By Donna
It’s a funny thing about December. Just as we expect to sit back and enjoy a season of Peace on Earth, Good Will Towards Men (and Women), our lives go on fast forward. Our days are spent shopping, cooking, decorating… and that’s just for our children’s classes at school! We’re doing the same thing at home, and at work there are deadlines that have been moved up so that they don’t bump into the holidays.
It’s a joyous time, but inevitably stressful, and making it to Christmas vacation each year seems to get a little bit harder. We’re like hamsters in a wheel, rushing to get everything done.
That’s how I was feeling as I struggled with a survey I’m responsible for creating at my daughter’s school, where I work. For the past three weeks, I’ve been living and breathing that thing and counting the days -– not until Christmas, but until the District freezes the data I’m using before that sucker can be signed, sealed and delivered to them. That’s when I will finally be able to take some time off and focus on our family’s holiday preparations.
I was probably dreaming about it when my daughter awakened me at 4 a.m.
“I can’t sleep,” she said. I rolled into the middle of the bed to make room for her to crawl in beside me. At nine years old, she doesn’t do that often any longer, and I kind of miss it. I stroked her hand. It felt hot.
The thermometer read 101.8. I gave her some Motrin, put her back to bed, and started ticking off all the things that still needed to be done on the survey. All the wheel spinning I’ve done over the last few weeks have left it in pretty good shape; I’d had the foresight to print out a copy and leave it in my principal’s Inbox so she can review it. I left her a voicemail to let her know why I wouldn’t be coming in and where I left off on it.
The survey will be fine. The school will get on without me.
Only a few years ago, an elevated temperature would send me into a panic. Now, I look at it as an opportunity to slow down, relax, and spend some quality quiet time with my little girl.
It was a dark, rainy, dreary day; perfect for staying home and curling up with a good book or DVD. As I wrote this, Megan was sprawled on the living room couch, bundled up in the fuzzy chenille throw blanket my mom gave her as an early Chanukah present. She was watching a movie and stroking the family cat (who knows a cozy lap when he sees one). I was thinking maybe we’d bake some holiday cookies later, if she felt up to it.
It was going to be a wonderful day.
Donna is a San Fernando Valley wife and mother.
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