Finally, after 30+ years of child-rearing, I've learned that you must complete every task possible before the children are out of school for the holidays. This year I actually succeeded. But some things can't be done ahead of time. That's where it all falls apart.
Last night I found it necessary to sleep on the floor between my 12-year-old granddaughter's bedroom and the Big Bad World. (If you don't know what I mean, you've never raised an adolescent child. Or you've been very, very lucky.) Being a menopausal woman with an 52-year-old body which includes a still-recuperating ankle, I didn't find the floor a restful place to spend the night. And today I'm cranky. Or more accurately, I'm a shrieking lunatic who has a lot to get done. Having children underfoot all day (especially the one who kept me up last night and is still trying to push all my buttons) isn't helping me accomplish anything.
God sent His son to earth to save my weary soul. As I prepare to celebrate His birth, let me not forget that.