Holiday Haze

The magic isn’t in the checklist, it’s in the moments we pause

I haven’t written in a while. I feel guilty about it — a true motherhood rite of passage. Feeling guilty about the things you do, and the things you don’t do. Every act is really just a bundle of guilt waiting to be unwrapped and dissected at the most inconvenient time… like 4 a.m., when you wake up to pee and suddenly find yourself crippled by a mental checklist and already exhausted for a day that hasn’t even started, all while attempting to recite your gratitude mantra.

(Only me? Bueller? Bueller?)

I tried to come up with a good explanation for why I haven’t made time to write lately. And then my brain wandered… to the presents that need wrapping. The kitchen clutter surrounding my keyboard that needs cleaning. The appointment that needs booking. The bill that needs paying. And the damn elf that needs to be moved. Can he hurry up and learn to fly and pose creatively on his own already? It’s 2025. Get with the program. Is there an app for that?

I did this to myself, I know. But my internal checklist answered my question for me: I am tired. At the end of the day, I want to crumple onto the couch and turn my brain off. Answer zero questions. Make zero meals. Change zero diapers. Be still. Be buried under layers of blankets. Maybe with a glass of wine or a snack within reach. Is that so horrible? Does the lack of endless productivity — or exercising my brain in some stimulating way…mean I suck?

Then I remembered: we are all just trying our best. To partner. To parent. To build a home and a life we’re proud of. To be present. To not be judged. To be enough.

And this holiday season — this whimsical, magical, heavy, slightly unhinged time of year — can feel like a pressure cooker of activities and stuff (to buy, to do, to bake). But it’s also the perfect reminder to slow down and let yourself be. If you need a beat, gift it to yourself. You don’t need permission to slow down. You don’t need anyone to tell you it’s okay to skip Mall Santa, the picture-perfect family shoot, the matching pajamas, the holiday festival, or the most extravagant gift for that one impossible-to-impress family member (who literally has everything and needs nothing, no, seriously, he doesn’t need anything).

But I’ll say it anyway, if you need me to.

If you want a holiday hack, this is it: last year, I wrapped 25 holiday books and labeled them under the tree so my kids could unwrap one each morning as a countdown to Christmas. This year? We’re balancing my husband’s major, life-changing total shoulder replacement recovery, months of seemingly endless illness, and navigating a heartbreaking loss in our extended family. And you know what? I didn’t wrap the damn books. And the kids haven’t noticed.

What they do notice is when we surprise them with a holiday donut. Or take a spontaneous hot cocoa and holiday-lights drive after dinner. They notice when we stop answering emails or cleaning the kitchen to read an unwrapped book. To play monster trucks. To have a tea party with Dolly and Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile. They notice when we sneak up behind their chair at breakfast to steal an extra kiss or launch a surprise tickle attack. When I hop on the sled with them after the first snowfall, even when they hesitate at the top of the hill. When we let them have an extra cookie before bed and sing along loudly, off-key, and unapologetically to the “Me, I Want a Hula Hoop” line from the Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas song.

So maybe if we start noticing those things too, we can stop stressing over the million to-dos. The school dress-up days that are adorable but feel strategically designed to break us. The over-the-top Instagram moms we compare ourselves to. The massive gift reveals that make us wonder if what’s under our tree is enough.

Because it is.

It’s more than enough.

It’s actually everything.