This is one of those days where I blew it. Big time.
I woke up with an agenda — never a good sign. “Finish the Christmas cookies and tidy up the kitchen,” sounds simple enough, right? Unless you factor in that I’m a perfectionist with three children.
To be fair, it wasn’t all my fault. The knowledge that we’re opening gifts tomorrow morning transformed my precious children into deranged, entitled, quarrelsome, spoiled brats (whom I love dearly). I spent a most of the day screaming: “JESUS IS THE REASON FOR THE SEASON!” in answer to every wheedling prediction about their impending windfall.
By evening, I’d made an unscheduled trip to the grocery store, yelled at 100% of my children, made at least 33% of them cry, intervened in too many arguments to count, made up yet another kids’ chore list that will be completely ignored, and threatened to return each and every Christmas present and run away to Mexico with the money.
Yes, I finished the stupid cookies. And cleaned the stupid kitchen. And hated every minute of it.
My hubby came home,
rescued fed the kids, and I left for a haircut appointment. Give me thirteen minutes in a kid-free car and I will unravel the mysteries of the universe (almost). My thoughts went something like this:
That was a disaster…
…Good grief, my kids are missing the whole point of Christmas…
…I’ve obviously failed to raise them properly…
…Maybe… it’s because I’m missing the whole point of Christmas.
Once again, I tumbled headlong into Truth — as reflected in the mirror of my children.
There’s no small amount of hypocrisy in my yelling “JESUS IS THE REASON!” while I stress over baking 15 dozen perfect Christmas cookies and getting all the pots and pans washed.Continue Reading