I take a deep breath and try to calm myself.
It's one of those Sundays where everything seems to collide in just the wrong way. Both my husband and I are very busy with work. The kids are full of holiday craziness and visions of sugarplums and dancing about asking to decorate the tree, go shopping for presents, make a gingerbread house, play a game.
Our internet crashed. Actually it crashed right in the beginning of a movie date my husband and I desperately needed on Saturday night. We were all snuggled up under a blanket in front of a roaring fire and - ziiiiiiiip. No more Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones working on their marriage in Hope Springs.
It was only 8pm, but it was the final straw for me, and I went to bed. Sometimes that's the only way to end a day that is two steps forward and three steps back.
I have a confession to make (Mom - I'm sorry), but I can't stand decorating for Christmas. I love the end result, of course I do, but I'm not at my best schlepping boxes up from the cellar and wrangling with lights and my "is the tree straight" obsessed husband. I simply don't enjoy it. I don't know how this happened, because my Mom is, hands down, the best Christmas decorator ever. No joke.
There, I got that off my chest. Feel free to criticize me all you want; it's just my truth.
Having to decorate becomes especially difficult when we're all so busy. I think about priorities, how we're always going to be busy, and try to wrench myself back into the moment, but then I sneak off to finish a few orders and my printer breaks.
How do I handle this?
I have a complete and total foot-stomping tear streaked tantrum. We're talking Toddler Tantrum.
Steve calmly steers me upstairs and tells me to lie down, take a few breaths, and come back down when I have composed myself, like I'm some kind of child. Oh. Wait. Yeah.
I lie in my bed and stare angrily at the ceiling. It's too much, I think. All the little details and permission slips and school performances and activities and play dates and homework and running a small business, and... and ... and ......
I close my eyes, stubborn tears still squeezing out from behind my squinched up eyelids.
One year ago I was gearing up to start chemotherapy and radiation. One year ago I would have done ANYTHING to have these petty little problems that aren't even problems. I just have a terrible attitude because I want attention. I've been working my you-know-what off lately and the hamster wheel never stops and I just want someone to say "GREAT JOB, MOMMA!".
Now I know how Finn feels. Sometimes bad attention is still attention.
I place my hands over my heart and count its beats; a trick I learned in my cancer support group, and in yoga. I feel my life blood pulse through my fingers, and with each beat I say a little tiny prayer: thank you.
Once my tears have dried and my heart and mind are back in the moment - this moment right here - I head downstairs, feeling blessed. Finally.