I remember the electric anticipation of Christmas Eve when I was a small girl. Christmas was magic at my house. My mother lived and breathed Christmas. We did not have a lot of money, but Christmas was absolutely monumental. Toys laid out from Santa, everywhere; stockings overflowing with treasures. My mom loved it. Sugar cookies and a gingerbread house every year. When my sisters and I woke up on Christmas morning, the tree was magically covered with candy canes that had not been there when we went to sleep. It was a wonderful touch.
I am getting a little bit excited this afternoon, though in my own muted adult-ish way. Tonight my kidlets and I are having a fun “appetizer dinner”, and the meatballs are already working in the crockpot. Special Man Friend is joining us, and it’s a little bittersweet, because I had hoped that at some point CC would be included in life with my kids, but we just aren’t there. (I used to say, we aren’t there YET, but there’s been a shift within myself the past few weeks, and I am realizing that maybe we won’t ever get there.) But I am excited about having him here tonight. Last year at Christmas, he was out of state with CC visiting their families. The previous year, we had just started dating, and were nowhere near considering sharing holidays. Shoot, I had no plans to even introduce him to my kids at all. Ever.
The holidays have been a challenge this year. I know a lot of people struggle. For me, its an overwhelming sense of pressure to be good enough, to do enough, to make things fun and perfect and memorable. Generally, I consider myself a failed perfectionist, and I have to fight the tendency I have to give up and do nothing, lest I risk failing at doing the perfect thing. It’s a little bit ridiculous.
Tonight we are going to just chill out and eat, and decorate waffle cone Christmas trees with canned frosting and candy. We will drag our pillows and blankets downstairs and cuddle up in front of the Miracle on 34th Street (the one from the 90’s, its my favorite!). I can’t wait.