My House Isn’t a Macy’s Holiday Window and I’m Learning to Be OK with That
In the blink of an eye, Thanksgiving weekend blew into December with a blizzard, that darn Elf on the Shelf, and a whole lot of decorations to hang. I don’t think I’ve sat down since Thanksgiving dinner yet.
I’m not alone. Every mom I know is in full-on holiday crazy mode, bustling around trying to make every last moment of December pure magic.
I know, because I am that mom. Trying to figure out how many holiday events we can fit into the month of December. Handpicking the picture-perfect but uncomfortable-as-hell dress clothes for our kids to sit on Santa’s lap, hysterically crying or not. Bribing them with lollipops or LEGOs to just.smile.ONE.time.damnit.
And on the sidelines, #DoneWithFun Daddy giving me the side eye. Again.
But all these things I’m aspiring to? The elaborate Elf on the Shelf set-ups, the darling gingerbread houses, the 12 kinds of Christmas cookies, the 7 Rubbermaids of Christmas decorations? (Gulp. I counted. And may have an addiction that requires professional help.)
Those things aren’t for the kids. Those things are for me.
My boys don’t care about a houseful of decorations or perfectly wrapped presents. They don’t need hilariously elaborate Elf on the Shelf capers each day. Christmas is for the kids, and what the kids really want is a mom who’s calm, patient, and present – to experience the magic along with them instead of hellbent on capturing it for posterity or social media.
Christmas is for the kids.
As a mom, that’s my reason for the season, and so this has become my December mantra. I can’t embrace the peace of the season when I’m feeling pulled in a million directions, strung out like a mis-wired strand of Christmas lights. I can’t be Santa, Mrs. Claus, and all of his little elves for my household all at the same time.
If you can be, then, mama, go for it. You do you (because you’re doing AMAZING). I promise not to judge you if you won’t judge me.
But I can’t do it, and I’m done trying. To save my sanity (and also possibly my marriage) this Christmas, I’m channeling my inner Elsa and letting all the rest of it go.
Here’s what won’t be happening this holiday season for my family:
An Instagram-worthy house
I love Instagram as much as the next. But for as much inspiration as it generates, it also generates envy. Suddenly, I’m focused on all of the “have nots” instead of recognizing what I already have in front of me.
If you happen to see a snap of my Christmas décor on the ‘Gram this season, please recognize that the photo in no way represents real life. It is angled and cropped and edited so you don’t see the toys behind it or the food in front of it or the random articles of clothing in the middle of the floor. It may be glowing and sparkly and beautiful…but it’s not real life.
Our house is lived-in. It’s messy. We play with our Christmas decorations. What used to be a tastefully arranged shelf of all my favorite Christmas things is now a shelf of Easton’s favorite things, arranged according to his vision. It includes (but is not limited to, depending on the moment):
- A Christmas tree we built together out of Duplos and the Duplo “present” he proudly built himself
- The LEGO advent calendar I built and he then rebuilt to include “Spy Santa” with a laser gun and various villains trying to break in to the gingerbread house
- The plastic light-up Ski-gloo with waltzing figurines that Sawyer presses the button on at least 50 times a day until my head might explode from the tinny song and flashing lights
- The Christmas train that should be on the tracks under our tree but apparently looks better on the shelf with the rest of E’s cherished items
My house isn’t a Macy’s window and it’s never going to be featured in House Beautiful. But it is warm and happy, and my kids and the moments we have decorating together are what make it that way.
Breathe in. Christmas is for the kids. Breathe out.
Up next …
A color-matched, white-lights Pottery Barn Christmas tree
Does your Christmas tree have a zombie ornament on it? Mine does. It’s what Easton wanted this year … so I got out my Sculpey clay and made him one, blood, brains, weapons and all.
Does that align with my own vision for a perfect tree? Not so much. My whole adult life, I’ve dreamed of having one of those catalog Christmas trees, color-coordinated (in purple, of course) with ribbons, twinkly white lights, and matchy-matchy ornaments.
But even in my daydreams, this Kate-ideal Christmas tree is located in my bedroom or my office, not the primary tree in the center of the house. Because as much as I love color coordination and glittering perfection, I love the eclectic mix of colored lights and every ornament with a memory behind it more. Unwrapping ornaments each year is like a montage of my life: my likes, my milestones, my accomplishments over the years. There are favorite animals, souvenirs from trips, wedding, home, and baby ornaments. They are each associated with something significant in my life, and that’s what I want my tree – and my holiday season – filled with: memories and meaning.
Life with kids is imperfect, so I’ll save my perfect purple tree for retirement. All those baubles would just get broken anyway. For now, I’ll be content with my ornament-laden Scotch pine with the Christmas zombie front and center.
Breathe in. Christmas is for the kids. Breathe out.
I even put my perfectionism aside and let my kids hang all the ornaments with me this year. It was a struggle not to completely redecorate after they went to bed (I may have moved a few things…). But watching Easton take ownership of the Christmas tree was like watching myself as a kid. He helped #DoneWithFun Daddy string the lights. I held my tongue about the spacing. He unwrapped his ornaments himself and hung all of them in one square foot on top of each other. I didn’t make a single suggestion for improvement.
After he was asleep, I moved his Darth Vader light saber to what I thought was a more premium position. The next morning, he accused me of ruining it because he had carefully hung it right next to a red light so it would glow just like Darth Vader’s. Seeing the disappointment on his face, I almost cried, feeling like the monster who had wrecked her child’s vision for her own OCD ornament-spacing reasons. I blamed the incident on Ralph the Elf, and the light saber went right back on the same branch with the others, glowing in the red light. George Lucas would approve.
Breathe in. Christmas is for the kids. Breathe out.
And then …
The never-ending, over-the-top Elf on the Shelf shenanigans
In a move that I now regret daily, I unpacked Ralph the Elf the day after Thanksgiving. But unlike years past, where we found a spot for him and there he stayed all December long, this year I made a serious lapse in judgement: I MOVED HIM. All it took was once, and now Ralph has to move each night, in a cute, creative fashion. Honestly, what the “elf” was I thinking?
But Ralph seems to make Easton unreasonably happy, so I’ve found a compromise. Ralph’s antics have to be able to be accomplished in 2 minutes or less, frequently in the dark after I’m almost asleep in bed and then stumble downstairs to move him. I love the adorable, funny scenes I see on Facebook, but I just don’t have one more thing in me this season.
So Ralph moves around the house, doing things that relate to what we’re doing that day. Snow day? Ralph is looking out the window in awe. WiFi went down and we could only watch our iPad? Ralph is waiting for us in the morning in front of the iPad with his Goldfish snack. WiFi back at last? Ralph is hugging my iPhone in joy. Ralph is not the naughtiest elf, and he’s clearly not the most creative elf either, but he’s enough. Just like me as a mom.
Breathe in. Christmas is for the kids. Breathe out.
Don’t forget …
The inevitably disastrous Santa visit
Both my kids hate all costumed characters. Santa, the Easter Bunny, Batman, Wonder Woman…it doesn’t matter. They won’t go near them with a 10-foot pole and Easton’s lip still quivered (at 5 years old!) when I asked if he wanted to visit Santa to tell him what he wants for Christmas this year.
I know this about both of them, and if I get real honest, I get it too. It’s kind of creepy: “Hey, kids, let’s go sit on a random stranger’s lap while he’s dressed in a fake fur velvet suit, and whisper what presents you want in his ear after promising that you’ve been really good this year.” Under any other circumstances, all of those things would be exactly what I would admonish my children never, ever to do.
So why do I try to force it on them at Christmas? All for a moment, and a photo, to look back on. Sorry, Santa, 2018 isn’t your year in this household. Better luck next year…or not.
Breathe in. Christmas is for the kids. Breathe out.
And finally …
The Pinterest-perfect holiday-themed foods
If you’re following this blog, you know I adore holiday-themed foods. And don’t get me wrong: There will still be holiday-themed foods this season. But there will also be store-bought appetizers and tasteful restraint on the homemade goodies.
I have a problem of excess (and it starts with Pinterest). Ask me to bring a dessert to a party and I hop on Pinterest to find something that fits my criteria of both cute and delicious. Undoubtedly I’m going to find 10 things that fit that criteria – a dessert, an appetizer, a cocktail. A normal person would just choose one (i.e., the dessert they were assigned). But I’m both overzealous and indecisive, so I try to bring all the things.
Then, the day of the event, I’m overextended, running out of time, and fighting with everyone in my household to “just give Mommy ONE minute!!!” We all arrive at the event sulky and sullen – but carrying the perfect Christmas tree fruit tray, snowman Oreo truffles, and cranberry sangria.
The icing on the cake (or the gingerbread men)? Nine times of out of 10, my picky eaters won’t even try any of the foods I’ve brought, and if they do try them, they declare they’d rather have Teddy Grahams anyway. So this Christmas, my festive contributions might be made with love by Trader Joe’s. But it’ll be at least one step up from Teddy Grahams, I promise.
Breathe in. Christmas is for the kids. Breathe out.
Yes, Christmas is for the kids. I’m going to just keep repeating it (a little wistfully) to myself until I believe it.
But there’s freedom in this mantra too: When you start to let go of the need for perfection and start embracing the inherent messiness of motherhood, you create space in your head – and on your to-do list. You have fewer things to worry about. More time to focus on what matters…like making that magic for your kids and experiencing the wonder alongside them.
What I really want for Christmas – more than a catalog-ready tree, a magazine-ready house, a classic Santa photo, or some Pinterest-perfects desserts – is to hear my boys say what I said every single year at the end of Christmas as a child: “This is the best Christmas EVER!”
I meant it, each year. And I hope they will too.
