The dog knocked down the Christmas tree for the SECOND TIME yesterday. And I’m pretty sure he took several years off of the life of the poor, seasonally-employed UPS delivery lady (she’s not our regular driver, just a ride-along who runs packages to doorsteps). Oh, boy, did that dog flip out. Beware, anyone who comes to our door. Now you will not just be greeted by frantic barking and snarling teeth, but also the crash of Christmas decorations. None of the ornaments broke, so that’s good, but it makes me wonder how many more times we’ll go through this before the end of the season.
Is it just me, or does the Christmas spirit mean working one’s ass off to please others and get things perfect for others and then falling sick and positively dying because no one takes care of you? No? Just me?
No, dammit, it’s not just me, and I know it. How many of you wives buy Christmas presents for your husband’s entire family? Raise your hands, go ahead. Yeah, me too. One would think that, said husband having known those family members his entire life and me having only known them the duration of our relationship, and not ever having lived with them or gone on vacation with them or whatever, he would be more qualified to find the perfect Christmas gift for them. And you know what else? It’s not one Christmas gift! It’s at least two! Because we don’t receive a Tony-and-Amelia gift; I receive a gift and Tony receives a gift. So I have to come up with at least two gift ideas for everyone in our families. Is anyone truly keeping score? No, of course not. But I would feel badly if we didn’t get everyone a couple of gifts, so we do.
And then there’s the ham. And the turkey. And the pie. And the cake. And the sides. Yes, they’re all coming to my house this year, and I AM happy about that because it means that my children will get to have their grandparents around them all weekend and they’ll wake up on Christmas and run downstairs in their pjs to the tree in our own house and we won’t have to cart Christmas gifts back on a five-hour-drive that would probably take at least eight hours due to Christmas traffic and potty breaks, etc, but it’s still stressful, you know?
I’ve cut way, way back on “activities” this year – we aren’t going to the Lights of Christmas, I’ve been saying “no” to invitations more often – but we’re still awfully busy. The coincidence of year-end-planning, inventory counts, a large website project at the office, and the holidays has me thinking we ought to consider rescheduling Christmas for sometime in July. And all this madness even though my family, bless them, all agreed to cut back on presents even further this year, with a maximum dollar amount and an insistence that we all not go crazy. But the shopping still must be done, and frankly, I like giving gifts. It makes me really happy. Part of the Christmas spirit for me is buying and giving things to the people I love. I just wish I was one of those super organized people who could remember to shop throughout the year, instead of getting past Tony’s birthday and then trying to do it all in the already limited time I have each day.
So this week I did what any woman would do under such busy, stressful circumstances: I got a terrible cold that landed me in bed all day Sunday and then I got a yeast infection and started an epic face breakout. Because the exhaustion from working so hard and getting up with kids at night was just not enough, right?