It's the Hap-Happiest Time of The Year - So Why do I Need a Xanax | Working Mother

The Working Mommy's Manual

I confess I am a workaholic who fiercely loves my family, friends and two rescue dogs. I stuggle to find the balance between all of this and though it's really hard it's also REALLY hilarious! I am brutally honest about this adventure we call being a working mom. Through my honesty I hope to empower and inspire women to believe that they can do this.

It's the Hap-Happiest Time of The Year - So Why do I Need a Xanax

It's the Hap-Happiest Time of The Year - So Why do I Need a Xanax

It's the Hap-Happiest Time of The Year - So Why do I Need a Xanax

I would like all the working mommies out there to stop what you are doing and take a deep cleansing breathe with me. That's it, release to the universe all your worries and fears. Stop fretting about all the things you have no control over like delayed flights, inclement weather, unappreciative children, drunk guests at your holiday dinner, your mother's "helpful" advice (could be on anything from how your dress your children to how you cook your food - doesn't matter, just release it). Are you starting to feel better? Yeah, me neither!

Can I just start by asking what grown thirty-four-year-old man can't book his own flight? Okay, even if this gown man can't book his flight and relies on his girlfriend in Belize to do it (Dear God do they even have the internet in Belize?) can't he at least be responsible enough to transmit the correct arrival time to his family? His loving family who are coordinating Christmas dinner around his arrival time? Beef tenderloin waits for no one - the chef needs at least an hour window to work with my friends!

I love my brother, I love my brother, I love my brother.

Speaking of childish behavior, there should be a law passed that no child under the age of eighteen should be allowed into a retail store the week before Christmas - unless the mother has been given the proper dosage of pinot noir. If you asked my children when Christmas is they could give you an answer to within one-one-thousandth of a second. But God forbid I have to drag them through Target to pick up last-minute you know, anything, they still whine about me not letting them get anything. When I remind them that Santa will be blowing their minds in two days with crazy Christmas loot they act like they totally forgot. Seriously, where is my glass of pinot?

And if I have to listen to Alvin and the Chipmunk's Christmas movie one more time I will be running to the nearest hospital and begging for a lobotomy. If the detainees at Gitmo think water boarding is bad, wait until they hear Alvin singing the Christmas song for the fiftieth time. There is one scene in the movie which has a touch of humanity that has kept me from driving off the road so far. I'll share for any other moms who are being tortured in similar fashion:

Mother in Store: [apologizing for her daughter hitting Dave on the head with a box while shopping in a grocery store] Oh, sorry about that. Sorry.

David Seville: Kids, huh?

Mother in Store: Yeah, they keep you on your toes. You have any?

David Seville: Three boys.

Mother in Store: Some days are better than others.

David Seville: ...and then some days you just want to close them in a box, and leave the box in the park, and run away you know?

Mother in Store: [rushes off with her cart]

And Cut!

__I finally got my children to agree to watch Elf last night - but only after I promised to only answer my phone by saying: "Hi this is Buddy the Elf! What's your favorite color?"

I love my sons, I love my sons, I love my sons.

So here's the deal, this time of the year can be wonderful but let's not fool ourselves - it takes a ridiculous amount of time, energy, and patience (or wine). Which us working moms don't have a ton extra to begin with (you know, except for the wine). So instead of stressing out about how everyone else got their cards out on time, or decorations up the day after Thanksgiving, or shopping done in June (who are these women, and which laboratory assembled them?) just put down the glass of wine and the bottle of Xanax and stop running. Because here's the truth: perfection is a big fat lie - and let's face it, some of us are just better liars. So what if the Christmas cards turned into New Year's cards, or if your brother has to reheat his food, or your holiday cookies are still sitting unmade in your pantry right next to your best intentions? The world didn't end at the end of the Mayan calendar, and my friends it won't end if your holiday isn't perfect. So put down the bottle of Xanax, cut yourself some slack, and embrace this "Happiest Time of the Year" and all its imperfections!

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The Working Mommy's Manual by Nicole W. Corning