I seem to be in working mother holiday hell. Work and the family come first, obvs, but on top of all that, we are bombared with the holiday season.
Magazines and Oprah (and the Oprah magazine!) can preach all they want about how we need to cut back and enjoy the holidays. Ok, but where? What do we cut? And how? I've cut everything back to bare bones. Laundry and groceries are musts so CPS doesn't drag the children away. The dogs enjoy being fed and poop has to be cleaned up at least annually. I triage the crap that has to be done and now I'm supposed to add in the holidays?!?
Every evening after work this week has been spent shopping, making cookies, cleaning up the mess, doing laundry. I kid you not, I've been to a store every night this week (different stores for different things/errands) and still had to bake into the wee hours, rotate laundry in between batches, and wipe shit off the dogs' paws because Leo had to poop on the steps when the weather turns cold. (Gwenyth is smirking because she does all this in a single morning and still has time for pilates after she bakes her macrobiotic cookies.) I'm doing it this week because next week is a killer at work and I know I will be too stressed and exhausted to deal with it then.
No one expects me to be superwoman, least of all me. I want to make sure that my children have a nice memory and that we start some wonderful traditions. I want to enjoy the spirit of the season. I want to drink by the glow of the tree. I want to do the cookie exchange because I need that time with my friends to chat and unwind and reconnect. I will do all of this, even if it kills me - which it just might.
And if it doesn't get done, fuck it. The kids can go to therapy later.
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