This Is Fine: There Is No “We’ll Circle Back in 2026”

It’s 6:47 a.m. on a Tuesday in December. I’m on my third email about a motion deadline while simultaneously explaining to my seven-year-old why yes, he does have to wear the elf sweatshirt today even though “it’s hot and not even Christmas.” Meanwhile, my phone is ringing with the client who needs an answer yesterday and I’m getting messages about three deadlines that the system apparently forgot about? This is fine.

There is a very specific kind of chaos that only exists in December. It’s not the cute kind. It’s not the Hallmark kind. It’s the kind where you’re simultaneously:

• A litigation partner making decisions that affect real people, real outcomes, and real reputations
• A COO trying to close out a year, plan the next one, and keep a growing firm from wobbling
• A mom of three kids under ten who all need something — emotionally, logistically, right now

And apparently this year, the universe decided to remove the one thing December usually gives leaders: “We’ll circle back to this in January.” No. We won’t. The court set a scheduling deadline for the day after Christmas so, if this is getting settled, it’s getting settled now. An emergency hearing in another state. A key employee having a breakdown needs support today, not next quarter. The client facing a December mediation needs the witness prep that should have started in October but didn’t. The system that’s been limping along all year is about to break under holiday volume and growth. There is no circling. There is only now.

The Litigation Brain Never Turns Off

Here’s the thing about being a litigation partner that people don’t see: You’re never actually “done” for the day. You’re thinking about strategy in the shower. You’re replaying deposition answers while wrapping gifts. You’re weighing the risk of a motion while driving to basketball practice. And every decision has weight. If you miss something, delay something, or misjudge something — it’s not an inconvenience. It’s a consequence. December doesn’t care about that. Deadlines don’t care that your kid’s school spirit week has eight separate themed days and somehow all of them require a last-minute trip to Target.

COO Brain Is Just Triage With Better Vocabulary

Being a COO in December means someone is crying in your office (or on Zoom) at least once a week. Someone just quit. Someone else needs a chunk of time off next year. Someone else needs approval for something that should have been handled in October but here we are. You’re onboarding a new fractional CFO. And you’re supposed to simultaneously:

• Close the books
• Plan next year’s rocks
• Hire, onboard, train
• Fix systems that mostly work but are straining under growth
• Radiate calm competence while your own nerves are stripped bare
• All while pretending you’re not also personally running on fumes.

Every conversation feels urgent. Every issue feels existential. Every problem needs a decision before the holidays, because again — apparently — there is no 2026. The phrase “let’s revisit this next year” feels like a luxury for people who don’t run things.

And Then There’s the Mom Part

The mom part doesn’t pause because you’re tired. It doesn’t care that you’ve been in back-to-back calls since 8 a.m. Your kids don’t want “your best later.” They want you now. And they especially want you now in December — when everything feels bigger, louder, and more emotional. When your seven-year-old is melting down after school not because of homework but because he’s overstimulated by three weeks of holiday chaos and doesn’t have the words for it.  When bedtime takes an hour because someone needs to process their feelings about a classroom conflict and you’re the only person who can hold that space. So you show up. Sometimes perfectly. Sometimes barely. Sometimes with coffee breath and guilt and a laptop still open in the car.

The Lie We Tell Ourselves About Balance

This season exposes a hard truth: There is no clean balance. There is no elegant system. There is no magic calendar block that fixes it. There is just prioritization, boundaries you enforce imperfectly, and the acceptance that someone will be mildly disappointed every single day — and you have to decide who that is. Sometimes it’s a client. Sometimes it’s a colleague. Sometimes it’s your kid. Sometimes it’s yourself. And the real work is learning not to let that destroy you.

What I’m Learning (Whether I Like It or Not)

• Urgency is contagious — not everything needs to catch it
• Leadership means absorbing chaos so others don’t drown in it
• December is not the time for perfection; it’s the time for survival with intention
• And no, you are not failing — you are operating at capacity in an impossible season

If this December feels louder, heavier, faster than usual — it’s not just you. There is only forward. There is only triage. There is only doing what must be done today and letting everything else wait — even though nothing is supposed to wait in December. And if everything is on fire and you’re still standing, still deciding, still showing up? That’s not just fine. That’s victory. Congratulations to us.