Here’s the thing with me and the holidays. I adore my family and the holidays. But I tend to get a little frazzled. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy getting together with family and friends, decorating the tree, shopping for cute gift wrapping, going to cookie exchange parties and even putting jingle bells on my puppy. I love snowball fights with my kids and racing inside for hot cocoa with mounds of whipped cream. (Just like the hot chocolate Mr. Flanders makes for Bart in the Simpson’s Movie. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s a must-see scene.)  I have the best of intentions when it comes to thinking about Christmas shopping. I start a list in my head and get all excited. I write down ideas. I daydream about everyone opening their gifts with huge smiles on their faces. Like something out of a PB catalog, but there are real people in my family room, not just models hanging stockings with first names like Collins and Walker stitched on. It’s not that I hate shopping. Give me a couple hours in a downtown department store with girlfriends and I can literally shop until I drop. OK, so a few hours will go by and I’m shaking because I need some food (and maybe chocolate Santas and Green tea). We’ll stop, eat and shop again. But the real problem renders its ugly head the moment I start second guessing myself with my choices.

Do these inner holiday-shopping thoughts sound familiar?

“Do I want to buy this for ME or her?”

“She’ll never find out that I got one for myself too. Or will she? Oh crap.”

“Didn’t I buy this last year?’

“Is this too much? or not enough?”

“Will he REALLY like this, or will he give me THAT look when he opens it?”

“Come on, you can DO this. Don’t buy a gift card. Don’t buy a gift card.”

“Maybe he would appreciate a gift card?”

Enough already! Why can’t we host a White Elephant gift exchange like I do with my girlfriends where we literally pick items from around the house (or re-gift lame gifts) and swap them over wine and cheese? We giggle the night away. I received booty enhancer pads one year (no idea who gave them to my friend first) and almost died laughing.  I honestly enjoy it. I would carry on this tradition in our home, but it obviously wouldn’t work when the kids are waiting for Santa to come to town with real gifts. We do Secret Santa gift exchanges on both sides of our family, but there are still people that I give gifts to every year, no matter what. And they are the ones that are the hardest to buy for! I just want them to know I care – even if what I found at the mall (on a full bladder) is so going in the back of their closet this time next year.

I’ll calm down. After a few hot chocolates, I’ll pull myself together and focus. I can always do most of my holiday shopping online. Thankfully, I do realize it’s the thought that counts. Even if I accidentally throw a couple items in my size in the online shopping cart, it IS the thought that counts. 😉

This Thanksgiving, all I could focus on was hosting a dinner for 14 people that would not turn out like something from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. (Featuring a turkey so dry, it would implode on itself.) My brother, his wife and their three adorable boys flew in from Denver for the big day, and our kids had a non-stop-week-with-cousins extended slumber party.  I prepared all the sides and desserts in the days before so that everything would go off without a hitch.

A half hour before everyone arrived, I race upstairs to put on a cute black skirt and under eye concealer to mask the fact that I only had four hours of sleep and a slight hangover. I decided to slap on Spanx too because I was feeling a little flabby and bloated. I pulled the bird out of the oven and I’m happy to say it was so beautiful, so juicy, so moist, I wanted to dress the bird in a tuxedo and show it off in a parade. But we ended up carving it down and dove into it and some pretty tasty sides. All of the sides. (Yes, I had a little bit of everything on my plate.) Fifteen minutes into dinner, I realize I can hardly breathe. I take a sip of my drink, thinking it’s just my imagination. But I can’t ignore the pressure. The Spanx have practically cut off my circulation. Like a rubber band on a balloon, the Spanx did nothing more than push my belly flab from one area to another. And my slightly-too-small skirt is smack in the middle. There is such an obvious line where the Spanx ends and my upper belly begins, if I burped into the candle and cranberries centerpiece I had worked so hard on, I might set the table on fire. I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, trying desperately to remove the apparatus that is causing this dinner-time dilemma. I successfully slide the Spanx off of my belly, down my legs and over my boots, but realize I can’t leave the bathroom without them in my hands. I sneak out, hiding them behind my back. “Babe, is everything OK?” my husband asks. “Yes, everything’s just fine.” I put on a fake smile, run to the family room and shove the Spanx in the front closet.

Finally, I find my way back to my seat. I sit down and feel a sense of release. Literally.  As if a mountain of bloat has been freed from under my skirt. My muffin top has found its way back to where it belongs. Behind the table cloth. And so I did what any sane host would do at this point. Serve pie, say yes to seconds and enjoy the day Spanx-less with my wonderful family.

Happy Thanksgiving! Whether you’re hosting an army this Thursday or bringing a store-bought pie to a small gathering, I hope you have a fabulous holiday! Because It’s Thanksgiving week, I wanted to do what we in the mom-blogosphere refer to as a “Thankful Thursday” post where we list a few things we’re thankful for in our lives.

I have family coming into town in a matter of hours, and for whatever reason, when relatives visit, I tend to get a little neurotic about making sure everything in my house looks better than it usually does. For example, I just re-vacuumed the entire house, only to have my dog and my kids track in more leaves behind me. I feel sorry for my husband because when he sees me like this, it drives him crazy, which makes me even more neurotic. At this point, it is what it is. Three nephews under 10 + my kids + my dog + tons of other relatives= a zoo by the time I pull the (please-be-juicy-and-fabulous) turkey out of the oven.

I’m praying for a pleasant visit filled with happy, healthy kids & adults, blurred vision for those passing any unkempt corners and a dog that doesn’t jump or hump anyone until Saturday.

And I digress. There are so many things to be thankful for this year!

#1 I’m thankful for my family. I’m grateful for my husband who makes me laugh every day and actually enjoys folding his own laundry.

#2 I’m thankful for my third grader and sixth grader. And I’m SO relieved that I don’t have to go through sixth grade again. Although I had a lot of friends, I had no idea at the time that I was pretty much the female version of Farmer Ted in the movie 16 Candles.

#3 I’m thankful that I did most of my food shopping ahead of time so that I don’t have to wait in the check out line with four elderly couples who brought a shoebox full of expired coupons.

#4 I’m thankful for my friends who even with a single text or email, have the power to transform my mood and make me laugh so hard, I often need to run to the little girls’ room.

#5 I’m thankful for my mom and dad. They are wonderful people who raised me to be a caring individual and I’m happy they will be celebrating Turkey Day in Florida or else I would be even more neurotic trying to make everything perfect for their visit. 😉

#6 I’m thankful for online shopping. I don’t have the patience to shop the Black Friday deals in person this year. Going to the grand opening of Nordstrom Rack with friends was awesome, but after 40, crowds are even more annoying. Plus I plan to eat enough food on Thursday to erase any progress I’ve been making with Pilates and jogging, so I’ll need to trot off my turkey (and multiple servings of pies, veggies, potatoes, casseroles, rolls, cranberry sauce and sandwiches) that day.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I’m thankful for many things. But on this particularly rainy day, I’m thankful that I was able to sneak in a Jane Fonda-style workout before everyone else wakes up. It didn’t start out this way. I got up, went downstairs, stuck my toes outside and could tell it was too rainy to go for a jog with my dog. My dog looked at me like I had just taken away his girlfriend. (Which just so happens to be the shag rug bean bag chair we have in the basement.) I know, I know, but my dog is very fond of this piece of furniture right now. He once started “going to town” when my kids were around and I was mortified. “Mom, what’s he doing?” my daughter asked. “Dancing honey. He’s just dancing,” I said, as I yanked the bean bag from under him. See, the dog smells up the house something awful when he’s wet. It’s not the rain as much as the puddle-jumping, splashing and rolling in the mud that gets me. It doesn’t matter if I dry him off with a towel and a hair dryer, the house still smells like an Old Folks Home in August.

And I digress.  Although I wanted to just take a shower and get going with my day, (and shove down a Cinnamon Roll) I knew I needed a work out so I resorted to doing what I do best on rainy days when I don’t have time to hit the gym. Working out in the basement. Yes, I feel like a character in a horror film at first, heading down the stairs in the pitch black, waiting for the Haddington crazed man to get me. It may be 5:50 a.m., but it feels like midnight on Halloween. Then I crank on all the lights, some music (or an upbeat, non-horror show like “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” on Netflix) and start doing exercises and having my own private Jane Fonda “feel the burn” party. The best part is, it’s much too early and way too dark for anyone to see my 1980’s oh-help-me-if-they-come-back-in-style headband, off-the-shoulder-because-it-was-so-on-sale-and-now-it’s-too-big t-shirt and running shorts. Only my dog, who happens to be shooting me a look of both guilt and embarrassment, can see me. So it’s all OK now. I’m waking up. I’m moving. I’m burning calories. I’m doing leg lifts. And I’m hanging out with my dog. By this time, he has plopped himself on the floor, looking up at me every now and then just to make sure I’m aware that he’s still horrified and disappointed. He closes his eyes and takes a nap. Lots of jogging, arms lifts here and leg lifts there, and I’m done. Would you look at that, puppy? Mom was able to sneak in a 30-minute workout! And I still have time for a shower before anyone else gets up. It’s little things like this (and the fact that only my dog has seen me in my “Oh-What-A-Feelin’-Flash-Dance” ensemble) that makes this mom happy.

In honor of Veterans Day, I’m doing something this week that I rarely do ­­– observing a moment of silence. Taking some quiet time in their honor. I know it’s hard to imagine, but it’s for something close to my heart. My grandfather fought in two wars and survived Pearl Harbor. He was an amazing man and went through more than anyone in our family could ever comprehend. As a kid, you hear war stories from your grandfather and then jump back on your Huffy, because it’s too much to take in. Can you imagine trying to tell your children today? When you really stop and think about what veterans go through, it’s mind-boggling. And not only their sacrifices, but the emotional roller coaster endured by their mothers. Can you imagine sending a child off to war? Your own child? Our mother’s mothers, our grandmother’s mothers and even our grandmother’s grandmothers went through so much, it’s overwhelming.

I hope you can take a moment to reflect on those in your life who have served and thank them in your own way this week. Whether it’s buying one of those little red flowers from the sweet man in uniform behind the card table at the grocery store, reading a book to your kids, watching a documentary or even taking a road trip and visiting a monument. No matter what you do, take some time in their honor.

While watching all the election coverage over the past few months, something hit me. I’m not going to get into the particulars of political issues or who won this race and who lost that one. (I congratulate all the candidates. After all, it’s not polite to talk politics at the dinner table, girls! That’s what the networks are for.) But I made a mom-to-mom observation that I had to share. After all was said, spent and done, I realize that we as moms have something ridiculously obvious in common with political candidates. Even the ones with chest hair and receding hairlines. These candidates have experienced a level of sleep deprivation over the past several months that only a mother can understand. (Those of you who had babies that slept through the night since birth, please, it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good mom, but kindly leave the room.) These candidates spent countless months preparing for the election just as we prepared for the birth of our babies. Whether it’s violent morning sickness (in office trash cans) or negative ad campaigns that force people you thought were your friends to turn on you, we endured. Lying awake night after night, preparing for the due date. (Or Election Day.) Getting rest in between ugly debates and painful trimesters, we endured. Knowing that win or lose, the day would come. Regardless of how long the labor or campaigning, there would be an end result.

As a new mother, when I woke to a crying baby at 1:30 a.m. and 4 a.m. and had to roll into the office the next day, I felt like I had been hit by a George Foreman Grill by the time the alarm clock went off. (I soon realized there was no need for an alarm clock. I had the real thing!) I had to eat enough carbs to feed a family of five and drink three cups of tea just to get through lunch time. Imagine doing a campaign speech on three hours of sleep? And if you made a mistake, it would be recorded live and played over and over for hundreds, sometimes millions of people to see? Running to the office on four hours of sleep was a norm, so Ibuprofen and tea were my BFFs. I can only imagine how much coffee and tea the candidates consumed just to keep going every day.

In the days following the 2012 Election, I hope all the candidates, their volunteers and families get some much needed rest. (Before moving on with their lives.) Just as you relished the time a relative offered to visit so you could hide in your room, hug your pillow and hand over the baby (and baby bottle) for a few precious hours of mommy time. (Glorious mommy sanity.) Yes, win or lose, giggle or gurgle, there is nothing more sacred than sleep!