Holidays Don’t Have To Be Perfect To Be Wonderful

I’ve become the type of person who used to annoy me and I’m oddly okay with it.

It’s true.
I’ve officially become that person — the one who used to make me roll my eyes.

I say this with mild nausea: my Christmas decorations were up by November 29th.

Shopping? Done weeks ago.
Gifts? Wrapped.
Lists? Oh, there are lists. To-do lists, backup lists, even a colour-coded list for our family gathering of 26 (yes, 26!).

Now, for some people, that’s nothing new.
But for me? This is growth.
(Cue applause from family and friends who’ve witnessed my “Christmas chaos” era.)

I used to be that bleary-eyed shopper tearing through mall aisles on Christmas Eve, gripping a half-crumbled list like a life raft.

One year, it got so bad that, as I was unpacking groceries on Christmas Eve, the doorbell rang — and there stood my brother and sister-in-law.

Apparently, I’d invited them for dinner, which I had forgotten entirely. Totally. Not even a flicker of memory.

We recovered somehow, but my husband and I ended up wrapping gifts until 3:00 a.m., powered by caffeine and panic.

The next morning, I was too tired to enjoy a single candy cane. That was the day I vowed: never again.
The hustle had hijacked the whole meaning of Christmas.

Fast forward to this year.
I’m doing my best to keep things merry, bright, and manageable.

Which is still a bit ambitious, given we’re mid-renovation and still trying to get the paint cans out of the living room before Santa arrives.

But my mission is clear — to create “Hallmark Memories” and “Kodak Moments” (preferably without drywall dust in the background).

This time, I’m scheduling an actual Silent Night before Christmas.

Picture it: me, a good book, a glass of wine, and Bing Crosby crooning while I pretend I live in a snow globe.

I’ll slow down and actually enjoy twinkly lights instead of sprinting past them.

Instead of inhaling chocolate like a jittery elf, I’ll savour it. Slowly. Maybe even with a napkin.

When I smell tangerines or turkey roasting, I’ll let nostalgia do its thing.

To keep my festive cheer intact, I’ll try something radical — getting enough sleep.

At gatherings, I’m dropping the pressure to sparkle. Turns out, being a good listener is easier — and sometimes far more entertaining.

To dodge stress, I’m keeping extra gifts on hand because, yes, I will forget someone. It’s tradition.

I’m simplifying too.
Do we really need ten types of cookies?
Or pierogi and cabbage rolls?
(I suspect not. Though I may keep both… for research.)

I’ll also resist the urge to lose it when someone cuts in line at checkout. Deep breaths. It’s Christmas. Maybe they just needed candy canes more urgently than I did.

And above all, I’ll do one kind thing for someone who can’t repay it — a child in need, a homebound neighbour, or that grumpy guy who still hasn’t taken down his Halloween decorations.

Most of all, I’ll pause, channel my inner Pollyanna, count my blessings, and remember:

Christmas doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.
It just has to be real.

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