almost on a roll

With an apparent early attempt at a New Year's resolution, here I am for a second post in the month of December.

I spent the day doing the holiday baking stuff that I sort of enjoy but simultaneously detest. I make a little goody tin for the families of all my brothers every year to accompany a family calendar with dates of note inserted as friendly reminders of birthdays and anniversaries of our crew. Yeah, it's cheap, but it takes more time to pull together than a bath treat assortment off the shelf at Target and that's what counts, right?

Holidays in a family with 4 brothers and parents who heart chaos more than life itself (evidence: actually spawning 5 offspring in an age of dependable birth control options) can be trying to say the least for my inner holiday perfectionist. Yeah, I LIKE cutting out the gingerbreads and making my tree decors by hand. Suck it.

But like every amateur Martha Stewart, that enjoyment is seated in a deep pathological need for everything to look right in order for it to BE right. I know this is irrational. But just as my brother B loves nothing more than showing up to family events 3 or 4 hours late, I love the predictable, the traditional and the comforting during this time of year. It's the only time I feel that life can be tied up neatly with a bow and scented with cinnamon. I find that illusion incredibly comforting and it's the only time of year when I allow myself such emotional indulgences.

As traditional as I am, I carry the torch of rebellion that my parents instilled in me. So if my kids absolutey hate the predictability I've strived so hard for as an adult, I'll understand. It will get to me, but I'll understand. And will secretly be proud that they had such stability as to feel comfortable thumbing their noses at it. I'll be glad that the pathology of holiday perfection ended with me.