Panic of the Season

Last week the digital temperature gauge on our kitchen wall dropped so rapidly it would have kept pace with a Vegas roulette machine. An Arctic cold front moved in, along with 4 – 6 inches of snow and ice, and my good mood slid eastward along with the warm weather. Relieved when our morning workout was called off, I dived under the warm, fuzzy blanket on our coach and promised myself a few minutes of extra rest. An hour later, I staggered into the kitchen to make lunches and breakfast, wondering if I could find my way back to the coach at any point during the day. A prolonged period of collapse seemed promising.

The holidays often induce such mood – dives . From the high of opening our newly ordered Christmas photos to the lows of driving through snow and ice to get to numerous appointments, my energies and emotions rise and fall like the notes of “A Little Town of Bethlehem.” On Wednesday I prepared for the storm by organizing the yard and unscrewing the hoses. I restored the lawnchairs to order – one had been flung to the grass, apparently an incidental victim of squirrel-on-squirrel violence – and let the water drain out of the newly freed pipes and hoses. I was mesmerized by the water dripping away and felt my energy float along with it.

The kids feel similar rhythms of excitement and pressure. Between delight in finding our Elf’s new location each morning to the thrill of opening a new link on our Advent chain each night their mood rises and falls depending on their certainty of receiving special presents. I particularly love a story told by a good friend of mine about his grandson, which illustrates the pressures children feel at this time of year.

The child went with his family to an outlet mall for Christmas shopping, where they observed the miraculously short line for Santa’s lap. The parents hustled their son and daughter over to Santa, despite the kids’ protests that they had not prepared their lists yet. The daughter went first and came up with a few desired items, then the young boy took his turn. Santa asked, “What do you want for Christmas this year, sonny?” and the parents’ eyebrows raised when they heard the reply, “Uh . . . bamboo?” Upon walking away together, Mom could not resist asking, “What was that about?” The boy replied, “Don’t ask. I panicked.”

Don’t we all. When the stamps run out with 38 cards left to address, when the sugar cookies burn just as its time to leave for a party, when crazy kid behavior leads parents to threaten to “cancel Christmas,” we all get a bit crazy. It just takes a quick step back (or an extra nap) to see the humor and fun and delight of the season. Wishing you all a cozy blanket and some time to use it.