As always at this time of year, I’ve given myself the maximum amount to do with the minimum time to do it. I love Christmas time. I really do. I just don’t like all the responsibility that comes with it.
I love giving, I hate shopping. I love eating, I don’t like the stress of making sure I have everything I need and getting it all ready on time. And don’t even get me started on wrapping presents. I love seeing them under the tree … if only the elves would wrap them for me.
Is that too much to ask?
It looks like I won’t be able to have my mother over this year. The Covid cases in my town are climbing, and while I trust myself not to give her anything other than gifts and food, I understand that not everyone is as careful as I am. The long term care home has to make a blanket rule, and I’m much more comfortable with them saying no to all the families.
But my mother won’t understand. She doesn’t remember there’s a virus, even if I tell her every two minutes. I’m hoping they’ll still let me visit with a negative Covid test. I might at least be able to do that.
So where was I with the mini/maxi thing? Oh yeah! I’ve also given myself a week to edit 50K words of my own book for publication in February. And I have two days to go with 25K words left to go before I have to send it to my developmental editor.
Much appreciation to John Holton for our prompt word today! You can find his Just Jot it January post here. Check it out, say hi, and go ahead and follow him!
I really need to apologize for not showing up for my own prompts in a timely manner.
I’m doing a paid edit on someone’s novel and I’m on a deadline, so that has to take precedence over everything else. In a close second are the writing of my own book, the editing of two of my other books, my blog, the kids, the animals, the housework, the groceries, exchanging Christmas gifts that don’t fit, paying bills, dealing with everything that Alex being in the school play next week entails, and appeasing my mother who will perish if she doesn’t get a pack of cigarettes soon.
Is it any wonder that I just got distracted by the cat who’s laying beside me on the couch snoring?
Better than Facebook, I suppose.
Oh hell, why not just toss that into the mix too. It’s always good for a few lost hours.
They say you can’t make everyone happy. But what if you can’t help trying?
I’m okay to a point. I can say no to people if I feel that what I’m saying no to is in most people’s best interests. Or if what they’re asking for is impossible. Take Alex, my youngest son, for instance. He asks me to take him to the toy store a minimum of ten times a day, every weekend. I tell him I don’t have the money to buy him a video game every weekend and I stick to it… mostly. On average he somehow ends up with about six a year.
On Friday my mother moved into a retirement home. She is of course not happy – I’m told that it’s rare anyone is, for the first little while. If she lives alone it will be up to me to get her groceries, take her to her appointments, make sure she’s safe and healthy, and all this from the other end of town. Granted, it’s not a big town. But when I’m faced with dragging a kid around who may or may not be hooked up to a feeding pump and leaving my Autistic son, Chris, at home alone for an indeterminate period of time, it is a big deal for me.
Having her in the home where she can be supervised 24/7 is a huge worry off my shoulders, both because I know she’s safe and I know she’s eating well. And yet I can’t stop thinking, What’s one more thing? I can handle it… make her happy and let her live alone.
How do I convince myself that I matter in all this? I have to stay strong.