December 23rd historically has not been one of my finer days.
I have been known to fall apart on December 23rd. It is something about the holly jollidays, the anticipation and preparation and frankly the perfectionist tendency to try to make it a perfect holiday for everyone. Kind souls have been trying to tell me to relax about it for years — No gifts! No fuss! Kind souls have practically whacked me over the head with good advice, but I had on Santa blinders and did not see the wisdom of their words and good examples.
I did not want to let go of all the hoopla and merriment and magic, especially the last couple years when some of the “magic” had fizzled away into the world of logic and what’s real. Ironically, the harder I fought to keep the Happy in the Holidays, the more overwhelmed I became. Which is, of course, quite silly and counterproductive.
Now December 23rd is synonymous with me having an episode, as in “Now don’t go all December 23rd on me” or “Stop it! Mom will go December 23rd!” But finally, last year I believe I learned my lesson. Hello, universe? I get it now. Do not need to go through the exercise again, thanks for the nice lesson.
Last year, I made a serious tactical error and took two young boys shopping for suit coats and dress slacks, belts, ties and dress shoes. On December 23rd. I was delusional with pre-holiday manic preparation syndrome (PHMPS).
And you already know how it probably turned out, but I am going to tell you anyway: the sizes were picked over, nothing fit, small people were squirrelly in front of full-length mirrors… and then my head fell off in the dressing room. All because a couple of boys were being boys. My head rolled down a couple stalls, and I would have sent the oldest down to retrieve it for me, but he had just accidentally locked himself into a changing stall.
Ho, ho, ho.
Okay, so I have six months to change the situation. No more conniptions, melt-downs, head-rolling, or running away from home.
Make December 23rd a joyful day, with no perfectionistic PHMPS grinchiness sneaking back in…
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.