I promised myself that I would not let this season get the best of me. I would not allow excessive expectations drain the joy from the holidays. How am I doing? Not so good. Well, it is true that I'm not pushing myself to be the perfect mom and hostess this season. But I must admit, it's killing me on the inside. A busy work schedule and a hectic calendar for my daughter have combined to make Christmas 2009 one to remember for what I haven't accomplished, and might never get done. Here's where it stands.

About half of my Christmas cards are mailed. The others are strewn across the dining room table, along with address books, scraps of paper with assorted other addresses, and books of stamps. The outside decorations are up, though I'm still missing one light for a downstairs window. I finally got a wreath. And then actually put it on the door. The Christmas tree is in the stand, and in the living room. Not a single strand of lights nor an ornament hangs from its branches. It is naked, or at least semi-naked: It is wearing a skirt. I have some of the presents wrapped, but only about half of the shopping done. Not one Christmas cookie has been pulled from the oven.

Somehow, I still picture myself sitting at a clean kitchen counter dressed in designer clothes and wearing an apron to sprinkle red and green sugar on cutout cookies as I listen to Bing Crosby sing "White Christmas'' as a twinkling tree blinks its lights on stacks of presents that were purchased and wrapped months ago by the organized woman I don't think I'll ever be. As the song goes, "If only in my dreams...''