This Christmas Won't Go the Way You Want It To

We’re a few weeks into Advent, a little over a week before Christmas, and right smack in the middle of peak “stressed out mom season.” Why do we do it to ourselves? 

We know perfectly well that no good will come from spending the next few weeks overtired, anxiety-ridden and agitated. Yet, despite living in a time where ideas like self-care, intentionality, mindfulness, and authenticity appear to be desired traits, it’s as if we just… can’t…help ourselves. 

 We ignore the rational voice that tells us to slow down and be realistic. We know that we can’t do “all the things” or check all the boxes. This voice implores us to stay off Pinterest, calm down, relax, be reasonable.

 But that voice is pushed aside by another that whispers, “what if the perfect cookie recipe is out there?” Or, “what if we squeezed in one more party? One more event.” We drift off into a fantasy world where the ideal recipe, decoration, photo card, party dress, or present is just around the corner. Just within our grasp.

I mean, why be satisfied with your perfectly fine Christmas tree when this set up is out there?

It comes down to one word really. A dirty twelve letter word, sabotaging moms the world over…expectations. 

 Many of us suffer this time of year from a very bad case of unrealistic expectations. And, no one’s immune. 

Even the mamma living a quiet Advent can begin to develop a set of expectations for what the holidays will be like. It makes no difference whether your “perfect” Christmas is a glittery, loud, fun-filled secular bash, or a quiet, somber, candlelight mass followed by a 5-course meal sourced from your hobby farm. The minute you start developing a list of criteria that have to be met for the holidays to be perfect, you’re doomed. 

 And the source of this doom, the saboteurs of all your lofty holiday ideals and high expectations? Your children of course. And your spouse, your family, in-laws, co-workers, neighbors and anyone else whose normal human tendencies might clash with your vision. 

 But, mostly your children (I kid…sort of).

 In fact, the people we love the most and are closest to have the highest likely hood of interfering with our expectations. 

 Because, I promise you, the minute you find the perfect dress for your three-year-old, she will vomit on it as you’re walking out the door to church. Or, more likely will discover that the velvet, bows, sequins, lace, etc that made the dress desirable in the first place will now “feel funny” and you’ll end up fifteen minutes late with a toddler dressed in sweat pants and a Rudolph t-shirt. 

Or, after spending a week meticulously planning, searching for recipes and buying the ridiculously expensive ingredients for Chateaubriand, your husband will announce that “we should just have Mexican food for Christmas this year.”

You do know that even if you could pull off this very posh table scape, you’d be all but guaranteed to spill a glass of red wine 3 minutes into dinner.

 Or, after spending a small fortune on a photographer for Christmas card photos, you will find that all the photos where the rest of your family looks great, you look like that picture of Buzz’s girlfriend from Home Alone.

 Or, or, or. 

 Yes, someone will get sick, someone will cancel, a gift you though would they would love will flop and the great outfit you found on sale will somehow not look right the day you need it to. 

Sister, that’s life. I know, because I am a person who suffers from very high expectations. Unrealistic expectations really. I’m almost thirteen years into this whole parenting thing, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that my vision for the perfect holiday or family event will likely not work out.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had plenty of lovely Christmases since becoming a mother. The good has far outweighed the bad. But, there have been little disappointments.

I suppose if there’s a benefit of being in your second decade of parenting, it’s that you understand the little disappointments don’t have to turn into big disappointments. 

No, this Christmas won’t go the way you want it to. Nor, will next years or the year after that. Even with the most efficient planning and best of intentions, something will not work out. That’s OK.  

I think we’d do well to think long and hard about what the source of some of our more unreasonable expectations are. Pinterest and Instagram don’t help matters. But, for some of us, it’s just who we are. The way we envision an event is the sum of the books we’ve read, movies we’ve seen and more than anything, our childhood memories. A sort of expectation stew of nostalgia and media (social and traditional). 

Growing up, Christmas meant snow (even the years there wasn’t any). Then, I moved to Texas for 7 years and Christmas meant Tamales. A jarring, albeit delicious change of perspective.

Honestly, I’m not sure it’s entirely possible to limit high expectations. And, we certainly shouldn’t sacrifice standards. Which is something entirely different. I suppose we should hope to channel less of our inner Mr. Carson and more of our inner Mrs. Hughes. A little Downton thought exercise for you.

 In the end, maybe we can just begin to make peace with the reality that we aren’t the director of our holiday experience, so much as the narrator. Our Christmas will be a human one because we’re human. Full of joy and sadness, surprise and disappointment. It won’t go the way we hope it will, but we’ll try to love it all the same.