The other day I saw a woman trying to wrestle a bouquet of balloons into her car. The wind was gusting and the balloons were bouncing and the woman was struggling and I had an epiphany: this is an exact allegory of my life as the year ended.
I had a huge bouquet of balloons, each bopping me furiously about the head as I attempted to stuff them into a confined space. There was the balloon labeled “work,” which was smacking up against “errands,” which was smacking up against “commitments,” which was attacking “family,” which was competing with “holidays,” which was clobbering “sleep,” which was punching “anything else that I need to do and don’t have time for.” They were gaily colored, and festive and all, but they were thiiiiss close to being let go, to fly up into the sky.
Part of the problem is the holiday season, when you add “finding the perfect gifts,” “wrapping them beautifully” and “scheduling times to deliver them to the people you know and love” to all the other everyday errands and chores you have to complete. There are meals to plan and shop for, and they usually involve 30 more steps than you’d usually do when preparing food, so there’s that. And you have to be cheerful.
Work is school, which is dealing with small humans excited beyond reason that there will be presents and Santa and presents and trees and presents and cookies and presents and candy and presents. There are approximately 400 art projects to complete in December – several involving glitter – and if I never hear “Jingle Bells” again it will be too soon.
The weather was super helpful, too – did you notice we had temperatures below 40 for the last few weeks? And some drizzles? And lots of wind? Yay! Super duper yay! (That was full on sarcasm, by the way.) Oh, and bonus: this is the time of year to share, which preschoolers only willingly do with germs. (Q: “What did you get for Christmas?” A: Bronchitis.)
In the last few weeks I had a few meetings to attend for my union. Thomas comes with me when I can’t get someone to hang out with him, so he feels comfortable chiming in when we do things like site reports or “good of the order.” (He shared a long involved tale about how he wants to go to the Mariana Trench … not sure how that applies to the union, but okay.) I became the vice president, which will mean more meetings, but I’m sure Thomas will have all kinds of things to share, so we’re good, right?
This year we had to kind of wrangle time around our daughter’s work schedule. She missed one get-together entirely, and came in at the very end of another. She worked Christmas morning from 6 to 10, preparing coffee for very happy customers who tipped really, really well, but it was strange to open stockings and gifts without her. (When she got home she got to open her stocking and we exchanged our gifts to one another, so we spun it as two Christmas mornings … but changes and getting older: two big balloons bopping us all.
It occurs to me that in the upcoming year I have a few choices: I can give in to the balloon beating, I can let some of the balloons go, or I can grasp the string closer to the balloon. I hate giving in. Letting go won’t work – they all have value. The only choice that makes sense is to grasp them differently.
The holidays are pretty much over, so there’s that one solved. I have a break from work, so I can catch my breath there. That should help with sleep, and family, too. That break allows me some time to do some things that count as “me time,” which rejuvenates me, too. Commitments and errands never really end, but I can make sure I plan efficiently and that should keep the stress to a dull roar. The best part about re-grasping the balloon bouquet is now I get to enjoy them.
Happy New Year. May 2018 bring you beautiful balloon bouquets and no bopping!
Juliana LeRoy wears many hats, including wife, mother, paraeducator and writer. She can be spotted around Windsor gathering material, or reached at ml****@so***.net.
