Ah, it’s that time of year again when the snow is falling, the hot chocolate is flowing, the school kids can no longer pay attention, and the women are completely losing their minds. I may receive flack for this one, but it seems to me that a sizable slice of holiday stress gets served to women. At least it does in my family, both current and past. Case in point, as I prepare for my second year hosting Christmas, I just made a call to my husband to determine if the turkey is big enough and whether I should bother labeling his family’s stockings—maybe with glitter glue? One can imagine the resounding silence.
So, too, do I remember a time when I looked at my own mother—a rigorously organized full-time teacher—and thought: what on earth has happened to her? Upon hosting everyone for Christmas (or perhaps worse, attending Christmas at her in-laws) her voice would raise several octaves, for several weeks, and she suddenly approached every detail with radical indecision. My father, by contrast, tasked with setting up the tree and then settling onto the sofa to watch hockey, experienced no such character shift.
Thus, in an attempt to maintain my non-hysterical holiday persona, I am setting out a few guidelines. 1. I am going to try not to impress anyone. No really: no one. 2. I will focus on quality time with my children and let there be a merry, colossal mess. 3. I am going to make my shopping list and stick to it. No, your friends do not need those peppermint bath salts. Except that they smell so nice… And look at the cute packaging!! And you could buy a pack of three and put them in these cute Nutcracker cards. Just stop.