It was bitterly cold outside and I was already nervous that the roads were going to be icy. As I waited by the car for the kids to finish stuffing their feet into their boots, the wind biting my cheeks and my nose starting to run, I couldn’t help but yearn to be back in the house. The idea of being cozy on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and a juicy book to read sure seemed a lot more appealing than driving the kids around to look at Christmas lights. But “drive through Christmas lights” was on my “holiday magic” to-do list and cozy reading wasn’t, so into the car we went.
Did we enjoy the holiday light drive? I honestly don't remember. I do remember that a few days later, I was thinking about how crazy long my holiday to-do lists (both the "fun" list and the "errands to run, things to buy" list) had become while doing my annual preholiday closet purge. Yes, I do holiday closet purges and make Christmas fun to-do lists, I’m a SUPER FUN person, I promise.
I was using Marie Kondo’s “Does this spark joy?” question to weed through my sweater collection when I realized I could totally make holidays more manageable if I just asked the same question about all those things on my to-do lists, including holiday traditions that had turned into more of an obligation than a pleasure.
When did the pressure to make holidays magical get so out of control?
It used to be that the holidays were somewhat simple. Buy some presents, have a big family meal, maybe go to church or get some Santa pictures taken, and that was pretty much it. Now there is Elf on the Shelf and cookie exchanges and elaborate outdoor light displays and so many people on social media competitively documenting all the special (and expensive and time-consuming) things they are doing to make the whole month of December a nonstop celebration.
It’s exhausting and it can be too easy to start feeling pressure to add more and more things to the tradition list, just to keep up with some craft-obsessed mom whose Instagram-perfect family is perpetually photo ready and never has candy cane-related meltdowns.
Although I try not to let myself be overly influenced by Pinterest perfect moms, I started to realize there were a lot of things on our holiday tradition list that didn’t actually, to paraphrase Marie Kondo again, spark holiday joy. I don’t want the holidays to be stressful, for me or anyone else, and I knew it was time to really think about what we want to do and to take a whole bunch of stuff off the holiday to-do list.
This year, we’re only doing things that bring joy.
I started by thinking about all the days leading up to the holidays. The idea of being obligated to move an elf every day in a creative way? No joy. The idea of getting a tiny gift every day? Yes, joy! So the Advent calendars can stay but absolutely no elves will line any of my shelves, now or ever.
I then sat down with a perfectly minty mug of peppermint chocolate and thought of the things I really felt joyful anticipation about when it comes to the holidays. It didn’t take too long to narrow it down to a couple of themes: I like giving and receiving gifts. I like reading by the Christmas tree. I like snacks and treats. I like sending holiday cards and hanging the ones we get on the wall. I like playing games with the kids or doing puzzles with my partner. I like wearing festive holiday pajamas but I don't actually care if the rest of the family wants to match with me.
The next step was to think about how to make the things that spark joy even easier to do.
Once I knew what brought me joy, I could think about how to reduce the work of making those things happen, because stress doesn’t spark joy. I realized that certain things are the opposite of joy for me: crowded spaces, waiting in line, being overly hot (the perils of needing a coat in the car but getting sweaty in a store), fighting with the kids about doing things that should be fun, and having to do tons of cleaning.
So I figured out how to stop doing those non-joy things while still finding ways to make the sparking joy traditions happen. I decided that I am, under no circumstances, going to the post office, so all out-of-state gifts are ordered online and sent directly. I don’t do Black Friday sales because I’d rather shop for gifts all year and be done with my holiday shopping before December starts.
Christmas Eve dinner will be all appetizers and snacks, and it will all be ordered or store bought. I have a very small kitchen, so Christmas Day pies and desserts are also coming from the store. I may make a batch of my famous oatmeal cookies to munch on during holiday break, but we skip the mess of making decorated sugar cookies. Nobody has to wear matching pajamas or eat food they don't want to on Christmas morning.
Do we have perfectly posed and filtered pictures to put on Instagram? Nope. Do I care? NOPE. But I also don't judge anyone who does care; we all get to decide for ourselves what feels like joy and fun for their family, so if other people want to make 17 kinds of cookies and have a professional photo shoot for Christmas morning, I salute them. From my couch, where I won't be wearing makeup and will be eating store-bought fudge.
Skipping holiday traditions has another surprising benefit.
I wasn’t sure if the kids would feel bummed about skipping some of the things we’ve done in other years, but they honestly didn’t seem to notice when I started simplifying the holidays.
I remembered how my own mother was always so stressed out and frazzled during the holidays and how not fun that was for anyone in our house, and that made me realize that prioritizing things that spark joy for me actually benefits everyone. When my kids are grown and thinking about the holidays, I don’t want them thinking about whether I was stressed or exhausted and snappish. I want them to remember that we enjoyed each other’s company, that we stayed home and cozy, and that we ate chicken wings and bagel bites on Christmas Eve. I want them to remember that the holidays were fun and not stressful, so we’re skipping all the things that don’t spark joy anymore.
See you never, Elf on the Shelf.
