It’s too much, the Christmas, the remodeling, the toddler.
Oh, I love them all, one at a time. But together? All at once? For the entire month of December? The Christmas in various stages of dismantle, plus the house in various stages of remodel, plus the toddler who got 1,347,475,862 pieces of flair for Christmas and wants ALL THE THINGS OUT, ON THE FLOOR, ALL THE TIME?
Oh, and let’s not forget that all of my 2015 tax info and receipts, from my THREE home-based businesses (yeah, I know it’s dumb to have three, but I closed one in 2015, and the other is this blog, so there’s that, but whatever), are spread out 9 inches deep across my 12-seater dining room table. What I’m trying to say is NOT ONE ROOM IN MY HOUSE is calm, soothing, and peaceful. Not even my normally calm, soothing, peaceful dining room.
Mama’s going to snap.
Listen, this house-flipping thing is NOT for everyone. And I’m beginning to think it’s especially not for me, because SANITY. And Feng Shui. There’s truth to that, y’all. Those Chinese people know what they’re talking about. My bagua, yin, yang, and whatnot, are all out of balance. Energy and harmony ain’t flowing freely because they’re getting tripped up by tools, ladders, paint cans, and half-done projects in every room and it’s seriously disrupting my chi, man. If I could just please have ONE ROOM FINISHED. Just one. Just one room without remodeling paraphernalia in it, or our belongings stacked haphazardly on the floor because I’m painting the walls, or one that doesn’t have SOME LEVEL OF UGLY in it. I’m really, really tired of the ugly.
I REALLY NEED SOMETHING TO BE BEAUTIFUL. I need somewhere soothing to rest my weary eyes. And it darn sure isn’t on the metallic wallpaper that’s still in my bathroom.
And then there’s the ginormous leather sectional sofa, brown, of course, that’s crammed into a too-small living room where to get from the kitchen to the hallway we have to do a back-bend over it, then chaturanga under the ottoman, and turn sideways to sidle around the Christmas tree, BECAUSE in our vast wisdom and intelligence we elected to redo the den floor RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, when 172 Rubbermaid tubs of decor would be coming down from the attic to fill our space with joy and cheer AT THE EXACT MOST INOPPORTUNE TIME in this history of this whole-house remodel, and the gigantic den-sized-sofa is crammed into a very small room that was never meant to contain seating for 38.
Then there’s the Christmas, Christmas everywhere. Our neighborhood got hit by a tornado last week, literally, and I lost two of my Christmas wreaths somewhere over the rainbow, and two others are hanging all skewed and crazy with three plaid ribbons to the wind, and I LEFT THEM THAT WAY. WHO LEAVES THREE SKEWED AND CRAZY CHRISTMAS WREATHS ON FIVE WINDOWS? In my defense, I never see the front of my house unless I’m coming in a hurry, or going in a hurry, and I see the wreaths and think, “DAGNABBIT! I HAVE TO FIX THOSE!” and promptly walk inside through the side door and forget what I just saw on the front of the house. That was so ten seconds ago, know what I’m sayin’? Where my ADHD people at? Can I get an Amen?
Wait, what were we talking about again?
Oh yeah, my Christmas decor. So, if you think the outside looks skewed and crazy, you should see the inside where some of the decor has come down on purpose, and some has come down because a toddler lives here. I can’t keep up. (See also: Three home-based businesses, plus a whole-house remodel, above).
I love Christmas. I LOVE it. I love decorating all the things. The music, the presents, the shiny things, and obviously the baby Savior who was born to redeem us from our sins, gosh. LOVE. And then sometime about halfway through the day on December 23rd-ish, the switch flips and I’ve had ENOUGH. Enough of the stuff EVERYWHERE. Enough bumping into that dadgum wreath hanging on my living room picture window. Enough of the garland sliding OFF of the stair banister (probably on account of the toddler CLIMBING it). Enough, even – and it feels horrifying and sacrilegious to admit this – enough of the Drifters singing White Christmas. Yeah. When you’ve had enough of the Drifters, it’s enough. Starting December 23rd, I’m ready to set some things ablaze. I’m ready to pile all the Christmas decor into a pile in the backyard and have a Christmas bonfire in honor of my Savior’s birth.
On December 23rd, I begin my annual perusal of Swedish design on Pinterest and daydreaming about living in a wide open space and having nothing. Owning nothing. Looking across a vast, white living room and seeing None of the Things. A vast, Swedish sea of minimalism.
And by December 26th, after the children have unwrapped enough small pieces, parts, and whatnot to fill a 2,920 square foot house ankle deep, and I’m wondering WHY we bought the toddler a violin that plays music, a VIOLIN, that PLAYS MUSIC, dear merciful heavens, I move on to Tiny Houses on Pinterest. I daydream about all of us choosing our three favorite items and moving to a tiny, adorable 200 square foot house on wheels and having nothing. Owning nothing. Looking down from my loft bed, which would be tucked into the rafters of our Tiny House right above the 8-square-foot combo bathroom/kitchen, and seeing None of the Things. And especially not that freaking violin, because if I hear electronic Ode to Joy one. more. time….
I know what you’re thinking: Someone needs to sing a Christmas carol.
Just please, for the love of Buddy the Elf, don’t.
It could be the last straw for an old house chock full of flammable Christmas decor, ginormous leather furniture, and 40-year-old metallic wallpaper, and I’d probably really regret setting fire to it all, at some point. Maybe. Surely.
But that violin, though?
That’s all I’m going to say about that.