People, I’m not feeling The Spirit.

I keep waiting for The Spirit to overtake me. Have some come to and be struck by the living spirit of Jesus moment, some laying of the hands but I have yet to be moved.

Let’s see. We’re T-minus 12 days till Christmas. I’m going to go with 11 here and not count the actual day, since there’s only 11 remaining shopping days anyway.

I’m not sure if these lack luster holiday vibes are due to being preg and general preg exhaustion and/or general not being able to get into it.

And the thing is, I felt really proud of myself that the other night, I made The BF hang our wreath — correction, our 28″ pine needle swag — on the front door.

Doesn’t that sound kinda porn industry-ish? I don’t think it would be as bad had there not been listed a size. Something about making the 28 inches known … yeah … just sounds bad. And since when is holiday décor swag, anyway?

So the only indication of Christmas in our home lies on the front door. Forget lights. I was motivated on that front for about two hours. Until I watched one of our neighbors haul out the ladder and take an entire afternoon to string lights. Forget that. We don’t have that kind of motivation, or patience around here.

I’m tempted to say, f it, on the tree front except for this thing called pregnancy. Oh, and motherhood. I mean … what kind of mother doesn’t put up a Christmas tree? A crap kind, probably. Or maybe just a really tired, spread too thin one.

Either way, it makes me have thoughts of, shit mother! can’t even put her Christmas tree up! Pathetic!. Higher Self tries to tell me this is not true, but I’m going to succumb on this front.

Only because I’m going to have to do this whole Christmas shit when the little Babe is born and get all into it and create happy holiday memories and I don’t know HOW to do any of that, so I figure I better start getting some practice in. Now.

Maman thinks all of this is very bizarre. She was one of those Mamas who was always on it — you know, theme trees and shit. I find all of this rather remarkable, because I don’t have theme anything running through my veins.

Then there’s TC. Lawdy, People. The man collects Santa Claus’ and Nutcrackers. Collects them! He then deliberates for days on the perfect spot for them. He makes a big deal out of only using the Christmas dishes, the whole nine yards and then some. I make fun of him for this, but that’s only to cover my own feelings of inadequacy, which I will always readily admit.

I keep waiting for TC to show up in my living room, armed with a few boxes of holiday cheer and go to town. I’ve been waiting for approximately 14 days for that to happen, I think I need to let go of that hope now.

I guess what this non-existent holiday state of mine highlights and is making me try to figure out, are my own pre-conceived notions and ideas of what it means to be a parent.

I had never thought about any of things before. That’s what it’s like, in my mind. I have pre-preg me and preg me and I can’t help but feel like there’s things I’m just automatically supposed to do now or worse, want to do but I don’t want to do any of them!

Here I am, again, at having to embrace who I am and accept that. So I don’t give a shit about Christmas decorations. That’s not the end of the world, right?

That doesn’t mean I’m already failing at Motherhood.

I’ve got to stop dropping the “ideas” and go with me … just being … me.