Holiday Reluctance, A Tradition Is Born
Today, on the first day of our Advent calendars, it seems fitting to discuss the disagreements that take place in my home regarding holiday celebration and decor protocol.
Let me start by telling you that I needed to Google what Advent even means. I don’t know a lot about religion, but I was feeling fairly confident that Advent is not about eating chocolate before breakfast simply because it’s December. And while we’re on the subject of Advent calendars, let me tell you that my children are Advent calendar snobs. Did you even know that was a thing? My children insist upon Lindt Advent calendars. The $2 version from the local pharmacy simply will not do. Every year, my sorry ass hikes over to Lindt on the first Monday in November to purchase the prized calendars. Why so early? Because I have learned the hard way. That’s why. I have tried to substitute the $2 version and was told by Max, in no uncertain terms, that I really needed to get my shit together in the future. Because I’m a sucker for holiday magic, I created a recurring calendar event to keep myself in line. But also, because I have tasted cheap chocolate from cheap Advent calendars and it is some of the grossest shit I have ever put in my mouth. Interpret that however you want.
Anyway, the Advent. According to christianity.com, which I suppose is a reliable source, Advent serves as an anticipation of Christ’s birth in the season leading up to Christmas. It’s more nuanced than this description, but that’s the gist. It is based on the liturgical year, not the calendar year, and begins on the Sunday that falls between November 27th and December 3rd. This year’s Advent began November 28th. Advent is intended to be a season of fasting, like lent, so naturally capitalism has grasped firmly onto this idea and turned it on its head, forcing me to provide my children with morning treats as we count the days until Santa visits…just like Jesus intended.
The tradition of fancy Advent calendars in our home each December is one of the rare holiday celebration protocols that hubs and I agree about and/or prioritize in equal amounts. We typically disagree. Here are some examples to illustrate my point:
I love sending Christmas cards. Love isn’t a strong enough word, actually. I take pride in selecting the *perfect* Shutterfly template and painstakingly cultivating family photo shoots to match our design. And I love nothing more than when people tell me a) they love our card and b) it was the first card they received this season. I love receiving cards from others and hanging them with clothespins and twine from our living room window casings and curtain rods. Hubs thinks it’s too much effort.
I love holiday decorations (but really only for Christmas, aside from a few uncarved pumpkins on the front steps to cover Halloween and Thanksgiving). I want our house to look like the North Pole mailed us a box, and when the box opens, it’s filled with those crazy snake toys that burst out and explode everywhere, but instead of crazy snake toys, the box is filled with lights and garlands and stockings and reindeer and ornaments and sparkles, sparkles, sparkles. Hubs is satisfied with a few Christmas pillows so he’s extra cozy while watching YouTube tractor videos on repeat with Luke.
I love erecting - I tried to use another word, but this one really makes me laugh - our Christmas tree during the first weekend of December. I firmly believe in celebrating one holiday at a time, so we never erect our tree before Thanksgiving. But when December rolls around, look out. I’m a purist as far as tree decor goes. I like white lights, a star on top, and our galvanized tree collar. THAT’S IT. I know I’m supposed to love ornaments on my tree - especially the ones my kids have made over the years - but I don’t. I love the ornaments. I love that my kids made them. And I love that I store them in a plastic bin in the basement. But I don’t love them on the tree. Hubs is cool with throwing up a tree on Christmas Eve and calling it good.
I love baking cookies reserved just for Christmastime - Sugar Cookies, Russian Tea Cakes, Snickerdoodles, and Gingerbread. I love looking through my collection of cookie cutters, poring over decorating tutorials, and starting a baking project with my kids, only to have them ditch me 14 seconds in and leave to finish alone, only to appear again when the icing and sprinkles come out. I love trying to sweep up sugary crystals from the floor, but never actually being able to get it all, and feeling little granules stuck to the bottom of my feet until January. Hubs likes chocolate chip cookies that someone else bakes for him.
I love gift wrapping. I don’t care so much about the gifting. The gifting is a pain in my ass. BUT THE WRAPPING! I love wrapping paper with whimsical designs, retro landscapes, and traditional plaids. I love coordinating the paper with silky, satin ribbon tied into perfect bows. And I love crisp edges and square corners that come from wrapping boxes. I do not care to use gift bags. I consider it cheating. Hubs on the other hand, prefers to present his gifts in the plastic bags they come home from the store in, but adds Scotch tape for added security and personalization.
Our…er, my holiday traditions create such joy for me. I continue them because I love them. They transform our home into a magical place for my family, whether they enthusiastically participate or just placate me. I don’t care either way and here’s why. Somewhere along the way, the reluctance became tradition. How’s that for a Jedi mind trick?! The Grinchiest Grinch in Whoville became the composer of our holiday orchestra! Would I love my holiday traditions this much without the banter about them? I really don’t think I would. It just wouldn’t be Christmastime were it not for the complaints about getting the tree too early…
…and this year, we did actually get the tree too early. Jesus would be pleased to know that our tree went up on November 28, the first day of Advent.
