A Story About A Cup

My husband nailed it last night when he looked me square in the eye and said, “…we all know how you feel about traditions.”

Let me back up.  And perhaps attempt a bit of transparency.

We were sitting at a restaurant discussing how Red Cups had come out and I hadn’t had one yet.  It seemed a crime to let such a joyous day go by without celebrating appropriately, so I had been insisting that we stop on the way home and get them.  The only problem was, we had eaten too much (thank you, Old Spaghetti Factory) and were really too full to enjoy coffee.  But you know me, at least my husband does; I was hell-bent on forcing one down.  I mean really…RED CUP DAY.

After we finished our conversation and began driving home, I started thinking about traditions and my general response to them.  Basically, my tendency is to go completely overboard.   Think Clark Griswold.  I love the holidays and my family and my traditions so much that I tend to not cut myself any slack and build up unrealistic expectations.  You know, like planning to force down a latte as I was already blissfully floating in carb heaven.

Perhaps it’s the control freak in me; I really do like to be in charge.  

Maybe it’s the OCD lady in me; I have to have everything in perfect order at all times and being punctual with traditions should be no different.  

It might be the fact that ever since my eldest moved out last month I am continuously grasping at normalcy, hoping that it will fill the void that he left.  

Yes, I think it’s all of those things.  And one more:  at times I feel so very lonely.  While I am so blessed with the best husband and sons a woman could ask for, and a pretty fantastic in-law family, my family has dwindled down to just my parents.  Really, that’s it.  Technically I am blood related to a few other people out there, but no one who I spend time with or is dear to me.  And for a person who was once up to her eyeballs in traditions and activities with her family, the realization that when my parents are gone, I will have no one left, well, it’s a little too much to take sometimes.  Especially during the holiday season.  I think that’s a big part of why I hold so firmly to whatever familiarity remains.  So while getting a Red Cup on November 1^st really wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of life, it was a significant marker of the beginning of a season of traditions.  First you get the Red Cup, and then you do this, and then you do this…..  

I guess I need to learn to strike a better balance; I should enjoy the routine and the celebrations without driving myself nuts and plaguing myself with guilt if it all doesn’t work out perfectly.  Something to work on. 

Did we stop at Starbucks on the way home last night?  Nope.  But this morning, the love of my life rolled me out of bed, told me to get dressed, and took me for coffee.  Did I enjoy my Red Cup more this morning than I would have last night?  Absolutely.  

I learned, or at least began to learn, that life goes on.  I didn’t fail at anything; I just adjusted the time-table.