HollaDaze

Crazy

 

Tonight, we are driving home from gymnastics and I am refereeing something that is going on in the backseat. I’m not quite sure what. Voices are raised back there. The severity of the thumping and conflict is getting elevated.

Someone is accusing someone else of being too picky. Someone else is saying someone’s breath stinks. I don’t even know the catalyst of the chaos honestly. I just know that when a rotating, airborn shoe landed in the passenger seat beside me that an intervention was warranted.

But it didn’t exactly come out the way I planned. When the car pulled into the garage shortly thereafter, I said OUT NOW in such a way that I didn’t even hear the doors close. Those kids leaned into the last inch of door-closing with their backpacks to avoid making a sound.

I stayed in the car. For a long time. 

Then I went in and instead of asking about homework, I started doing write-offs. In my head, anyway. I will NOT be a Grinch. I will NOT be a Grinch. I will NOT be a Grinch. I will NOT be a Grinch. I will NOT be a Grinch….

But I already am. What is it about this time of year that makes some of us almost unbearable to be around? One minute, I’m like find-me-some-mistletoe, hell yeah, FA LALALALA and the next minute, I’m boxing a pillow and hiding in the garage wishing I still smoked.

I got it all figured out though. I took that To-Do List and I wadded it up and I threw it away. Who knew it weighed so much? 

It’s NOT about the gifts. It’s NOT about the gifts. It’s NOT about the gifts. It’s NOT about the gifts. It’s NOT about the gifts. It’s NOT about the gifts. It’s NOT about the gifts. You’re welcome.

I think that I can come out of time-out now. And play again. We all can. That’s all.

SB


 

 

 

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