, I still drive my life a whole lot slower. I also experience what I like to think of as symptoms of Adult ADHD which render me incapable of focusing on more than one day at a time. In reality, these are likely bouts of plain old forgetfulness, brought on by aging and the fact that I destroyed a gazillion brain cells during those years that I lived in Chapel Hill. Fortunately, I have spent a lifetime surrounding myself with overachievers and planners. I also happen to have a husband who actually wakes up happy and rarin' to go. So, most days, I am too ashamed to succumb to the mediocrity that would inevitably ensue if I just stopped trying.
In stark contrast to everything I have just written, I also have a tendency to overindulge in nearly every aspect of my life during the holidays. I overeat, I overspend, I over...(fill in your favorite vice). And every year I solemnly vow that THIS will be the year that I exercise restraint. Heaven knows, I am not exercising anything else. But once the proverbial tubs have been opened, I roll like an economically-stimulated snowball towards the Day of Epiphany. Which is actually code language for the fact that I allow myself the entire 12 Days of Christmas to dismantle the holiday wreckage.
The holidays, like life in general, is about 95% preparation for about 5% of pure magic. The trick is, the magic comes in the most inane moments, and if you are too focused on the work of preparing, you may miss it altogether. So, as my Mamaw would say, You'd better be ENJOYING the preparation! As the mother of two boys, I have slowly weaned myself from the Hallmark-Lifetime-Martha Stewart envisioning of the holidays, and learned to live by a very simple rule...Do What Works. When they were younger I was insistent that they have traditions and rituals, which would translate into holiday memories and happy childhoods. The only problem was, by the time we got to Christmas morning I was a screaming banshee who hadn't slept in nine days. Memory That.
As a firm believer that children are often sent here to guide their grown-ups, I am proud to say that over the years Jackson and Braeden have successfully begun to re-train me. I am now a disciple of Doing What Works. One year that might mean Roasted Turkey and Paula Deen's Bread Pudding, but another year that might mean Cranberry Margaritas and Dominos. My boys don't care if the neighbors get homemade baked goods, they care if they get to make fun of me while I try to play the Wii. It is the Spirit of the Season rather than the Sanctity of the Traditions that they remember most. And so, I am off to start the lugging...and then the hanging and the ornamenting and the shopping and the baking and the wrapping. But I am committed to enjoying as much of the process as possible. And to knowing from the start that some of what I would like to accomplish, simply will not get done. Which could create space for magical memories that I can't even imagine yet. Happy Holla-Days!
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