Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years were quite consuming this year, so I haven’t had the chance to write for a while. You know the drill. Between work and family and all the everyday norms, trying to find time to bake, shop, decorate and make oh-so magical memories for all, I squeezed in some sleep here and there that left little time for anything else. After all these years—still striving for “perfect” holidays.

Why? Why do we try so hard?? Listening to my mother, she always seemed to remember things about my childhood holidays a little differently than I did. She recalled the stress and things not going ideally as planned. I always remembered how special they felt and how great they were. She recalled her own childhood Christmases and holidays very fondly. I wondered if my grandma recalled those the way my mother recalled my childhood’s. At this point I hope and pray that’s the case. That would mean there is hope my children will fondly recall their childhood holidays as happily as I do mine and not view them through the same stress-goggles that I do.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I can remember my mother being so stressed out at times that I could tell I should just avoid her on certain days. I can recall certain years that Santa didn’t bring me exactly what I wished for—i.e. the year I got a Pumpkin Patch Kid rather than the ever-so-hoped-for Cabbage Patch Kid. But even those years seemed wonderful! I would tell my parents that Santa knew what I wanted ever better than I did! I was totally happy and never felt deprived in any way, shape or form. I loved the time off from school, visiting friends and relatives, once a year treats, etc.  I hope my children will feel the same way when they look back one day.

Yet knowing all of this I (and I’m quite certain many of you) still try until we are half crazy to create the “perfect” memory—to capture the “magic” of the season. We try so hard, that others are convinced we LOVE Christmas because we start decorating so soon, try a million new recipes and start shopping as soon as the back-to-school hype wears off. And we do so with a smile and singing Christmas carols, trying to cover up our true feelings. Ha ha—if they only knew.

Perplexed the year has come and gone so quickly that another holiday season is nipping at our heels, we hide our loathing resentment of all the extra work, expense, and prepping and planning that we get to load on top of our other Supermom duties. Of course we love seeing the happiness all of our efforts bring to our kids, family, and friends. We still, of course, get sentimental feelings of nostalgic happiness when we pull out the decorations we made in grade school or watch Rudolph and A Charlie Brown Christmas on TV. We even love when we make our kitchens smell like the holidays with the scent of seasonal family recipes handed down for generations. We are not Scrooges by any means, but maybe we are a little bit of Kranks, too. (We enjoy Christmas, but maybe we wouldn’t mind skipping one.)

And, yes. I realize this is mostly my own fault because I’m the one who has probably lost sight of the true meaning of the season. I know I should spend more time focusing on the Reason for the Season. Counting my blessings on Thanksgiving, celebrating God’s greatest gift of love manifested through Christ on Christmas, and the optimism and promise a new year can bring – this is what it’s all about; I fully understand that. Hell. Every year I even resolve to simplify everything about our holidays in the upcoming year. I just have yet to make myself. If I can.

I wonder, though, if stressing out, over planning, and stretching for the just-shy-of-reachable holiday goals have not become family traditions in themselves, as our mothers and grandmothers have also described. Would it feel as disappointing as realizing we missed the annual broadcast of Rudolph if we didn’t put all the effort into trying so hard? Are we using the fear of disappointing our loved ones as an excuse because we fear we would be disappointed if we didn’t at least try for the elusive enchantment that we’re not even sure actually exists beyond what our own wonderful memories of Christmases past portray as they are played back in our minds year after year? Are the funny stories that we share years after the burnt turkeys, thought-that-counts gifts, Tannenbaum tantrums, and other imperfections which shape our own image of the “Perfect Holiday” just as important as traditions that will be handed down, even unintentionally? Maybe so.

Or maybe we’ll actually do Christmas Luther Krank style—skip it all and book a cruise instead. A girl can dream, can’t she?