I'll Just Whisper It...Christmas

Enough time has elapsed since my Christmas meltdown to share it with you. I think if the Grinch had slunked down my chimney I would have been relieved. Take it all away. I’m sick of it, had been my thoughts before Christmas. I felt as if I couldn’t do one more thing for one more person; I’d hit overload. And it wasn’t pretty. I felt like Atlas with the crushing weight of Christmas on my shoulders. Crazy Christmas mania barreling down on me and I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t run away. I’d drop Christmas World!

One morning before leaving my house for yet another errand, I cried. “Why do I have to MAKE Christmas for everyone? Make it for us. Make it for my parents. Make it for friends.” I was in a bad way. But happily, I gained a bit of perspective after I’d survived yet another December 25th.

Earth to Maureen! God made Christmas – not I. But I was exhausted, as most moms are at Christmas. I let the hype get to me. I let it dictate my mood. No one “makes” me do what I do. If I bite off more than I should chew, that’s my fault. I have set the expectations; I can modify them to preserve peace and sanity. I’m a big proponent of sanity for moms, in case you hadn’t noticed.

My biggest and most stealthy thief of holiday cheer has always been the dreaded Christmas cookie. This may sound quite silly to a non-baker, but I know many of you are nodding your heads right now in agreement. I just know it.

Long years ago I baked a certain type of apricot cookie which one of my brothers absolutely adored. It became a tradition. I swear, everyone who’s ever eaten this cookie is smitten with it. And oh how the cookie circle has widened! Of course, it’s a labor-intensive cookie. Or so I thought until I learned how to make Lebkuchen and Springerle – German recipes from my husband’s grandma. These are killers! So much time. And now that Grandma’s only baking for the angels guess who’s the only person here on earth who makes the cookies? Oh the guilt! The ridiculous self-inflicted guilt. This year I didn’t make either kind. And instead of baking six batches of the favorite apricot cookie, I made two. And the sun didn’t fall out of the sky. Remarkable! I said no to several kinds of cookies this year, and we are all the thinner for it. So next year I either start baking early or reduce the quantity. Simple.

Believe it or not, I did a few things right this year. My Christmas cards were mailed early which left me the time to address cards for my parents’ friends. This second batch got a little hairy as the holiday edged closer, but then I thought, Who’s ever going to know? If someone’s changed address was difficult to find – oh well – no card this year. The earth didn’t open up and swallow me.

Here is a public shout-out of thanks to my husband who wrapped every single gift to our boys this year. Another load off.

As Christmas ended and New Year’s Eve preparations began, I felt the same tugs. Everyone expects the familiar treats around here: sausage rounds, stinky feet, spinach dip, cheeseball, on and on. New Year’s Day brings similar concerns as my in-laws visit for the traditional good luck pork and sauerkraut dinner. Tradition! Tevye started something in Fiddler on the Roof. Something that drives women crazy. How about pizza next year?

Rethinking a few ideas right now while Christmas is fresh in our minds is a good way to ensure a little less lunacy 11 months from now. What worked? What didn’t? And what are we going to do about it? Let’s start a new tradition, ladies. Let’s get rid of the guilt, and let’s start now. Let's practice throughout this upcoming year. Trial runs for the big event, shall we say. Anything on the horizon that is making you needlessly nervous? Super Bowl celebration at your house? Birthday party for someone? Set realistic expectations for yourself. You are not Superwoman. (Well, really you are, but let's keep that our little secret, OK?)

Happy Wednesday, Superwoman!