'tis the season

I've been feeling a little down lately. I think the holidays are catching up with me. I was going strong for a while. We decorated the house with our Moravian star, outdoor lights, and window candles. We've been listening to Christmas carols at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, singing along loudly. And, I've drunk more than my share of gingerbread lattes. But, this week, this week, I crashed. It wasn't just the fact that TWO tree lots we visited were closed and that we ended up getting our tree at Home Depot where a bird pooped on my head. And, it also wasn't the fact that while we were enjoying blueberry pancakes at IHOP our Christmas tree - strapped to the roof of our car - was getting rained on in a torrential downpour. It certainly wasn't the fact that our credit card got declined at the IHOP for insufficient funds due to our overzealous holiday shopping. Instead, I think I've come down with Elf on the Shelf Syndrome.

Let me explain.

If it hadn't been for Petula Dvorak and her article in The Washington Post this past December I probably wouldn't have the language for what's been ailing me. But, when I read her article, it all made sense. Anyone who knows me knows that one of my deepest desires is to be "together." I want containers filled with crayons. I want to organize my jewelry in a spice rack. I want to be able to find my house keys. For goodness sake, why do you think I take my pen name from "Martha Stewart" and "Mrs. Beeton!" Those women have(had) it together. Yet sadly, there are no labeled containers of sugar here. No toile covered ironing boards on my watch. In this house, chaos seems to reign. And, the holidays are, for me, all about magnifying my inadequacies.

(Yes, that's laundry on the couch along with a frog, a Santa, some ornaments, bubble wrap, and a vacuum to show my good intentions.) 

As one friend once described me: "Caroline has the uncanny ability to channel Bridget Jones (which means, while she might not actively seek out mischief and embarrassment, it finds her nonetheless)." Yup. That's me in a nutshell.

Dvorak's article helped to explain things a bit, though. If my stress is ten fold during a normal holiday season, imagine how intensified my anxiety becomes as a new parent. Not only must I find the perfect gifts for everyone on my list, but I've also got to find the perfect gifts for a pretty special little someone. And, I've got to secretly assume the role of that magical, marvelous "Ho Ho" - all while feeling pretty un-magical and un-marvelous. And now, according to Dvorak, I'm facing off not only against my inner Martha but also the crazy over-achieving parents she mentions in her article - the ones whose elves are having pillow fights and baking cookies! What's a mediocre mom to do?

Well, I think tonight this mom is going to stop sending her husband out to the store to find Christmas lights for the tree in the hopes that they can finally (FINALLY!) decorate it. And I may also just ignore this chaos in favor of a glass of wine and an episode of Revenge. I know the elf is watching. But quite frankly, I don't care.

Keep sweeping, Martha