Holiday Obsessing

Usually I can wait until at least mid-November before I start obsessing over the holidays. Not this year. This year I started mid-September, around the time my oldest started school. I don't know why... Perhaps it has something to do with the two doting sets of grandparents wanting to fawn over the only grandchildren they may ever know. Perhaps it is the thought of packing and traveling with three small children that sends shivers up my spine. Perhaps it is the fact that with my husband's already busy travel schedule, I worry that we won't have any time - just the five of us - to celebrate anything.

Some families thrive and enjoy large get-togethers for the holidays: singing around the piano, sipping hot toddies, telling family stories and looking at old pictures late into the night. That's how I grew up - my mom had seven siblings, and I had quite a few cousins. My dad had two brothers - and I had cousins on that side as well. Until I was about ten, we'd stay home for maybe one holiday every two or three years. As I've grown, I've wanted to spend more time at 'home'. The problem now is home is not my parents. It's the place my husband and I reside. I look forward to the day that people visit us. Yes, I know that may require me to cook, but I like cooking. What I'd really like is to wake up, in my own bed, and spend the day with my kids and spouse. Visitors are fine, but after nine years of marriage and five (almost six) years of parenthood, I've hosted exactly one holiday. It was the Christmas I was too pregnant to travel; my in-laws came up for the day. I'm growing weary of picking up and hauling my kids around on the holidays.

I've already told my husband that I'm trying to get the holidays planned. If I know what we're doing, I'm much less likely to be stressed out.

Ha.

Now I have to figure out what the kids 'want' from their grandparents.