Anonymous wrote:
Can you please copy it here
12/19/2023
With something near nostalgia and barely south of PTSD, I am remembering this time of year when all my kids were basically in elementary school. We had five.
F.I.V.E.
5
3+2
In my BONES I can remember the teacher gifts, the class present exchange, the Christmas program, the Spirit Week with a different outfit every day (Jesus send the rapture), the class parties (all at the same time), 24 individually wrapped Christmas treats.
Outside of school: The Trail of Lights, the Christmas movies, the Living Nativity, the Main Street Parade, the Singing Christmas Tree, the Christmas lights neighborhood, the Barnes and Noble read aloud, the children's program at church, the tree, the inflatables, the garland, the stockings, the decorations, the Elf on a Shelf.
The gift sleuthing, gift budgeting, gift hunting, gift buying, gift hiding, gift wrapping, gift counting, gift managing not just for the kids, but also the in-laws, the spouse, the extended family, the coworkers, the UPS guy, the friends, the neighbors, the white elephants, the Angel Tree.
All while managing the parties, the dinners, the workplace Secret Santa exchange, the food, the baking, the traditions, the ornaments, the schedule, the travel, the hosting, and the family factions.
Plus a full time job.
YOU GUYS.
Sending every scrap of love to the young mamas out there doing aaaaaaaall the damn things with every ounce of energy, time, money, and love that you carry in your whole entire body. You feel exhausted because this is insanity. Don't feel confused when you accidentally cry in the shower.
You are doing brilliantly. Just a gorgeous job. Expectations are now so far in the stratosphere, nothing even makes sense. Drop 70% of it and you will STILL create a dreamy Christmas. It doesn't stay this hard. The kids get bigger and so much falls off and the rhythms slow down. Christmas returns to something saner. I promise.
I see you doing it all, young ones. I just love you so much. If I could, I'd invite you over for a lovely glass of wine and pet your hair. We wouldn't even have to talk. You could just take a nap. Until then, Merry Christmas to the women who make all the magic happen. You are doing such a good job.