Wow. Perfect.

I don't know what it is about the Christmas season that inspires in moms the sudden desire to do absolutely everything, immediately, and perfectly.
Or is it just me?
Lately I feel like I've been drowning in self inflicted ideas and projects that never seem to end. Some of it was genuinely Christmas related, but most were other, mostly unimportant things that I decide to do and then I have to do it right away and then I hate myself the whole time because it's just causing me stress.
If you've driven by our house this winter, you've probably seen our Grinch outside. He was an idea I had when I was about 2 months pregnant with Dayen. I insisted one day that I had to get the wood to make him right now. We didn't even have a truck, but we live about a block away from the hardware store, so we walked over and carried a giant piece of plywood back. It took over half the living room, but that didn't matter, because I was going to make it that day and then we would have a cute new decoration for Christmas.
That was in October. I didn't finish it until May. It actually sat in our house, completely untouched, for months because after one attempt I realize how hard it was to sketch a gigantic grinch on a piece of plywood, and I gave up.
My point being, ever since then, when I get a grand idea like that Caleb is usually good to remind me about the Grinch and make me wait to see if it's something I actually want to do, or something my insane brain thinks I want to do.
But this year he's apparently let me go rogue because I've been spending a lot of time working on a lot of Grinch-like projects. They don't take up as much space in my home, but they take up space in my brain. I work like a crazy person, trying to get an insane amount of things done in a shockingly small amount of time. Even when I succeed, even when I scratch everything off my to-do list for the day, I look around and realize: no one cares. I am the only one doing this to myself.
Yesterday, after a particularly rough afternoon of stupid projects that refused to cooperate, I think I got a fresh batch of pregnancy hormones and I ended up breaking down in tears in the middle of the kitchen. My sweet husband immediately came to my side to comfort me, and my shocked little boy tried to hug me and laugh and make me feel better. When Dayen saw that I was still sad, he suddenly realized that his dad must be who was making his mom cry! So gently but firmly, he pushed Caleb's legs until he had moved him as far across the room as he could go. Then he returned to my side to hug me again, like, "There you go mom! I got rid of him for you!" That lightened the mood and made both of us laugh.
Then today of course I forgot every lesson I've ever learned in my life, and in the hour before church I felt the weight of everything slowly dragging me down. By the time we sat down in sacrament meeting, I was fighting back tears again. I'll be honest, I was having a little pity party thinking how hard it is to be me. Everyone else in the world must actually relax once in awhile, but me? All I do is work, or work on things I don't even care about. And the part that was really dragging me down is that I feel like I'm failing at everything I do.
Finally, not even realizing I was upset, Dayen crawled into my lap. He had a bag of Cheerios he was eating at lightning speed, and he sighed contentedly and said, "Wow. Perfect."
Caleb asked him, "What's perfect?"
He replied, "A perfect mom hug!"
We both laughed, and I hugged him a little harder. It really hit me: that was perfect for him. Not a perfectly clean house. Not all his hand-picked presents wrapped under the tree. Not even a mom who was sweet and nice and patient all the time. Just sitting in church, on his mom's lap with a snack was perfect for him.
So why am I making this so hard?
Why am I putting so much pressure on myself to do everything, all the time?
Why do I let it drive me up the wall to have a sink full of dishes, or some unknown food stain on the stove?
Why do I let Facebook articles tell me I'm failing at every corner as a parent?
He's obviously doing OK. More than OK. Sometimes, he's even perfect.
So my Christmas gift to myself, and all the other moms out there who are crying in the kitchen about something that didn't go perfect, is to just try and let go. Try and see things through your child's eyes. If you're so worried about everything all the time, you're probably doing great. Now put down the hot glue gun and bottle of toilet cleaner, and take a break! All the Grinches get finished eventually.