When I was growing up, I remember my mom making Christmas candies and giving out plates of them to friends and neighbors. I don't really know how often she did it. It could have been every year or maybe just a few. But it happened enough for me to remember, so I'll call it a tradition. I've always wanted to do Christmas candies, but never have until now. And so I did. Yay! The end.
Okay, so I'm having trouble thinking about something good to write for you. For one, I really did make cookies and candies, and if you know what's good for you, you'll make these right now. I also made truffles, but I wasn't super happy with them. I'm a truffle snob. Ben tasted a bit of everything I made because I'm a terrible mother. But he was pretty happy about it.
Truth be told, I was hoping that it would make me feel more ready for Christmas, and it so didn't. I do this to myself every year, don't I? You think I would just buy all my Christmas gifts like a normal person, but I like making things for people. It's just that I have this affair with procrastination (my husband's totally in on it, too btw), and the little munchkin that demands my constant attention doesn't necessarily help either. He is fascinated by whatever it is I have in my hand, whether it's yarn or fabric. I do, however, have those times to myself when he goes to the sitter, but those times have thus far been lacking in productivity for various reasons. I can feel my anxiety bubbling up. Will I be ready for Christmas? Will I be able to get all that I had planned done? What if I don't? What if I grow a hunchback and move into a church to ring the bell and fall in love with a young gypsy woman named Esmerelda? What if, what if, what if?!
I know that my therapist would ask me what would happen if everything didn't get done. And I would say that nothing would happen, at least nothing bad. So why am I so stressed? I guess if I'm going to set expectations for myself, I shouldn't set them so high. That doesn't really keep me from feeling like a failure now, though. I'm still working on my projects, though. Hopefully I'll finish. I have four more days of Ben's being at the sitter before Christmas, which gives me 16 hours of child free work intensive project time. I can do it, I can do it!
Gosh, I'm so whiney. Some things just never change, heh. Okay, annoying pity party over. It's been snowy for the past couple days, and we're supposed to have more here and there throughout the week. It makes me really wish that Ben could walk, so he could play in the snow. I mean, I guess he could, but it's pretty cold to be crawling around in the snow. He's getting really close to walking, though. He's actually starting to show interest in it, which was lacking even a week ago, it seems. He'll take a few steps in short spaces to get to something else. It's exciting, and he's really excited about it, too. I have a question for you other moms out there who have been doing this for longer than I have. Is there every a time when you're not just completely interested in every little thing your kid does? Is it the novelty of having a child that makes me excited about everything he does, or is it because it's him who's doing it? Because I love him and he's a part of me and I'll always feel like he is even after he grows up, gets himself a wife and moves to Houston (purely hypothetical; I'm pretty sure the world will end before that happens)? Actually, though, Ben's training to become a chef.