I loved Haley’s post last year, “Things I Don’t Do,” so I decided to put my own holiday spin on it. Like motherhood in general, there are expectations everywhere. Some are perceived, some are real. They come from friends, mothers, mothers in-law, social media, the news, the Room Mom and husbands and kids and on and on. Those expectations are magnified times one billion over the holidays.
So here’s the list of Christmas things I don’t do:
Buy the fundraiser wreaths from daycare — I’ve probably already lost the flyer.
Christmas cards — don’t get me wrong, I adore receiving all of yours and seeing your cute families and reading your letters and admiring your astute Tiny Print editing details, but I won’t sending one this year. Although, have y’all heard of that text a photo to Mint and they send you three suggested designs thing? A promising option for next year.
Use the word “divorce” on that stressful, dreaded evening that husband and I get all the Christmas decorations down from the attic.
Host. anything. at. my. house. Nothing.
Wrap presents from Santa. If he feels strongly about it, I’d be delighted if he wrapped them.
Festive Crafts. Nope nope nope. Unless you’d like to invite me over, and you’ve got all materials and instructions and you tell me and my tiny human exactly what to do. And then you clean-up our creative genius (aka mess).
Cook. Bake. Saute. Braise.
Over-schedule myself and my family. (Husband would likely say I’ve already broken this one).
Buy everyone gifts. This won’t be on purpose, but the likelihood that I forget to buy something for someone is high.
Monogram anything. Real cute stuff though.
Elf on the Shelf. The DAILY creative pressure is just too much.
Apologize for not doing any of these things.