I am so busy right now. Busy, but oddly enough, not stressed. Thanksgiving is less than a week away. And I’ve got a lot to do. A lot.  And usually I am running around with a crazed look in my eye, knowing full well that I will never get done all I want to do.  And then I take it out on those around me.

It’s my own fault. I have absolutely nobody to blame but myself. I am full of unrealistic expectations about what I can accomplish in the time I have. I get ideas in my head about things being just so and I am unable to let them go.  Unable.

The fear of imperfection drives me.

Drives me crazy, that is.

I am hosting 30 people for Thanksgiving this year. I have a big crowd every year, but I think this is one of my biggest. I don’t mind. I love being home on holidays, sharing my house with family. It’s a lot of work but it’s worth it.  Even years when I have been stressed and crazed and disorganized, I always knew that the end result would be worth it.

I look forward to the moment around 4:00pm next Thursday when I am able to sit down with my plate of food, heavy with dressing and pretty light on everything else.

Strangely enough, I am even looking forward to the preparation this year. I began on Monday, cleaning and tidying and getting things company ready. I have a plan and a checklist and for the first time, I actually felt a little bit in control and like I might not be yelling at my husband to mop the bathroom floor 15 minutes before the guests arrive.

I think I’m doing pretty well this year.

I mean, I’m still planning to repaint my kitchen on Saturday, so there is that, and it could blow the whole calm, checklist-in-hand, I’m-in-control, feeling I have now right out of the water. But mostly? I’m feeling happy.

Usually, I dread doing my chores.  They always seem like a waste of time to me.  Because the second I mop the kitchen floor, a child will walk in with wet shoes.  The moment I turn the vacuum off after getting up every last dog hair from my family room floor, a dog will walk in the room and shake.  If I take the time to use wood cleaner on my kitchen chairs and stools, someone will spill their sticky drink.  It never fails.  I am so often frustrated by the fact that I always seem to be running and yet never really going anywhere. 

I see in my mind how my house should be, but I have trouble keeping it up day after day.  And once I get lazy and let one thing go, well, I tend to let everything go.  Because I’m kind of an all or nothing type of girl.

I have been praying, believe it or not, for some peace and order on the old home front.

And as I was going about my chores this week, which even included taking all of our bedding to the laundromat to be washed, for the first time I actually felt like the work I was doing was a privilege. I don’t know why, I just felt so happy to be doing it. I fell into bed last night and my mind was racing because I had accomplished so much, felt so proud of myself, and could actually see progress.

(And what deep cleaning our bedrooms and washing every blanket and comforter we own at the laundromat has to do with Thanksgiving prep, well, I have no idea.)

((But I tend to be a bit obsessive.))

(((And also, I have a problem with biting off more than I can chew.)))

((((And my prioritizing skills have been questioned on more than one occasion, too.))))

(((((At least I can offer my guests a clean bed to nap on should the need arise.)))))

I feel though, that the tide is turning.  I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but I’m not looking at my home this week or the the things I need to do with the least bit of dread.  None.  I’m feeling excited to see what will be, what I can do for my home, my family. 

Last night I actually couldn’t fall asleep because I was basking in all I’d accomplished and actually looking forward to doing more.

I am blessing my family with my mad homekeeping skilz.

And this Thanksgiving, for the first time, I am thankful that I have the honor.