So because I have been working more than usual and can barely get my chores done, when Christmas decorating, baking, cards, shopping, wrapping, etc is added to the mix ……forget it.
I have thrown my hands up in the air – and started to delegate a lot to Mr. Gaga.
Also – I have had to let some things go.
Some activities I simply cannot do.
The parent volunteer sign-up sheet for my preschooler’s class went right in the garbage – along with the order forms and catalogues for the pie and wrapping paper fundraiser. (sorry PTO – maybe next year ….but let’s be honest….probably not)
Traditionally, we go cut down our tree the same day as my parents, cousins, aunts and uncles, brother, etc.
We spend the day at the farm tailgating.
Let me be clear in case you find this an odd tradition – my husband would tailgate at funerals if they let him. Any excuse to start an open fire and stand around it for hours on end talking, drinking and eating…..
This year – I just couldn’t find a day that worked – so I gave up and told Mr. Gaga to go without me last Saturday morning. I told him to go early and come home in the afternoon, that way he could put the tree up – and start dinner. I would get home around 7, we could eat dinner and then trim the tree as a family.
Mind you – this was at the end of a long 50 hour work week for me and Sunday would be the start of another one – so we really only had this small window of time to decorate the tree and have some family time.
Do you know when I got home at 7:15 PM…… hungry and tired, looking forward to dinner and a glass of wine and Christmas cheer……..
Mr. Gaga and my tree were NOT HOME YET.
Do you understand what I am telling you?
Not only was the tree not UP WITH LIGHTS ON IT…..
…….it was not FUCKING HOME.
Do you know at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life” when George Bailey comes home and wants to kill everyone – and he kicks all the presents and says “Janie will you stop playing that lousy piano?” and then he goes up the stairs and wants to throw the piece of the banister on the floor…..that was me.
I wanted to kick everything and murder my husband.
I trudged into the cold, dark house.
I turned on the lights.
The chicken I had put out that morning to defrost (that should now have been in a fajita) was on the counter sitting limply in a defrosted pile.
The morning coffee cups and breakfast dishes were on the counter.
The morning newspaper was strewn about.
The sink was filled with dirty dishes and……
wait for it……
the dishwasher needed to be emptied.
I went ballistic.