My Tim Hortons Holiday Moment

I'm feeling stressed. Nothing is really coming together as I had hoped this holiday
season. I had high hopes of Christmas organization, food made in advance,
baking, homemade gifts, the full-Pinterest works!

But instead I have a poorly (read: hastily) decorated tree and a store bought tin
of shortbread, and I spent this afternoon in a scarily empty outlet mall off the
highway.

I really want the holidays to be perfect for my kids; I want matching stockings, not
dollar-store mismatch. I want the lights in the windows, not stacked in a pile on
the porch floor. I want, I want — but all I seem to have time to do is shop, sort of
wrap, and do the bare minimum to get dinner on the table every night.

My mom is a saint and is sending me menus and grocery lists (she is even
going to do the Christmas dinner grocery shopping!), but still I can’t even find
the twenty minutes I need to reply to her email about whether I want the Gordon
Ramsay gravy or the Jamie Oliver cranberries. Yet again I am left thinking, How
did my mom DO all this when I was little? And then to top it all off, a fucking
mouse ran through my kitchen yesterday. Seriously!? I thought I had curbed this
problem. Merry Christmas (cue eye roll).

And don’t even get me started on my husband at the holidays!

Shopping, no way. Not till the 23rd at the earliest. I’m not materialistic, but
sometimes it is hard to accept that your gift (as nice as it may be) was purchased
twelve hours before at an overcrowded Bay. Sometimes I want to throw in the
towel (or at least buy my own gift).

But my faith in it all was restored just ever so slightly this morning when we
dropped of cards to W’s teachers at daycare this morning. I made him go around
to all the daycare workers whom he has a relationship with, and he said “Merry
Christmas” as he gave them $5 Tim cards (very Canadian!) with yellow marker
scribbles on the envelopes. And it was like a perfectly heartwarming commercial
— they all had huge smiles and big hugs and one even teared up.

It was a reminder; Christmas really is about the feeling — not the ornate antique
wreath (fuck you, Pinterest). It is about how wonderful it is to hear your two-year-
old saying “Ho ho ho,” and to see your gorgeous new baby and your brilliant
toddler in matching fleece pjs in front of a failed attempt at ornament making.
So I have banned myself from any more Pinterest until December 26, and
instead I am going to hunker down and watch Rudolph until the spirit comes back
to me.

Merry Christmas, mommies. Have a glass of wine (or Baileys) and try to relax —
no one except you knows there is a mousetrap behind the Christmas tree!

-Tightrope Mama

[image source: Pinterest]