Wow. ‘Tis the season to be overwhelmed.
Tonight I wasted time designing 17 different holiday/Festivus/New Year’s cards and am still not sure which one to go with. Yeah, I know it is Dec 8. Guessing New Year’s will win by default.
Then I wasted more time trying to buy my husband’s last gift online. It is a cool gift and a great idea (which I can’t mention here since he is one of the five people reading this blog) but the check-out process was a complete nightmare that I couldn’t get to work. So I abandoned my shopping cart and left in a huff.
Then, I realized I haven’t yet started the annual calendar starring my three sons that gets distributed to grandmothers and such. This might be a problem since it will be time to use said calendar in 3 weeks or some such silliness.(2012, how did that happen?)
I also remembered I am supposed to find a Ramadan recipe for the World Celebrations party at Big F’s school.
My manager from work just emailed me to ask about a project I said I’d handle for her this week. And yep, tomorrow is Thursday and nope, I haven’t even started it yet.
There is not a single holiday decoration up in my house. Or outside my house.
My husband is sick with some sort of stomach bug. And you may or may not know this about me, but I am not Florence Nightengale. I’m not even Florence Henderson. I am not a natural caregiver and my instinctual reaction to sick people is to run in the opposite direction. I’m not heartless, I’ll be concerned and check in; I just prefer to do that via telephone or carrier pigeon.
When you have sick kids they are helpless and you have no choice but to care for them and cater to them. I believe sick adults are better treated with isolation and an occasional, “How you doing, honey? Feeling better yet?”
Due to our quarantine situation, we had to cancel the cleaning service today. So, the house is a wreck and likely harboring the germs that caused the illness that is now plaguing the husband and distressing me.
We have to remember to move Chrispie Missmiss every night. And when I say “we”, I mean not me. Except tonight my elf transporter called in sick. So now I suppose I have to pick up the slack. I’d hate to be a failure the one night it was up to me to keep the magic alive.
I ate four left over tater tots, some Cheetos (they were the “natural” ones) and a tangerine for dinner while standing at the kitchen counter.
Oh, and I have eight vacation days left this year that I have to take (or they go away), but can’t find the right time to not be in the office with all the work that is due this month.
So, yeah, today I’m feeling totally and completely overwhelmed.
But something reminded me of a quote by Anne Lamott that I recently stumbled upon:
Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, “Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.”
Projecting 4 years into the future when Big F is in a similar situation. I don’t think I will be patiently serving up such sage words of advice. I’ll probably be saying something more along the lines of “sucks to be you; now get cracking.”
But back to the present day, because this post is all about Me. I have decided to adopt that as my new mantra to get through the crazy holiday season and check the things off my (actual and figurative) lists.
So, starting tomorrow I’m just taking it all bird by bird.
