Holiday Insanity

I love my friends. I have a wonderfully diverse group of people in my life. But sometimes...dare I admit it...I'm a teensy bit envious of them. This time of year particularly raises my hackles, just a smidge, mind you. And, I'm not mad at them. I just get frustrated because I am quite certain I am missing a very important Martha Stewart-esque gene. Can I get an "Amen"? (Please don't make me beg. I really need to know I am not alone.)

Several of my friends create mini-wonderlands in their homes and BAKE...for hours...on purpose! Personally, all I can think about is how much of a mess I would have to clean up. (Although, flour all over the floors and countertops could be explained away as a "snow" display.) Not to mention, I would never be able to actually freeze anything and save it for friends. If my kids didn't immediately gobble them up, I guarantee I would be giving them a cookie every time they whined about something. (I REALLY loathe whining.)

At moments like these, I start searching inwardly for someone from my childhood to blame. Sadly (?), I'm coming up blank. Like most daughters, I almost wish I could blame my mom. But, she tried. She kept a beautiful home, decorated seasonally, and is a very good cook. She tells me when I was 3, she let me choose my bedroom decor. My choice was a beautiful yellow gingham and a white shag carpet. Her friends were aghast. A white shag carpet? For a 3 year old? She had no worries. Apparently, I was born a neat freak of sorts. I would not let anyone come in my room with shoes on. I also liked to cook and help her clean. My husband would be shocked to know I had it in me at one time to do these things.

Then...I went to school. After my first preschool experience, I quit helping my mother and had no interest in cooking. My mother says my attitude communicated I had discovered more to life than cooking and cleaning. As a teenager, I burned a bisquit in the microwave and could make one dish; meatloaf.

I have since learned to cook, but mostly because my family has to eat. And I do occasionally clean the house, if I trip too many times between the kitchen and my bedroom. I'll even do laundry because I've heard nothing says "I love you" like clean underwear. But other than a from-scratch Boston cream pie for my husband's first Father's Day, I don't bake. I can't even say I really like putting up the Christmas decorations. I love the look when it's done, but...

So, there...I've finally admitted it. I just don't get it and so I envy those gifted friends. I think I would like to understand. But, I'm not really sure I want to add that insanity to my life.