Brett makes fun of my mental load exasperations. He says he's joking, and believes me when I say that the amount of pieces I have to keep track of any given day, particularly during the holidays. Problem is, I don't believe him. The Mental Load is real, friend!
Here’s how mine went this year. What to get my kid? How much to get the kid? Yes! We’ll do the ‘Want, Need, Wear, Read’ gift thing. Great idea. Oh wait, we get his preschool teachers gifts? Cool. Starbucks gift cards. They probably need a shit ton of coffee, right? Oh crap, I need to print off hard copies of photos for all the grandmothers. Hey, Brett, did you get our nephews toys? Next week? Cool. I need to get my brows waxed before the holiday party. No, no, not mine, but the client appreciation open house. Shit, my new boots have a ripped heel? Do I bother returning? No, Target’s a mad house. Why isn’t that Maui toy here yet? Wait, USPS said it was delivered. Brett – can you go check next to the garage behind the garbage cans to see if that’s where the mail guy stashed our kid’s favorite demigod? Oh no, my colleague needs help with a deadline two days before Christmas. Yep. Yep. GOT THIS. Crap, where I did put those Starbucks gift cards? Picture all of this now, while memorizing the harmonies from Olaf’s Frozen Adventure from constant play in the living room, in our cars, at grandma’s house. In our dreams. Listen, I know moms (and dads!) have been doing this for generations, and parents of yore had it way harder. I can’t imagine lighting real candles on my really dead, dry tree. I lose it thinking I left the house and left the lights plugged in. What if our cat, who has never looked twice at the tree, attacks, and somehow starts a fire? I’ve always loved A Christmas Story, but my appreciation for Ralphie’s mother goes above and beyond now. Yes, Ralphie, that IS a crummy Ovaltine commercial, but your mom is downstairs dealing with sexualized lamp décor, a furnace that keeps blowing up, AND has to cook constantly and still never gets hot food, so, like chill, sweet child. Thing is, and this is the mommy blog coming out to play – this Christmas was awesome. My kid adored ripping the paper off the carefully chosen toys, books, clothes. He hides in his tent, he giggles and smacks flat palms into his two dozen brand new Play Doh cannisters, his head basically explodes if someone mentions baking anything. This kid embraced Christmas in a way I’ve never been capable of. But he’s helping me get closer. Now, if you’d kindly excuse me, I need to go make a giant cookie in the wavy shape of Norway, now. *Thanks Olaf. You charming snowman.
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