It's Christmas time and that means that almost all of my friends who are mothers are in a perpetual state of panic, worried that they will fall short of some self-imposed standard of what constitutes an acceptable Christmas. At this time of year, mothers are infected with a menacing, insanity-provoking plague of expectations that makes them feel overwhelmed, confused, and just plain exhausted. The symptoms are easy to recognize. Go to any grocery store and you'll find an ordinarily competent, organized, and intelligent woman with dark circles and bags under her eyes, staring vacantly at the shelves, trying to remember a forgotten ingredient for some recipe. Go to any toy store and you'll find grown women stampeding for check-out counters, desperately stuffing their carts with as many wishes as possible before time runs out and Christmas morning arrives. Peek behind the door of any of those homes with Christmas lights strung all over the front lawn and you'll find the not-so-subtle signs of a stressed out mother: growing mountains of laundry, dishes, and paperwork; bitter husbands who are afraid to offer any assistance because they will inevitably face recriminations; and children who can sense that their loving mother has been stricken by an epidemic of temporary insanity.
Now . . . I'm not too proud to admit that as recently as yesterday, I too was one of those hapless victims of Christmas madness. But as I stood at my kitchen counter ripping through piles of Christmas cards, knowing that I had yet to send out a single card . . . something inside of me screamed "ENOUGH!" I opened a particularly exquisite card from a friend who had obviously employed a professional photographer to produce an elaborate folding photo booklet, and I knew it was game over. The quest for the perfect Christmas card was pointless. Even if I could somehow find clothes at the bottom of the kids' drawers that were not riddled with stains and manage to get the kids clean and looking somewhat presentable, there was no way that I was going to come close to replicating the splendor of this Christmas card. And just like the Whos in Whoville who start singing in defiance of the Grinch's evil tactics, a voice started welling up inside of me rebelling against the ridiculous expectations to which I had allowed myself to fall victim. I finally remembered who I am. I've never been a conformist, and I usually could care less what people think of me. While I'm all about enjoying every possible second with people I love, loving someone does not mean that you have to shower them with perfectly presented gifts and flawless Christmas cards.
Today, I've finally settled in to my newly discovered state of Christmas tranquility. I'm no longer trying to be a Christmas overachiever. I am now officially a Christmas slacker and proud of it. If you are lucky enough to be on my reduced Christmas card mailing list, I hope you enjoy our "good enough" card. If you're not on the list, let me just wish you a Merry Christmas right now.
