Thanksgiving letter to myself.

Last year, I was prepared to keep my expectations nice and low. During Thanksgiving, I was about 100 months pregnant. We love to host the meal at our home and I did not want to give it up. However, I had every good excuse for things not being completely up to snuff, (although, I'm pretty sure they were anyway.) Somehow Bob's slave labor we made due. Long before the occasion, I knew my abilities were compromised by all things gloriously big belly related. There would be only so much I could do. It would just have to be what it was. What was important was the family togetherness and celebration of all we have to be thankful for, not my spit-shined spotless floor.

This year, I was caught completely off guard.

And, let me tell you honestly, it has not been pretty. I have been a real bear. Oh the frustrations. Those frustrating frustrations. The continuous interruptions, the noises and messes, as I am trying to get some things done around here. I have allowed myself to get all in a twist. By twist, I mean fury and guilt cycle leaving me depleted and defeated, with no lack of self-pity, longing for chocolate, hot bathtubs full of bubbles, and copious amounts of wine. The kids have not been out of sorts. They have been normal, child-like children. It is all me. I have yelled, and cried, complained to my husband, and other things I will not admit in type but if you are a mother of a few little whippersnappers you can imagine. If you can not imagine, you are either:
a) not a mom to people under the age of 4
b) a lady with a nanny
c) a liar
d) a much better mother than I
e) going someplace else on Thursday

Judge me if you must. Especially if your answer is d. I don't mind.

I finally figured something out during an apology conversation with my sweet daughter while basking in all her humbling forgiveness and grace toward me.
Hello? Knock, knock, knock? Tisha? Are you there?

Dear self,
You have put the things of Thanksgiving before the people you have to be most thankful for. You have elevated a proper home, a tidy place, freshly baked pies, the golden brown bird, and the picture-perfect ideal of what the right kind of hostess should be over your family. You have esteemed highly valuable what is temporal and viewed your treasured gifts as hindrances, nuisances, and obstacles to your holiday goals. Thanksgiving would mean nearly nothing to you without those little ones you hold dear. Stop treating them like annoyances and wake up to smell reality. They are only yours for this vanishing window of time. Let the dusting go if you have to. Buy some pies if it will save your sanity. Give your guests an honest to goodness image of a cheerful giver, in a home full of grace and flaws and quit worrying about appearances and perfection. Focus on being a follower of Jesus, a lover of people, a gracious host and open up your home as a haven of warmth and gentleness, rather than forced, stress induced, cleanliness. Be truly thankful for what is yours. Your are rich with abundance and favor. One day you will be all alone in your kitchen making pies while wishing you hadn't treated your blessings like burdens. If you continue on this course, it will be a shame and you will experience regret. Take a break from the work to sing and dance with the ones you love most while they are here to cut a rug with you. They are the only people on earth willing to overlook the sound of your voice and your dorky dance moves. Those kids are your prized joy, and for a while, you are theirs. Don't ever forget that and don't beat yourself up either. It is not easy being a mom.
Happy Thanksgiving, friend.

Lovingly,
Tisha