Tag: Santa Claus

Overextended

A happy life, I’ve learned, is all about balance.

A happy life usually has equal parts of joy and stress and in manageable measures.

There will always be challenges in the tasks of daily life.

We take care of ourselves. We create and check items off our “to-do” list. We pay our bills. Send congratulatory birthday messages. Take the garbage out. Eat.

But then there are those other times. The times when stress is greater than joy. When the tasks that need to be done match the complexity of Santa’s gift list. (How DOES he do it?)

Lately, I find myself in Santa’s shoes – metaphorically.

I’m setting up house and the process seems to have gone on ad infinitum. That is an exaggeration but you may relate to the feeling.

When the budget report is due at work. The term paper is due tomorrow. The school bake sale is on the weekend and you haven’t even picked up baking supplies yet.

The end of the month means all the bills have to be paid on time or face penalties and interest charges if they aren’t. Is there enough in the account to cover everything?

It is cyclical. I think that is god’s trick to keep us all moving forward. I mean, if everything were taken care of for us and we had nothing to do or plan for, what could we possibly do with all of our free time?

Part of being busy for me is personality and character based. I love being busy. It is something of a creative exercise for me to plot and plan and devise what new projects I can take on.

Whether those projects are focussed on my hubby or in the kitchen, the garden, the house, or the world at large, I am always happier when I have tasks to accomplish.

And happier still, when I have the means to accomplish those tasks. That means the health and energy to tackle them. The money to acquire the necessary components for the task(s).

If I’m honest, overextended for me is a way of being. I say I don’t like it when stress is out of control and I am wildly out of balance between happy time and fretting. But who created this imbalance, I am compelled to ask?

Er, me? Okay. Yes. Guilty as charged. It may be that overextension has become a habit of mine. I raised two children as a single parent. Those were days of fairly nonstop overwhelm.

Speaking personally, no one advises you exactly how much time, attention and hard labor (well beyond the initial birth pushing to get them here) that babies and children require.

That is likely an unspoken agreement on the part of humanity to ensure the population keeps replenishing itself. Because if everyone knew at the outset exactly what the whole child-rearing/parenting gambit was going to entail, it might discourage people from having them.

In this current slice of overwhelm I am living through, I am quietly seeking solutions. Prioritize to start. What has to be done? (And what are the consequences if it isn’t?) What do I want to do? (And why? Personal satisfaction or to please someone I love?)

Or, frankly, the third block on my priority list is that it doesn’t matter. If I ever get around to doing this thing, it likely won’t matter but I’ve always wanted to try it and wouldn’t it be neat if I could? (Rock tumbling and polishing comes to mind. Don’t ask. A childhood hangover.)

So time to make a new priority list. Time to carve up those tasks according to my little chart of need/want/maybe. Time to engage the help of others (when and as possible). Time to give myself a break.

And while I’m at it, I’m going to give myself a hand and an “attagirl” for what months of attacking “to-do” lists has already helped me achieve. I don’t normally promote looking backwards as it usually accomplishes little to ruminate about the past.

But occasionally, when you need to take a breath and a breather to reorient yourself to what you need to do, it is good to remind yourself of what you have accomplished.

Likely at a time when you were in a place very much like the place of overwhelm you are trying to dig yourself out of today. Remind yourself of what’s been done to date and how far you’ve come.

Sip and savor that cappuccino. Read a little from a best-selling new novel between tasks. Sit in the sun and appreciate the garden you planted that wasn’t there before you came along.

It’s an important strategy boost to reenergize yourself for the tasks ahead.

I believe it is called balance.

Nada Christmas

I believe I have solved my Christmas ennui. This holiday comes after a very rocky and tumultuous pre-season. For the world at large and for me.

I honestly don’t think I can handle one more story about Gaza. Every time humanity survives a major global fiasco and declares “Never Again,” a new set of horrors rise up again.

I shake with mortification about the assumptions of younger me. To be fair, I think every 21 year old believes they can save the world. It is probably designed that way so we can continually relight the internal fires of ambition and hope as we struggle to get a toehold in life and on our feet.

Life changes us. All of us. One way or the other. Our ambitions don’t necessarily change but they narrow. We trade in our ambitions to save the world and focus on saving ourselves. We shift our focus away from helping faceless masses to supporting the individuals who are born or led to us.

I am not saying we should or do move away from sharing our wealth with causes that deserve our attention. It is just that it becomes necessary to make sure our own boat is solid and floating before we try to save the ill-fated Titanic.

I have done nothing for Christmas this year. And I want nothing. As I was dithering about this and wrestling with my old inner compulsions at this time of year, I came across a most helpful blog post.

Beloved writer Garrison Keillor of Prairie Home Companion on PBS fame published a post that popped up at just the right time for me. His stories about Christmases past resonated deeply with me as he recounted the fruitless hours he spent on finding “perfect gifts” that received an at-best lukewarm reception from the recipients.

He made a most convincing argument for escaping the commercial allure of the season. In his case, he will spend Christmas at sea with his wife and daughter and no presents. He is right about one thing.

At a certain stage we are all going to declutter the accumulated possessions of a lifetime. Either we take charge and see to that process while we are still able. Or, as many do, we leave the planet and foist the unwelcome task on obligated family members.

That lacks grace and consideration. A truly loving legacy is to leave behind clean closets and organized photo albums. Not shoeboxes full of unidentifiable and unwanted keepsakes that only you wanted to keep.

I took a page from Keillor’s blog post. Today we depart for parts south on a holiday road trip to places I have long wanted to see. Not a long holiday. Just the weekend and Christmas Day. But long enough and far away enough to temporarily sever ties with the weight of holiday expectations.

That’s good enough for me. It pleases me to consider that thousands and thousands of young families with small children out there to pick up the slack. Most children still shake with anticipation and excitement about Santa’s upcoming visit. It is a joyous, fleeting and delightful life stage. Until one day it isn’t.

Your kids choose to spend holidays with their lover’s family. Pals elect to get together and make Christmas their own way. Soon, you are planning a Christmas cruise with other girlfriends. Christmas, as we once knew it, is over.

It is not necessarily a bad thing. Christmas is a loaded season emotionally precisely for its history and traditions. I have newly widowed girlfriends facing their first Christmas without their husbands. Estranged parents make excuses or lie outright to peers about the amount of contact they have with their adult children.

I have one searingly honest friend who has never enjoyed the Christmas holidays and cannot wait until this “joyous” season is over. That joy is not universally shared by a long shot. Having to keep up appearances and fake feelings of joy at a difficult and emotional time of year can make it even worse.

So I am planting a new stake as a way to “celebrate” Christmas this year. Taking care of those nearest and dearest to me without much fanfare at all. Their company and outreach is all I hope for. I can say emphatically as I get older that truly is all that matters.

At the end of the day, holiday celebration is a deeply personal and individual choice. Rebel that I am I will be celebrating my own version of “holiday cheer” with my husband by leaving town.

Santa Claus is coming and, now that I’m all grown up, I don’t think there is room for both of us. If you’re lucky enough to have little ones in your life at this time of year, then enjoy them with gusto. It is a fleeting phase.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. Happy holidays to those who celebrate other mid-winter traditions.

Whatever you celebrate at this time of year, and however you choose to do it, focus on making it yours.

Unfussy Christmas

Christmas doesn’t fuss me much. Not these days at least.

What a production it was earlier in my life though. The tree and its trimming and laying in special Christmas goodies like mincemeat tarts and shortbread cookies and cranberry/orange relish and fruitcake if it was good enough. It was quite the process.

I get that mincemeat is not to everyone’s taste and that there is no meat involved. Still, to me, it was a delicious annual treat, if one with a confusing name.

Obviously Christmas intensified when children arrived on the planet. Not in their early years, of course. But by about four or five years old, they were beside themselves in the weeks leading up to Christ’s so-called birthday, to say nothing of Christmas morning.

Such memories I have. I took the kids to a ski hill one Christmas and we rented a cabin for the weekend. Truth was that by early evening, I was bushed. I couldn’t haul myself back to the car in the parking lot to grab the wrapped presents from “Santa Claus.”

No worries, I thought, I’ll get out and get them before the kids wake up. Every right-thinking parent knows – and prepares for – kids being up before the sun cracks the horizon.

I was confronted by two teary-eyed children, bleating: “Santa didn’t find us!!!” My heart sank into my boots. I’m still not sure how I managed to retrieve the gifts and get them back into the cabin. Maybe I said Santa left them in the car? I expect the kids treated all of their Christmas gifts and Santa Claus with well-deserved skepticism after that.

An indelible Christmas memory was getting together at my sister’s house to make Indian food as the celebratory dinner. We had travelled in Asia back in the day and had fallen in love with Indian food. Masala dosas became my favorite breakfast food for a time.

I am convinced we discovered butter chicken long before the North American marketplace did. Butter chicken everything – sauce, frozen dinner, “ready to cook” kits – is now ubiquitous in grocery stores everywhere. But we found it first! (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)

The Indian feast had as many elements we could replicate of the fabulous dishes we discovered in India. Butter chicken (of course). Saag paneer (spinach and Indian cheese.) Chickpea curry. Vegetable curry (for my vegetarian sister.) Pappadum. My own handmade puri.

That simple fried bread is a miracle of cookery. Three ingredients. Throw them together. Roll the dough into hand sized rounds, flatten them and throw them into heated oil. And voila! The puri puff up and look like mini-footballs to sop up butter chicken and all the assorted dishes and pickles and chutneys. Delicious mini-footballs, I might add.

Over the years, we experimented by trying on many different Christmas traditions. I bought a book called the $100 Christmas and tried to pull off the demands of the season on a strict budget. Another time, it was a baking-focussed Christmas.

One year, I made shortbread cookies – my absolute favorite – and boxed them up to send to my father. I was so proud to have actually finished the project, packed them up and got them in the mail well before Christmas Day.

When they finally arrived, Dad expressed his appreciation for my thoughtful gift. He said he was going to really enjoy the box of shortbread crumbs I had sent him.

As the years rolled on, Christmas traditions fluctuated based on a number of things. Who of our friends or family was around for Christmas. Cost of travel. Our ability to meet those travel costs. Work deadlines or school deadlines. Romantic interests who preferred we spend Christmas on our own. Whether the kids were expected to spend that Christmas with me or with their Eastern family.

These days, Christmas is pared down to the basics. A two foot rosemary tree is the Christmas tree now and sits on the coffee table. The heat of short candles powers traditional metal angel chimes which adds some festive ambience. There is a fresh evergreen wreath on the front door. That’s about it.

Adult children make their holiday plans now with friends and family. I’ve even stopped giving them the traditional fine chocolate-filled Advent calendars that I gave them every year since they were little.

We make Christmas. Individually and collectively. Ours will be a little toned down from years past but no matter. It works perfectly well for me and mine.

That seems the best way to honor the meaning of the season in this house. Hope JC and his family approve.