christmas survivor tells her tale

did:
write haiku, make prints, deliver cards, play 2 shows, cook insane amount of food, buy, wrap, and deliver 5 sets of gifts, finish S's fridge, fill it with wooden and cardboard food, overdraw the checking account, get paid, make un-returned phone calls to elusive father in law, play masses, fill stockings, eat food, clean up, sort toys, clothes and books to make room for the new stuff, make more food, have the usual guilt attack that comes along with the post-christmas lull ("Isn't there something I should be doing right now?"), realize I have not posted for WEEKS...

did not:
piss of my in-laws, poison anyone with underdone turkey, forget to get anyone from the airport, get called away to a birth, fold the laundry (it is in a pile in the basement closet. AHA! That's what I should be doing!) make too big a deal about Santa, prohibit my poor child from eating any sweets, edit my profoundly lame book review which will probably be going to print any day now with my unfortunate name right on it.

what's up:
J and I are in the process of watching the pirates of the caribbean movies (I don't know why so don't ask), I am reading Middlesex- an unexpected gift from my mother-in-law - and listening to a weird mix from a friend at work, we're contemplating getting a real bed for our son. (J is convinced that it's vaguely neglectful to let him sleep on a futon. ) We're working on the five year plan for community records - which, by the by, is taking off like crazy. So crazy that J is thinking seriously about quitting his only other remaining job.
Perhaps as a result of all of the above, I have been having wild and very involved dreams. They play out like full-on action movies. I wake up with the entire plot fresh in my mind. I can even remember my costumes, the set (it's always a set), and - oddly - the view from the audience. Clearly, I have some sorting to do that has nothing to do with my jammed-up closets. I think that part of my uneasy post-holiday lull is brought on by the fact that I put off dealing with stuff by staying really busy. When I finally come to a full stop, it all rushes at me with sickening force. Plus, I'm always preoccupied with death at Christmas (isn't everyone?) At almost every yearly milestone (birthdays and christmas and anniversaries) I think about the one where I'll be dead. Nice, hunh. And when I'm done with that I worry about the fact that this year seems warmer than the last and will my grandkids get to sled at all, and....
Somebody needs a little fresh air.
Or a birth. Nothing like the beginning of life to put things into perspective, restore my faith in humanity and revive hope.
Hey! Christmas...
the baby...
I GET IT!