"I will pencil you in!"

It’s back to that crazy time of the year again. There is nothing that I love more than Christmas. But honestly? There is nothing I hate more than the grief that goes along with it. I hate the way that December seems to disappear right in front of me.

Today I had a bit of a manic attack when I realized that my date book is MIA. It is literally my bible for managing my life. I write down every birthday, anniversary, dinner date and tentative hang-out night. Any errand I have to run, bill I have to pay or gift I have to send in the mail. It’s seriously my how-to on living my day to day life.

I hate being that “Oh, I have to check my date book” person but I so am. I can’t help it. If I don’t use it, I end up planning something on top of other plans and making a mess of things. Also, I hurt a bunch of feelings in the meantime.

The most recent victim was my Aunt. She had hooked me up with back stage passes and a meet and greet with the Rascal Flatts and Taylor Swift. Turns out I had planned an entire break-up party for Gina on the same evening. Sigh.

I made plans to have dinner with Steph next weekend and I literally texted her: “I will pencil you in!” And cringed. I couldn’t believe I was that much of an OCD asshole that I actually told one of my best friends that I was neatly writing her name under Friday, December 12th at 6:30 pm. So bad!

I just can’t function any other way. Brian even has strict instructions to check with me for everything. If at any given moment he is invited someplace he doesn’t even have the liberty to say he can go. He has to check with me- his obsessive compulsive agenda writing wifey.

Anyway…I can’t stand this time of the year. I don’t even know why I bother to put up a Christmas tree because I never have time to sit in my apartment and enjoy it. Not that I have put up the Christmas tree. I got as far as begging Brian to bring it up two flights of stairs from the basement storage and it is now resting comfortably on our living room rug in the dusty box I packed it in last year.

I am feeling so ridiculously overwhelmed. I want to spend time with a few friends that I haven’t seen in a while. I want to have a night alone with my husband. I want to finally bring the bottle of champagne I have chilling- and tied with a bow- to the couple on the first floor that just got engaged. I’d like to finally start writing my wedding thank-you cards that are sitting in a gigantic box behind our couch. I’d like to try a few new recipes. Heck… I’d like to upload a new holiday music mix onto my I-pod and really get into it this year…But it just ain’t happening.

I’d give anything to go back and be ten years old when Christmas is the best and most awesome time of the year. Christmas throughout my childhood was most certainly a magical time. My Mom worked miracles. I took for granted all the time spent cooking, baking and planning. I just want to be that little girl again. I want to be in bed Christmas Eve unable to sleep because I am certain that I heard Santa’s boots pounding on the living room floor...