Cookies of Time

Tonight, I ate cookies.

Being Diabetic and pregnant at Christmas is like the worst punishment a person with a sweet tooth can have. I watch the fluffy mounds of whipped cream and pumpkin pie float by, salivate at the parade of yummy chocolate squares and crisp shortbread cookies. Pumpernickel bread with its glistening heart of spinach dip calls my name, but then I remember the carbs and I pull my hand back. No stuffing for me!

But then a tiny voice says “Its Christmas.” and I allow myself to be human, and pregnant, and vulnerable to the Season’s delights.

I relaxed as I munched, just for a moment, in the hectic pace that is December. I sat without the constant awareness of a toddler needing me, and didn’t worry about the “To Do” schedule, the grocery list, the laundry mountain, and the crumbs under the kitchen counter. I forgot about the bills, the stain on the carpet, and the unfinished Christmas cards. I threw away the stress of not having my husband’s Christmas gift bought.

“Hey, its Christmas…” I thought, and let the stress go like a big red balloon on a sunny day.

I shared with women who, I realized, all have the same roles and responsibilities as me. They have the same worries about being ready for Christmas like I do. They have the same every day struggles with home and career balance, laundry, and dinner. They have the same unabated love for their children pushing them forward to write the To Do lists that then stress them out. We all sat back, with all this looming over our collective heads, and then collectively forgot about it. We shared stories,  and giggled over funny anecdotes. It was an evening of fellowship that was both soothing and validating.

I realized I needed to let myself have this gift of time, figuratively pushing the guilt of not being at home to help away. I felt it lift from my shoulders, scale off  my back, and fly away.

I leaned forward towards the festive tin in front of me, said  “Hey! Its Christmas!”, and had another cookie.

 

 

 

 

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