So, it is done. Thank the heavens above.
And yes, I am talking about Christmas. Call me Mr. Grinch. Call me the Oogie Boogie Man. But, it was just all too much this year. I became so tired of RUSHing around, towing a weary one-year old on my decrepit hip that I had a couple of breakdowns and was sporting a fine, bad attitude.
I never thought I would say this but...burn the tree and pour the eggnog down the toilet. I'm over it.
I've been reading some of your posts and most of you had wonderful Christmas mornings, full of laughs, relaxation, grateful tears and spending the day in your jam jams.
My day started out with dog poop under the bed, a broken dishwasher, and dog pee all over our couch, nicely soaked in to the cushions and down into the springs. Merry Christmas.
Did I mention my son was, and still is, sick?
After cleaning the dog messes and kicking the dishwasher (and my own private temper tantrum in the bathroom where my toothbrush bore the brunt of my holiday angst), we RUSHed out to my mom's house with onions for the breakfast casserole, only to have to RUSH back home two hours later to put our sickly son down for his nap.
After his nap, we had to RUSH through feeding him in order to RUSH to my sister-in-law's house for Christmas dinner. And we barely made it. Atleast this celebration was at night and I could have booze. Which I did.
Besides the rushing, I had my husband, full of festive sarcasm, exclaiming everything that happened that day was a Christmas miracle. "The dog pooped under the bed, but atleast it's already dried and hard! It's a Christmas Miracle!" "The dog peed on the couch, but atleast her stream missed the baby! It's a Christmas Miracle!"
There was just too much RUSHing this year. We have spent a few evenings in a row at my mother's house, which has been great, but this has caused us to have to RUSH home every night to put our son to bed because it ends up being way past his bedtime. And he just keeps getting sicker, probably from lack of sleep.
So, it is done. And I am glad. I'm over the RUSHing. I think from now until the end of the year, I am going to be late everywhere I go. On purpose. Just relax and take my time. Time may march on, but I'm shuffling from here on out. Maybe even walking backwards. Father Time can kiss my ass.
Now, I've got to go practice my post-holiday meditation breathing and buy a new toothbrush.