The Lingering Holiday Hangover

We're well into January now. And that can only mean one, glorious thing — the holidays are officially O-VERRRRRR! (Belted out just like Oprah.)

Hip, hip freakin hooray... with a cartwheel and fireworks and silly string.

Call me Grinch. Call me heartless. Call me odd. But this past Christmas season just about knocked the sense, sanity and patience out of me.

Like most of you, my family didn’t stop moving since before Thanksgiving. We first held a baptism for Graham (16 months), and then my beautiful sister came into town for turkey day. Then more visitors and meals and gatherings and cutting down a tree all Clark Griswold-style, and then enjoying the lights at the zoo — all within one brief weekend. Then there was the shopping (mostly online), wrapping, eating, traveling, congregating, celebrating a baby shower, more eating, crying, whining, melting down, peeing on the couch. I think I accomplished the most crying myself.

Within 10 days alone, we celebrated Christmas six different times at six different homes. And stuffed our faces at every single one.  

During all the hoopla, no one really slept...and we drove for hours...and it snowed a lot and got really stupid cold. At one point someone forgot her purse after a family visit hours from home, so we had to turn around and drive back to get it. Oops. Brian (baby daddy) mightily refrained from making any snarky comments. Hey, at least I didn't forget a kid or an animal.

Really, it was a great Christmas. Honestly. Much better than last year when I was postpartum and wanted to smack each person for simply being alive and happy (hormones are very discriminating). But this year, we eagerly visited family we hadn’t seen in years, held new babies, learned of pregnancies and upcoming adoptions, and received the most adorable holiday photo cards in the mail. The “husky one” finally started to walk. And to watch Cormac “Mac” (3.5 years) and Graham (yes, the husky one) light up at every twinkling light and wrapped gift and sugar-filled, gluttonous treat was, well, pretty joyful.

And sometimes even tearful. It really does all go by so fast.

I tried to take it all in. To enjoy the brief moments of wonder and excitement and smiles, but it’s so hard when most moments are taken up with taking care of others. As moms, we first plan, prepare and pack, and then we drive to our destination or have everyone arrive at our own home, never with enough time to spare. And then we’re either stuck in the kitchen all day or we spend every moment ensuring the kids aren’t using makeshift weapons against each other.

Or in our case, aren’t tipping over one of Grandma Shirley’s 13 antique hutches full of vintage china. She and the Mister literally live in an historic home, and on Christmas Eve there were eight children, five and under, jumping on their beds, getting into their pill drawers and playing with glass collectibles from the early 1900s. The woman has six grown children of her own, so she barely batted an eye at the commotion and craziness. God bless her.

The fact is, it’s hard to find the time to truly enjoy the small moments. Because there is always something to do. Some disaster to avert. Some nasty foreign substance to wipe off a hand. Someone to pick up and carry into another room because they keep swirling their arm around in the toilet.

But I do try.

Although, there were some moments I didn’t mind rushing by quickly so I could forget them. Like Roxy dog (6 years) eating all of Mac’s Christmas lunch and subsequently puking it back up on the dining room floor. Or turning 35 years old, a week before Christmas, with a horrid cold and lost voice. Or Brian shattering a framed 5x7 of Grandma Jean during the most insane game of “link your arms and dive for the gift in the LA Gear box” I’ve ever witnessed.

Oh, and this past festive season Mac started to “cry wolf” by acting like he was sick with various ailments, from his stomach hurting to his back itching to his legs aching. He seriously acts like he is dying while laying in a heap on the floor. All in efforts to get out of whatever I ask him to do (or eat) so that he can go back to playing.

#hesagenius

#itworkedthefirstfewtimes
#imasucker

*Sigh*

But all is said and done now. It’s over. (Hallelujah.) We have a few blurry photos and dark videos from the past few months. There is some documentation on Facebook and Instagram, and of course we have our Christmas card to remind us of our mindset this past value-packed season:

“Let’s not take life too seriously... except for family and pizza.”

 And I definitely need a few more good pizzas to help me get over this lingering holiday hangover.  

-Melissa