A Midwinters Day Meltdown

It often starts with a moment.

A moment in time where you wake up and think what am I doing? Why am I here? Where am I going in life?

This for me happened of course at none other than Target.

The week before Christmas. At Target.

I had 12 minutes to make a return from an impulse Black Friday deal and buy 22 last minute items before I had to fly to pick my twins up from preschool to avoid being "that" mom. The late one. Again. Totally doable right?

I sped through the store like I was on a game show against the clock and about to win when I reached the checkout lane. Let me rephrase, I parked in a checkout lane. No movement. No eye contact. No one employee wanting to open another register for the 78 of us there looking frantically at the clocks on our cell phones. 

I looked at my cell phone clock. That can't be right. Let me look at my actual watch, it wouldn't lie to me. Oh no. I was Not. Going. To. Make it.

Noooooooooooo.

Say it isn't so. Tell me watch and cell phone time. Tell me you can make more time.

Then the tears came.

The thought of having to not only make a return trip to buy this (mostly) necessary random cart items but to have to bring my twins back with me to do it felt like a dagger to the soul. I checked my cart again to see if the tears were necessary or if I could abort and never return. Damn it. Among the stocking stuffers and teacher gifts were toilet paper and caffeine. Yes. A return trip was in order.

I waited in another too long line to ask in desperation if I could leave my cart with a promise to return, hopefully less sweaty but with two four year olds that may be among the world's most challenging people to shop with. We would be back. Please feel free to add tissues to the cart.

Deep breaths. Retrieved car from the garage along with everyone else doing the exact same thing at the exact same moment and only misidentified my car twice for two other black ones, one that actually didn't even resemble it.

Somewhere between my abandoned cart, my ridiculous to do list (is writing a note to remind myself to write a note to the kids in cursive from the freakin elf seriously on my to do list), inching along Christmas meets lunch hour insanity in Annapolis, I realized that I am a train wreck. And realized yet again that I AM NOT GOING TO MAKE IT. 

Shit. I suck at being Santa. Maybe not Billy Bob Thornton in Bad Santa bad. But still Kris Kringle on Miracle on 34th St. I am not. Tears.

I might actually be that baby in his lap.

It was time to phone a friend. By all things holy my friend Heidi said she would grab the twins for me from school. Her son is in their class and she has older twin boys. She told me she completely understood and to go turn around and save my cart. I love her.

I then cried at her generosity. WTF has happened to me? Get yourself together woman.

Deep breaths. I went back to that garage and acted like I owned it. I got this. Checked out with holiday joy in my voice. Headed to the liquor store with a spring in my step. Bought angelic friend Heidi a bottle of wine. And a case for our house (don't judge, it is the holiday season). Went and picked up my babes. And on that drive I woke up. 

I realized it was me. I put the stress on me. A ridiculous unnecessary stress brought on by trying to overcomplicate my life. My kids only asked for a few things already purchased and my husband and I truly don't "need" anything (aside from the toilet paper and caffeine. And the case of wine). So why make it harder than it has to be?

I think that in my hopes to give my family this dreamy magical memorable holiday that I turn myself into June Cleaver's crazy twin. I can assure you that she is not at the top of anyone's Christmas list. What am I supposed to do? Not make enough cookies to fill a small bus? Not make our own hand sewn gifts when I don't even know how to sew? Not follow Martha's 12 nights of Christmas dinners all made from scratch that includes something called mignonette gelee?

Actually yes, that's exactly what I shouldn't do. And unless it brings you pure angel rejoicing joy, you probably shouldn't either. In our quest to create a "perfect" holiday we may actually lose all the traits of the type of person we want to actually spend the holiday with.

So please remind me of this if you seeing me crying in the dollar section next December. I want to be the girl you want to shop with. I want to be able to want to stand myself. 

I know some people don't believe in resolutions but I personally feel that if the turn of the calendar motivates us to make positive changes in our lives than I am all for it. I love the idea of a fresh start, another chance to be who we aspire to be. So here are my hopes for for this bright beautiful new year for myself and I would love for you to come along for the ride:

• Live more naked. More raw, honest, simple. Pair it all down. And then some more.
• Try not to be the cause of my own crazy.
• More yoga. Teach more. Take more. Make time for it and it will have a positive ripple effect on everything else in life.
• Write more. Blog more. Create more.
• Write a novel. That is my big scary get out of my own way goal and get out all of these words floating in my head that just need to be released onto paper already. I have had my soul set on this for too long for it not to come to life this year.
• Unplug more.
• Adore and appreciate more.
• Be present.
• Laugh, play, breathe.
• Repeat.

So here's to a year of embracing, living out loud and doing so stripped down, naked and honest to ourselves and each other. 

Cheers to the pure potential that each year brings...

I would love to hear your hopes and goals and meltdowns too.

happy 2014 lovelies...

xoxo