I wrote this in December 2023. At the time I wasn’t sure whether I was preparing it for publication, or if it was something I wrote just for myself. When I dug this blog post back up just now it struck a nerve. I might have written it for myself last year, but I’m putting it out there now. Maybe you can relate to a passage or two. Leave a comment if you do – I’m looking forward to reading it.
„So here we are, December again. It’s the most magical time of the year.
I’m gonna let that sink in for a moment.
What’s so magical about it?
I catch myself watching / listening to bad Christmas movies lately when I’m doing housework. Housework feels very dull to me, so I usually liven up the situation by listening to podcasts or audiobooks. For the past two weeks, I’ve been going through Netflix’ catalogue of formulaic, foreseeable Christmas movies while doing laundry, picking up, or cooking. Is that a desperate measure to get myself some Christmas? Christmas lights, snowy landscape, caring for your loved ones in a peaceful and harmonious state of mind, getting gifts and giving them to those around you, having a fair amount of wardrobe in Christmassy colors at your disposal and residing in a perfectly tidy and wonderfully decorated house.
Am I looking at those movies because Christmas doesn’t feel very christmassy in my actual life? And, wow, the stories are really bad at times, I ouf! a lot at the terrible dialogue and weak plots. So I guess I must be kinda desperate about the whole Christmas issue if I put up with ninety minutes of not so great TV.
Here’s what I’ve come up with: I love Christmas.
No: I love the idea of Christmas. My idea of Christmas.
The actual event… Tricky. I want very much to get something out of it. But especially ever since I became a mom I gotta admit defeat, every year again, around December 29th.
Why is that, what happened?
1. I baked cookies.
I won’t this year, I swear. I hate baking. Wait, is that a safe thing to say for a mother? For the person that is strongly associated with a warm, homey-smelling baked good fresh from the oven? What am I robbing my kids of, now that I don’t bake more for them than I absolutely have to (and that is one birthday cake for each kid per year)? Anyways, baking Christmas cookies is the one thing I will take the liberty to NOT DO, I will get my husband or my mother to bake with the kids. AND clean the kitchen afterwards.
2. I cooked various meals and cleaned the kitchen afterwards.
I see a pattern emerging here. Cleaning the kitchen is the enemy.
3. I (the introvert) socialized nonstop because that’s what you do at Christmas, for the family, and that book with my feet up on the couch remains a bittersweet dream.
You can’t just let your folks sit around by themselves on Christmas, can you? Especially when they’re visiting your place, right? How bad a hostess would you be if you went “there’s everything you need in all the kitchen closets, I’m gonna go read by myself for a while”?
4. I cleaned the house.
For the price of telling the kids to get out of my way, for the price of not reading them beautiful Christmas stories. For the price of not enjoying a peaceful glass of wine with my husband. For the price of not taking a break in front of the fireplace with my journal, for the price of not contemplating and reflecting on the year that’s going, something I promote every year around Christmas on IG with the Christmas song I wrote a few years ago. Waiting In The Dark. Does that make me phony?
It makes me a family caretaker and mother who for some reason or other gets in line with the Christmas you’re supposed to provide for your family. Who places the expectations of others above her own wants and desires.
If it were up to me, I wouldn’t cook a fancy meal. I would get as few pots dirty as possible, in order to keep the housework to a minimum. I’m a family caretaker every day of the year – on a day that is supposed to be special I want for once not to be stuck in the damn kitchen spinning between sink and dishwasher. Also, even though I don’t have the same relationship to cooking as to baking, I’m still not crazy about chopping veggies and whisking vinaigrette. For me, a fancy Christmas meal makes that desired me-time with a book even harder to reach. A simple pasta dish would very well work for me.
If it were up to me, I would prioritize spending Christmas time with my family, with my kids, with activities that I love during this season. I love handcrafting Christmas cards for example. Or reading Christmas stories together, like The Polar Express. If I had the guts, I would role model to my children that coziness at home and togetherness as a family derives from the quality time you spend together, and not from a dust free house. I’m not saying you should spend the holidays amidst chaos. However, the past couple of years I’ve observed that my husband and I seem to sacrifice enjoyable activities with our kids (my husband’s the go-to parent for board games, for example) for the goal of having an all tidied up house on December 24th, 3pm. Last year, for crying out loud, I snapped at my then six-year old son because I saw from the corner of my eye that he was scattering tape, paper and pens over our table that I had just finished picking up, cleaning and decorating. He uttered that he was only wrapping the present he had made at school for my husband and me. Take a guess how I felt then…
There are women around me who I hear complaining about the same things. Not having enough time to get everything in order for Christmas. Not knowing what to do with the children from 12/21 to 12/24, noon. They just get in the way and have no comprehension for the stress you’re experiencing. They wouldn’t get the Christmas they picture if you didn’t stress and push like that. Is that really true? Or something we tell ourselves, because it’s what we’ve heard as children? I remember spending December 22nd and 23rd pretty much by myself while my parents were vacuuming, scrubbing, dusting and hunting for the best possible groceries for the holidays. On Christmas Eve they were usually beat, we never played a board game or read something together. I had my presents to keep me entertained (in Germany, Santa comes on Christmas Eve), but I might have liked something else.
I wonder what it is with this holiday that it makes me temporarily say good bye to the values I formed for myself as an adult, and jump back to what I grew up with. That I get in line with what a lot of people around me, namely female family caretakers, are doing this time of the year. That I don’t look this over from a feminist standpoint. My husband might very well be willing to help, but for some reason, now that I think about it, I believe that I’m supposed to hold the “Christmas playbook” in my hands and am responsible for it all playing out. Crazy.
My core idea of Christmas is and always will be that it’s all about contemplating. A year is going, a new one’s emerging. This takes place in the darkest hour: analogy with nature in the northern hemisphere, winter solstice. When you can’t see much outside, it’s time to look inward and figure out what’s there. Hopes, dreams, self-development, values… all that. Saying goodbye to some things and welcoming in other things. I like do that in the form of journaling, reading inspirational books or taking a walk in the woods. However, I really only squeeze it in these days, I dutifully scribble down a few notes so that I at least did some of my ‚homework‘. And it bums me out.
Here’s a thought: at the end of the day, as a mom, you get credit for being totally exhausted after Christmas, as long as this exhaustion takes place in a neat and well decorated house and involved meals with roasts or salmon or both.
When you, on the other hand, took your own well-being into account, leaving a few spots in the house mildly cluttered, you can’t help but feel like a failure. Or at least a little self-centered. Not giving your poor spouse and children the Christmas they deserve.
What’s the way out here?“