So, I heard that song last night. If I’m completely honest, it’s not my favorite. However, the statement? Yep, one of my favorites. It is – officially – Christmas for me. I’ve now got 24 days to celebrate the holidays with no work obligations – that’s double the 12 Days of Christmas. Whoo-hoo!
In true “I’m not working until 2025” fashion, my agenda is fairly simple today: do some banking, roast a turkey breast for turducken gumbo, clean the bathrooms, strip and make our bed and vacuum upstairs. Sounds routine? Yep. In a weird way, it also sounds fabulous to me. I’m actually excited for this day.
For all that I’ve been chirping about sabbatical since September 27th, it hasn’t really been a full-on sabbatical. I worked when I could and when I had to. It was also a pretty busy time. I had several big events… friends in for a wedding, a weekend in DC, a week in NOLA for Thanksgiving, a solid week of snow shoveling… . You get the picture. There was always something on the horizon. Now? Nothin’. Even more, my out of office goes on at 7 a.m. tomorrow morning and declares me free. (Which is a weird thing – and perhaps a post all in itself about the psychological impact of one OOO message. Anyway, I digress. 😊)
Yesterday, some of the last big hurdles to my own peace of mind got cleared away, allowing me to finally stop worrying and enjoy the holiday. Today? Well, it’s about holiday time and for a few minutes, I want to talk about that elusive search for the perfect holiday and why choosing imperfect perfection is what makes the dream happen.
In an absolutely perfect world, my holiday would be about Darryl and I being home and off work together. It would magically snow every night, but the roads would be clear every day. We would have family game nights with my sisters and my nieces and nephews, romantic dinners out just the two of us and fun dinners in where we cooked together and played with our furry ones. Days would be spent making snowmen, baking cookies or going for sled rides. Evenings would be spent with glasses of wine around the fire or with a movie night and homemade popcorn. The house wouldn’t get dirty, the dishes wouldn’t need to be stacked or unloaded from the dishwasher, the bathrooms would stay sparkling clean and work would not intrude. Hell, even the blower from the fireplace would whistle out Christmas tunes in a low, soothing fashion.
In an imperfect perfect holiday season? Well, my bathrooms really need to be cleaned. The cats shed hair like crazy and I really have to vacuum daily. Wrapping gifts is not as much fun as it looks on TV. I’ll likely need to shovel, the drone of the fireplace gets a little aversive after too many days and the tree constantly needs water.
But here’s what I embrace: we will cook together one night and when we do, it will involve laughter, music and maybe some dancing in the kitchen. We will have a family celebration at Christmas and it will be loud, chaotic and absolutely fabulous. Darryl and I will complete renovations on the upstairs and each time we finish another area of the project, it will be highly satisfying.
And most of all? Everyone is healthy this Christmas. That’s the most vital criterion for a happy holiday. After years of fighting back from bad news, there is no bad news to fight back from this year. Second, everyone is settled. After professional or school upheaval for several of us, we have all settled into a clear professional and financial pathway for success. That may not seem all that important when compared to health, but there is no bigger stress than feeling like one is not doing well in their chosen pathway. Finally? We are all together. As much as this holiday will likely be disorganized, chaotic, and generally wonderfully imperfect, we are together.
I simply cannot wait. Due to professional obligations, my OOO cannot go on until 7 a.m. tomorrow, but its set. And I’m happy. For all of the stress, the planning and the reimagining, it’s finally Christmas.
Whatever or however you celebrate, I wish each and every person one moment of absolute joy this season. I remember those dark years only too well. One moment of joy in those years was almost more than I could have hoped for and when I got it, it was more than I dreamed of. I would love that for all of us. As for me and mine, this year I can honestly say my cup runneth over and I only hope I can demonstrate the necessary gratitude. It’s more than I could have wished for.
The Yuppie Homesteader 