This holiday season more than most I've already experienced so many times I've failed to meet my own expectations. I miss things I should've put on my calendar, but don't. I get to things at the wrong time because I put it down wrong. I used to hate people like me. I'm a pretty A-Type and people flying by the sit of their pants really annoyed me.

I still try to be mindful of others' time and my own. I try to do everything I sign up for, the reality is I try to do too much. I have to do too much. I fail, a lot.

My kid was very upset this morning because he knocked over the laundry basket in his room. He couldn't get over it. I asked him what was wrong and he said, "I just want to be perfect."

I just want to be perfect. How many times have we all thought this? How many times has it actually been perfect? Sometimes you just have to throw away all of these thoughts of perfection, it's unattainable.

I told him. "Dude, no one is perfect. You remember last night when I showed up late to my own dinner at the house? I messed up big time."

Sometimes it's fine to mess up. Other times it's not as fine, but you repair what you mess it. It's not a big deal. I hope my attempt at doing everything, being everything to him isn't causing him to think he has to be perfect. I know I'm not perfect, as a matter of fact I fuck things up on a daily basis. However, I fix it. Those are small things. I couldn't imagine worrying about small things anymore.

Worry does nothing except make my stomach and brain hurt. I usually don't worry. There are big things that happen that you can't stress about, like your loved ones. Make time for the big things. Don't stress about the small ones. I hope everyone can follow my advice and enjoy the holidays. So I burn my cookies and they fell apart, it was fun making them with my kid. So I bought someone something they already have, they can return it. So my wrapping looks like I'm five, if you don't like what's in it, I'll take it.

Failing makes you realize sometimes those expectations are ridiculous and no one cares about them. It makes you have more realistic expectations, like I just want to hear my dad laugh. I just want to hug my mom. I just want to talk politics with my brother-in-law. I just want to hold my husband's hand. I just want to read to my son.

I just want to say thank you to readers that have picked up a book a wrote. That's a really big fucking thing to me. Join me while we fail together.