Meredith’s Musings

Anticipating the holiday season is quintessential to this time of year. At times, the anticipation exceeds the experience that can often be overshadowed by the hustle and bustle – so much to do, so little time, and so many memories to make. But when I think back on Christmases past, it’s not the coordinated moments or planned events that come to mind. Instead, it’s spontaneous interruptions, the surprise last-minute adjustments, and random happenings that stick with me. While I thoughtfully plan Christmas morning, organizing the opening of gifts for the big surprises to come last, it’s the girls having the time of their lives pushing each other in the empty boxes that I remember. What was that big gift last year? Who knows? But man, Fable’s face when Wilder coasted her across the hardwood floor – that’s vivid. My best efforts couldn’t coordinate that magic.

Like my mother, I try to facilitate chaotic activities, often to no avail. I direct the girls to open one present at a time, alternating between them. I don’t want to miss a single expression or gasp or even a look of disappointment. And yet last year, while Husband and I were intently watching Wilder open the big gift (which I still can’t remember), Fable covertly dug into her stocking and slyly unwrapped a pocket-sized present typically reserved for round two. When I caught the small trinket in her hands, I scolded Fable – playfully since it was Christmas morning – and she beamed, no doubt impressed with her ninja-like skills. That look of satisfaction on her four-year-old face is etched in my memory. She remains the one you have to watch almost a year later.

Not to be outdone, Wilder takes her turn during the holiday baking. She perks up whenever I pull out the stand mixer, as it only surfaces when sweets are prepared. She offers her “help,” forcefully climbing up on the counter of which there is little room as it is. She starts innocently by offering to “sample” the mix as I add ingredients, and she’s knowledgeable enough to wait for the sugar. She keeps “sampling” until I swat her hand away and insist the cookies taste better baked. She disagrees. I once went to see about her sister who’d called from another room only to return to Wilder all but face-deep in the bowl. Again, that batter-covered face sticks in my mind.

I coordinate the girls’ outfits for Christmas parties, and last year, while unsure how many to plan for, I bought several ensembles. I dressed the girls in bright red ensembles with matching small-scale bows and left the room to dress myself. A gasp followed by a “FAAABBBLLLEEE” quickly ensued, and I rushed back to the living room. Little Fable decided to make her own juice cup and spilled it all down her perfectly-matched dress. I felt defeated as I often do when things don’t go how I foresee them in my head. Fable attended the party in a different dress, unmatched, and I’ll let you guess which daughter got the most compliments on her outfit. I swear with each comment she looked at me with the pride of unfortunate events.

With each Christmas, I’m learning to lean into these occurrences, both for my own sanity and for preserving the make-merry tradition of the season for my girls. I’m trying to plan less and leave pockets for life to summon our attention organically. It’s more relaxing for me and gives my girls an opportunity to make their spontaneous preferences known. I want room to maneuver, and I want them to learn the importance of veering off script, of relaxing into life instead of charging through it with a to-do or must-be-like-this list. This year, if we find ourselves covered in cookie mix or a stained party dress, well it’s just where we’re supposed to be.