When I tell you I’m tired, I’m TI-RED, and I know you get it because you’re tired too. I see you, Sister Mom. I hear you, I feel you, I am you. And you are me. Never mind the nuances that set us apart.
We are in the sisterhood together, and I salute you!
As we thrust ourselves headlong into December and the Christmas holiday season, which started months ago in the stores (insert eye roll here at the annual reminder of how I don’t have my act together), I’ve had a wild and reckless, dare I say – DESPERATE – thought.
While I attempt to finish decorating, I pick up the last pieces of my tattered spirit and attempt to gorilla glue them back together (is it a full moon or something?!) I have had what today is feeling like a waving of the white flag.
In a few weeks, when we are back on “holiday,” – see how I did that and put quotation marks on holiday?
‘Cause you and I know full well, it ain’t OUR holiday. And in the spirit of giving, as the last of Black Friday and Cyber Monday and our checklist of who to buy for float into the category of non-essential, fulfillment, and agonizing regret (should I have bought that?), and with the last of the online checkout clicks, it’s done! Let the boxes arrive, and the wrapping ensues.
As I start to leave subtle and not-so-subtle hints about how I don’t want anything, I surrender.
So here it is…
Not one more thing, please!
I’m sending signals into the universe, hoping in vain, Santa gets a read on his radar. This is not cynicism. It’s desperation.
Did I mention that my birthday is the second to last day of the year?
As a kid, I hated it for many reasons. Mainly because it was a bad day to get together and celebrate New Year’s Eve the next day, and a lot of time and energy were being pumped into that celebratory ideology the world over.
I literally give my husband the all-knowing, you know what I want, look of find something festive and fun for you and the kids to do. I’ll just be over here under the covers watching whatever I want and falling in and out of sleep.
So yesterday, I had this moment of total clarity through the cloud of my over-processing brain. I want Hooky Passes, so I looked it up, and I don’t believe the concept exists. It has sort of come in the form of IOUs in the past. And I don’t want or need an IOU. Owing is a word that can be misconstrued, so I don’t really like it being thrown around in my home, of all places.
I want Hooky Passes.
What are they, you ask?
They are a direct pass to not mother for a moment, or even a day. Whatever you need for self-care and preservation of sanity.
Want to sleep in, and your husband doesn’t catch on, #hookypass.
Care to overnight at the beach without beach toys, “he/she did it,” and just sublime peace and quiet? #hookypass
Don’t want to cook dinner over a holiday weekend? #hookypass
Whatever you need, #hookypass it!
Rest. Relax. Regroup. And come back better!
We shouldn’t have to be looking in a wrapped box or in the depths of our stockings to find them. Why shouldn’t we have them on hand for ourselves? Don’t we do most other things already, anyway?
This year I am encouraging the Sisterhood of Moms to choose YOU.
Make sure you’re ready to face the holidays and 2024 renewed and ready.
Knowing that you have #hookypasses to back you up and remind you that behind a healthy, happy mom is a healthy, happy family!
Print your very own #hookypass, or forward it to your family to make their holiday shopping for you a breeze: PMC Hooky Passes Printable