Good Enough

My local radio station started a new series for the holidays, “Good Enough,” about just relaxing and letting Christmas be, well, good enough. The first time I heard the announcers talking about it I smiled. Yep! That’s me! I’m hosting 15 in the midst of closing a business I’ve run for 12 years (which means emptying the house of tons of baby equipment), starting a new job (working at home so I need to set up an office), and finishing my classes (at my age I should be having a mid-life crisis, not pulling all-nighters). So yeah, they’ll be lucky if the house is clean and there’s food, and that has to be good enough this time around.

The radio host said she wasn’t really feeling the Christmas spirit, and that also resonated with me. Of course there’s the busy-ness listed above, but in recent years I’ve had a hard time summoning the joy. I think it’s something beyond feeling overwhelmed but I couldn’t put a finger on it until I did some holiday shopping. There was a mom showing her daughter the Frozen toys, while the girl’s eyes opened wide as saucers. The little boy who was literally screaming while running toward the Star Wars display. I don’t get to revel in that excitement because my kids are older now.

My teenagers don’t jump for joy in the aisles. They’d rather melt into the background. As I shopped, I longed for the days when I could just buy whatever junk off the $1 pile and have them react like it was the best thing they’d ever seen. Now I have to take a hard look and think, do they really want this, and is it worth what I’m investing, or will it end up in the pile under their bed? And will they think I’m completely out of touch because why would they even want something like this? I remember the Christmas mornings where the gift opening went on for an hour because the tree was piled with Play-Doh, Matchbox cars, and plastic dinosaurs, and every gift was a treasure. Now they’re still happy with their gifts but it’s over much faster, and are the cinnamon rolls done yet?

I’ve got one kid who stubbornly clings to the magic of Christmas, and I told him he’s carrying the spirit for our family this year. He started a tradition of bringing candy canes to his class, which I totally forgot about. He followed me grocery shopping this weekend just so he could pick out his canes. When I pointed out he only needed one box (I thought for his teachers), he said “Don’t you remember? I give them to the whole class.” OK, now on top of being the Grinch I’m a lousy mother to boot.

For this boy, I’m rallying. He gave me a list of items he needed for the teacher presents he assembles every year: pencils, dry erase markers, sticky notes, erasers, and of course chocolate. He found bags, stuffed them with tissue, and put labels on each one. He found an old soccer ball of his own and taped a candy cane to it for his gym teacher. My heart swelled (3 sizes that day?) and I felt it – the joy of the season comes in a different way, and it doesn’t just disappear because they’re older.

It doesn’t have to be about what Santa left and how high they’re going to jump when they see it. Both of my kids are so happy to have their entire family coming here, they can’t stand the wait. At first we weren’t going to host (see paragraph 1) and they were disappointed. They started talking about how awesome it was when we had the family over and my husband and I just melted. If I can’t give them joy through gifts, I can give them their family. And when I started thinking of it that way I remembered it’s not the presents, food, and hubbub they remember about Christmas. What they want is their loved ones nearby. That’s enough for me.

 

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