- My family’s holiday tradition is anti-social.
- I always felt the pressure to do many things with many people, but realized that I needed time to myself.
- I want my kids to feel empowered to choose what makes them happy, even during the holidays.
During the holidays, my family is often proudly anti-social. I’d even say it’s one of our Christmas traditions. After we exchange presents around the tree, all I want to do is order books with my gift cards and plop down for a few days, replenishing my energy so I can survive another year as a working parent. If I can’t chill during the holidays, when ever?
I used to feel guilty. When extended family pressured me to participate in non-stop gatherings, I felt like a Grinch for refusing. But I’ve gradually come to believe that I set boundaries because I really love the holidays – and want to enjoy every minute of it. You should not sacrifice yourself to please others. You have to plan celebrations together and work according to each family member’s schedule, needs and tastes – which of course is no small feat.
I learned my lesson when I overindulged years ago
I remember the night the “don’t overload” rule became our modus operandi. Our first daughter was only about 6 months old and a terrible sleeper. Our out-of-town relatives made reservations for 7:30 p.m. at a Mexican restaurant in Manhattan—over an hour train ride from our home. The baby was usually asleep by this hour and I was exhausted from the constant breastfeeding, but we packed up and dragged ourselves into town.
As we entered the restaurant, schmaltzy rock songs blared through the speakers. The mirrored walls seemed to explode with ornaments, tinsel, and flashing, swirling lights. Robotic snowmen and reindeer sleighs zigzagged around and Santa Clauses popped out of cuckoo clocks. The baby buried her face in my sweater and cried. I spent most of the meal in a toilet cubicle because she couldn’t concentrate on eating amidst the bustle of the restaurant.
I was unable to exchange a single word with the relatives who had traveled this far to see us. “Why don’t you take your enchilada plate to the bathroom?” suggested a family member, trying to be helpful. “You’re not going to finish it here.”
When we apologetically tried to slip away for dessert, the entire table, quite deep in their wine, began to protest, “No! Don’t leave us!” A family member seemed to take offense at our departure. We gave in to the pressure and stayed for another half hour.
Now I focus on the needs of my family
After that year, I was probably a little too self-centered and refused to show up at a party that wasn’t 100% kids-oriented. Eventually I loosened up and tried to meet my family halfway; we have all learned to compromise.
For example, this year I asked my aunt and uncle if we could get tickets to the “Rockette Christmas Spectacular” matinee for my 3-year-old’s bedtime. My relatives preferred to see a show before dinner. I agreed to meet for the 5pm performance, but informed my family that we would not be available for an Italian dinner afterwards. We preferred to grab a pizza at Penn Station while waiting for our train home so everyone could go to bed and not collapse the next day.
The most meaningful holiday gatherings happen when we take care of ourselves, when we are truly present for each other. I want my kids to listen to the inner voice telling them to turn up the music and dance with their cousin Fred – or turn the music off and close the door. Either choice is fine for me.
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