Tomorrow is our last Christmas celebration of the year, and it’s happening at my house. As Michael left for work this morning he asked, “You’re not going to freak out, are you?”
“About what?” I responded, thinking he had bad news to tell me.
“About tomorrow. You know, getting the house ready and stuff.”
“Oh. No. Not at all. Really.” And the funny part is – I was being honest. I have no intention of freaking out (like I usually do) over what my house looks like and whether the food is perfectly prepared and have I selected the right wines and how the kids are dressed . . .
My Christmas tree has no ornaments on the lower third. Not because of young children, because of excitable dogs with strong tails. There’s an ewok in one of the nativity scenes.
And the tree is so dry it’s shedding needles like a neurotic retriever sheds fur. Everything I’m cooking is from someone else’s recipe, and the wine will most likely come in a box. I don’t care what the kids wear as long as it’s clean and fits. Oh, but they can’t wear pajamas. Only I can wear jammies when company comes over, because I’ve earned that right.
Maybe I’ve accomplished something in 2010 after all. Perhaps dealing with all the out-of-my-control situations of the past year (Aaron’s move from high school to college, John’s move to middle school, the company I’ve worked for the past nineteen years being acquired by a large corporation, constant neck and back pain) I’ve finally, at the ripe old age of forty-four, learned not to waste time worrying about things I can’t control. Damn, and that wasn’t even on my list of resolutions! Have a Happy New Year, everyone!