Don’t be a dick. At least until the 26th.

Yesterday we went to see this really cool Christmas display with the kids.

And it was located on this side street and parking was kind of crazy.

Really crazy.

Cutthroat, even.

It made getting a spot in the Costco parking lot in December seem like fun.

And as my family was walking back to the car, the spot in front of our car opened up.

And a couple of guys sprinted into the spot and stood in it, reserving the space for the car they had come in which had gone up ahead for some reason.

I heard one guy say, “Where did he go?”

And the other guy said, “I don’t know. He drove up there.”

And then the first guy said, “Why’d he do that?”

And the other guy said, “Because he’s a dick.”

To which I said, “Merry Christmas Guys. Meeeeeerry Christmas.”

And we all chuckled.

And then they probably called me a bitch under their breath as I walked away.

But really, who was being the dick?

This morning I was in the grocery store and it was packed. And I found myself getting really pissed off at people. No one was moving at the speed I needed them to.

Or maybe they were.

Because I had pretty much become those two guys standing in that parking spot.

Everyone was a dick who was in my way.

I took a deep breath.

Merry Christmas, Guys. Meeerry Christmas.

I was turning into the dick.

They had to get that spot.

I had to check everything off of my list.

Why? The Earth would not stop if I didn’t get it all done.

Christmas would not be ruined if I didn’t complete the list.

But it might be ruined if I did. Being a dick would certainly take away from a joyful holiday for my family.

I had to make eight dozen Christmas cookies. They had to be creative. They had to be delicious. They had to be unique.

Wait. No they didn’t. They had to be edible.

So I scratched the fancy, impressive cookies I’d envisioned and I opted for old faithful. Plain old chocolate chip.

And then, I did the unthinkable. I asked my husband to make them and I went to yoga.

I came home, the cookies were made, and I had cleared my head.

Of course, they weren’t all perfect.

My first thought?

You’ll have to make some more yourself.

My next thought?

Don’t be a dick.

This idea of perfection during the holidays can turn us all into dicks.

It doesn’t add to the experience of the holidays. In many cases, it takes away from it.

So in these last few days before Christmas, I have a suggestion.

Slow down.

Take some of those unnecessary items off your list.

What is it you really need to do? Do your kids’ gifts need to be perfectly wrapped and decorated with bows and tags?

I’ve got news for you.

They don’t. Your kids don’t give a shit about presentation. Save yourself a broken back and a few hours.

And if it’s not the wrapping, think about something else.

Do you really need that centerpiece?

Would a gingerbread house from one of those kits be just as much fun for your kids as the ones you are attempting to make from scratch? (YES. And you won’t want to down a bottle of vodka afterward).

If your friends don’t receive your Christmas card until after Christmas, won’t they still open it and appreciate it? (Besides, the twelve days of Christmas start on the 25th. You’re still early).

Erase something off your list.

If it will truly add to the experience of the holidays keep it, but if the only thing it will really add to is your stress level?

Don’t be a dick. Black that one out.

And Merry Christmas Guys. Meeeeerry Christmas.

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