I need to see a therapist, if for no other reason (and really, what other reason could there be?) than to find out why I am a classic procrastinator. I know — I’ve heard schpeels on NPR about how it’s all based on how self-centered a person you are. The more you procrastinate, the more you gaze at your navel. It’s all about me, right? Right ? Did I just hear the collective deafening silence of The Internets? So, yeah, I procrastinate. To make it a double-whammy come December, at the same time — I believe I’ve mentioned before — I’m on the thrifty side . These two personality traits combine a few times a year, and when they do, it’s not unlike baking soda and vinegar. An explosion of anxiety occurs, and I bring down into my miry pit four (or more) innocent victims, making them wonder whatever happened to all the good cheer that’s supposed to be happening right now. It always starts with good intentions, and a crystal-clear moment when I think, “Hey – I can make that !” And I get excited, and commence with the daydreaming about me and my two older children making holiday memories by working together, peacefully, laughingly , as tiny little hands help Mommy with The Project . So then, my kindergartener will go into school and hand her teachers their gifts, and will say, “ Yes, I helped my Mommy make it .” And the teachers will ooh and aah, and lift me onto their shoulders, carry me down the hallway of the school, and before a ceremony of lavish proportions, crown me School Mom of the Year. Wait — did I just write that? I mean, yes , of course. We all want people to like the gifts we give. But this whole homemade thing — it’s really about an obsession with not spending money on things I can make (by the way — if I EVER on this website type the phrase, “I’m thinking about recovering a piece of furniture,” then please, for the love of sanity, call the IPD and warn them of a potential incident that could effect the public good. Tell them to put out an APB for a crazed woman running down the streets of Broad Ripple waving a staple gun and flinging upholstery tacks at innocent bystanders). See, when I saw this post
