God Bless Us, Every One

Merry Christmas.

No, really, I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

This time of year those two words come easily to our lips when exchanging greetings with friends and strangers.

Merry Christmas.

On Sunday night a friend apologized for saying those two words to me. She was one of the first people to call and one of the most regular to call or text to see how I have been doing, but she felt guilty for those two easy words. She felt she should have somehow acknowledged my pain instead. Truthfully, I was glad she didn't.

Although I've gone to some of the holiday gatherings, it has been with a sense of trepidation. I wanted to go and be around my friends as though nothing were wrong. I crave that sense of normal, the sound of laughter and voices that aren't compelled to quiet themselves because of a lingering atmosphere of death. At the same time, I've worried that my presence might put a damper on festivities -- that people will worry that by being happy they remind me of my pain, by celebrating they remind me of my loss.

I wonder sometimes what they say after I'm gone.

I'll be honest, I've hugged a few young men I would never have thought of being quite so familiar with before. And watching families interact with their 20-somethings is painful at times. I've urged my friends to grab their kids and hang on tight, to hug their boys because that's something I cannot do.

But I don't want everyone to be sad because I am grieving.

My brand of grief doesn't feel that I should turn the world into a gray, lifeless place. I want to soak in the joy of the people around me like a sponge and feel the happiness of the season seep into my bones again. Sometimes, I will admit, there is an edge of pain to seeing someone else's joy, but I'll also admit that in many instances it had been there for a while.

I wish I could say that my response was universal, but it's not. I know people who have lost loved ones near the Christmas season and who still grieve, who years later don't want to celebrate this wonderful time of the year because it brings back pain. I know people who are more like the Grinch, begrudging everyone else their joy while they nurse the hurt in their own hearts, and I know people who just go through the motions because their grief still rules them even if they don't want to let anyone else know.

I'm determined not to be one of those people. I have too much in front of me to be painfully anchored in the past.

Instead, I want to drag Ethan's memory with me into every new Christmas. To let him live in my heart where I can love and protect him in ways I could no longer do in the flesh. I want to celebrate his life by hugging a stranger, by telling those around me that I love them, by remembering the things I wish I'd done more often and doing them every time I get a chance.

Merry Christmas.

The pain I feel is no more acute than it would have been had Ethan left us on some unremarkable day of the year, say mid-September, which to me is probably the least memorable time of the year. There is no reason to weigh down Christmas with my grief, but there are lots of ways to let Christmas and all that it really means lift me up.

This year, while my grief still has the sharp edge of a new blade, it's a little tough and I've dragged a bit. Christmas cards that had not been mailed have languished and been put away for another year. There's been very little holiday baking. The Christmas Eve meal was a bit light and missing Ethan's favorite mac and cheese, even though the girls love it as well. There have been things that I couldn't quite bring myself to do.

But the lights on houses and trees have been just as bright and the excitement in the faces of two little girls and one somewhat bewildered baby is still as wondrous as on any other Christmas. The warmth of gathering with friends and family, of touching and exchanging good wishes for the season, is just as special. The real gift that we celebrate each Christmas is even more meaningful.

Celebrate, make memories, hug and eat and fill your hearts with the love of the season.

Merry Christmas, and God bless us, every one.

My Holiday Tradition -- Ornaments

After battling three little people off and on for a week and extracting one ornament from the baby's mouth, I finally decorated my tree.

Now, although it looks fine and I don't have to worry about that item on my check list, I almost have a case of buyer's remorse because it doesn't feel like my tree. It's not the tree I'm used to having, well, OK, so it's the same tree I had last year. I should say it's not the ornaments I'm used to seeing, but I just wasn't up to two more weeks of the struggle I had last week just to protect a few small balls. So instead of a tree full of tradition and memories, I decorated the tree with the large, shatterproof balls I bought on clearance last year for the hemlock tree in the front yard. They never made it to that tree because 1) I would need to tote the ladder to the tree, 2) When I decided I was ready to drag out the ladder, I didn't have hangers for them, and 3) Once I had hangers, the weather was nasty.

When my daughter was small and I put away the glass ornaments that weren't safe, I was left looking for alternatives. Among the less dangerous and inexpensive options I found that year, I stumbled on a few that were worthy of keeping. As the years went on and I was still dealing with small children and a limited budget, I began making it a habit to find an ornament each year for each child. They were figurine ornaments -- mice on candy canes, characters from Rudolph the Red Nosed reindeer, skateboarders -- a hodgepodge of characters that gradually filled up my tree, bumping more traditional ornaments into boxes for outdoor use.

Once upon a time, decent ornaments even came in Happy Meals. There was a Miss Bianca the year The Rescuers movie came out; a Prancer from the movie with Sam Elliott and the fallen reindeer; a dog from All Dogs Go to Heaven (I think that was the movie) that played a holiday tune. Of course, one year the dog wouldn't stop playing his tune and I took him out on the porch with a hammer. He's a small, stuffed animal, and I was able to successfully smash the music box and shut him up without damaging his appearance. I don't think the children were too badly traumatized.

By the time the children were both big enough for glass to be safe, the plastic figurines were an established part of Christmas and each year I chose one as an early gift. They were never really expensive, because by and large a Hallmark ornament would have looked out of place among the early contenders, but each came to have a little meaning of its own.

There came a point when my daughter left home that I boxed up the children's ornaments, thinking I'd start fresh. I offered hers to her to start her tree, but she said they were more my memories than hers. She decided she wanted to continue the tradition, but start fresh with her own family. Because she and her husband are in a better financial place than I was, their tree is done up in Hallmark and Disney. Of course, that also brings a little more drama if one gets broken -- because there is cost as well as emotional attachment. Although it's changed a bit, the tradition lives on.

At my house, it continues as well. After a brief hiatus of no new ornaments for children, there are now three little girls to add to the tree. Each year the search for a symbolic ornament sends me into the Christmas shops of various stores for E1, E2, and this year E3 as well. I plan on continuing the tradition, but this year they simply aren't going on the tree. I just don't want the ongoing struggle with the daily drama of three little people, or at least that's how I feel today.

I know there are people who decorate with certain colors or themes for a few years, then change it all up. I guess I'm just too sentimental for that. Or maybe too cheap -- do you know how much just a seasonal decorating change can cost? I didn't intentionally set out to change the tree's theme this year, it just sort of happened.

And I don't expect the big colorful balls will continue to reign over the tree. Although they look nice and the tree is finally decorated, it doesn't quite feel right and I do miss the old ornaments. I'm sure once the children roll in, I'll forget about how it's decorated and just be glad E3 isn't eating Rudolph and that big ball that just hit the floor won't break and hurt her. The tree will slip into its proper place as a backdrop for the holiday festivities and the change in decor probably won't be noticed.

At the same time, if I feel too much disappointment over no little creatures hiding in the tree, there are still plenty of limbs for some to make a limited appearance this year. Just as long as they're high enough to be out of the hands of certain little people.

A Blue Christmas? Something Needs to Change

The holiday season -- whatever you celebrate and regardless of why you celebrate, heck, even if you don't celebrate -- is tough.

There's no way around it and it's made worse by the fact that we tend to think we're the only ones having a hard time negotiating the terrain of life between Thanksgiving and Jan. 2.

I blame Norman Rockwell and television. Well, that and the fact that we universally lie to one another about how great our holidays are, or our memories from childhood when we didn't really know what was going on are so clouded that we think perfection existed then and it's just now that we are failures.

Wrong.

Dreaming of that greeting card Christmas where everyone gathers around the table, clean, sober and civil, for a holiday toast of eggnog, mulled cider or maybe hot chocolate, can drive us insane when we're actually dealing with the reality.

Reality for a vast number of us, including me, includes a big chunk of dysfunction. How we cope with it affects our ability to enjoy the holidays.

Right now, I'm not doing too good. Despite my intent to focus on my grandchildren, and the fact that I've put my holiday energies there, I'm still struggling to be filled with Christmas cheer. Although I promised myself I would never get caught up in that vision of a perfect holiday that I've seen so many people struggle with, I'm finding it difficult this year. Since my winter depression doesn't usually hit until after the tree comes down, I'm looking for ways to cope better.

So for me, and everyone else that is finding it tough, I've been looking for ideas to help. Some have helped me identify my unexpected blues and maybe they will help you as well. Using medical sources I've narrowed it down to a list of 10.

1) Don't lower your expectations too much. Expecting too little from the holiday as a way of avoiding disappointment can be as bad as expecting too much. Seriously, if you start trying to prepare yourself for a holiday without a family member, you can miss the joy of everyone else. If you just know that nothing will go right, even if it does, you may be so caught in your blue fog that you don't notice. I put this first because I think that's what's happened to me after Thanksgiving. Really, while I missed my son who chose not to come, it didn't keep me from enjoying the day, so I shouldn't let anticipation of a repeat put a damper on Christmas either.

2)Volunteer and do something for someone else. Oops. I've messed up here already. I ALWAYS help pack Christmas food boxes, but I'm so far out of the loop no one reminded me of the date and I missed it this year. In the last 20 or so years, I've only missed doing it once before and perhaps part of my blues comes from that absence. I may need to be looking for another opportunity.

3)Exercise. Doctors recommend that even if you don't feel like you have the time or energy, exercise will help beat back depression. I've been doing some of that, but I'm used to being outside everyday for about an hour of fresh air and walking. I cannot control the weather and the rain has kept me inside. I think that may be part of my problem identified right there. Instead of spending my mornings walking with dogs, I've been stuck inside waiting on stir crazy preschoolers -- hmm, could that be making me a little crazy, too?

4)Find positive ways to remember loved ones. This is the week I lost my Ma. I was sitting in a courtroom waiting on some boring legal decision when my mom called and I felt my phone vibrate. I slipped out to call her back and found out my most beloved grandparent had slipped quietly away less than two weeks before her most beloved holiday and the one we always spent with her. The ways I remember her are positive, but this week I'm exceptionally sad, especially since the weather was so much like this year as well. I'll celebrate her by fixing a ham, and her famous chocolate pies, and maybe some really good mashed potatoes just like she would have done, and by decorating because the little people who call me Ma like it.

5)Use a sun lamp to fight seasonal depression. I have one because I know I have a touch of seasonal depression caused by shorter days. Although it's a bit early in the season, the ongoing rain and gloom are probably contributing to that as well. Got to dig that darn thing out and sit and listen to Christmas carols.

6)Lean on your support system (family, friends, support group, or therapist, if you have one). I've been a slacker in that area as well. I haven't talked to my best friend about just not quite feeling up to Christmas this year. Instead I'm still aiming to be little Miss Christmas. Guess I'm going to have to come clean.

7)In contradiction to not expecting too much, have modest expectations. DO NOT EXPECT THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS! Too many of us (including my family sometimes) dream that somehow we will put aside the differences that keep us from being close the other 364 days of the year and have peace and harmony together at Christmas. Somehow the magic of the season will spread to our dysfunctional families and they will be perfect for that one day. In direct relation to that, don't expect to have the perfect gift for everyone, or that someone will buy the perfect gift for you if you don't tell them what it is. Not giving or getting that gift should not set the tone for the holiday, but I also know that is part of my problem. My adult son has asked for something outlandishly expensive that I know he would love. I had to flat out say no. That's in direct contrast to the mom idea of seeing a child's face light up when they open their gifts -- never mind his age.

8)Don't overindulge in food or holiday "spirits." Darn, I was really looking forward to spiking a really big glass of eggnog and overdosing on calories, sugar and alcohol all at once. Or maybe baking and devouring a few sheets of holiday cookies. I've got some great recipes and I have the perfect little people to help bake them. It would feel good at the time, but the guilt, carb crash and potential hangover wouldn't help my overall mood I know.

9)Forget the unimportant stuff. I know, I do not have to put every decoration on the tree. Yet it haunts me that they are still languishing in a closet. Let it go already. No, I also am not displaying every light and I'm deeming it a failure and blaming it on my lack of enthusiasm and anticipation of having to put it all away after the holiday. No one but me notices that I haven't found my wreath yet (I hope) or hung the icicle lights. Don't we all have things we do that we can probably do without sometimes? I've got to let it go.

10)Remember the reason for the season. OK, so this one didn't make the WebMD list, but really, for most of us taking a step back to think about why we celebrate Christmas instead of how can bring some serenity. It's not about getting together with family, gifts, food, parties, decorating or cooking -- nope, none of the things we get focused on and consumed by are really what matters. Christmas is the day set aside to observe a miracle, love come to life, the redemption of mankind. It's about unselfish love that we've all been given whether we accept it or not. If we remember Christmas and let that love fill us, all these other things don't matter nearly as much.

So let the true spirit of Christmas fill you. Let go of the things stressing you out and be good to yourself. Sounds easy, but I know it won't be quite that simple. Still, it gives us something to aim for and if we manage only partial success, we'll still feel better in the long run.

The Season for Jolly Old St. Nick?

Last week, the bigger Es composed their carefully crafted letters to Santa.

E1 arrived at my house telling me how Momma had helped her write it and she asked for a Furby. For much of that day she was consumed with the letter she had written and the idea of its magical journey to the North Pole. At 4, the lines between magic and reality blur quite easily and she never questions how a fat man in a red suit can travel with his reindeer around the world on Christmas Eve.

It's a magic I never knew because I grew up without Santa Claus.

That may seem like a weird confession, or in some ways a sad one, but we simply didn't ever have the myth of Santa Claus in my house when I was a child. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to tell us a lie, my parents weren't that progressive. Because despite the lack of Santa Claus, we put our lost baby teeth under our pillow to be replaced by coins during the night. But Santa was a bigger deal and one never had the opportunity to experience.

I know part of it was due to the fact that there was a time when my dad worked during the hours that we would have been expecting to open gifts from Santa, but I think it was a deeper philosophical difference. Any way, we never believed in the magic of Santa. I don't even recall any explanation beyond the fact that we weren't to reveal that knowledge to other children.

I can still remember going to visit Santa as part of a larger family outing and having to pretend that I believed he was more than a guy in a red suit because my cousins thought he was the real deal. Even more strongly, I remember Christmas Eve gatherings where the other children were talking about what Santa would bring and worried about getting home and in bed in time for the sleigh to stop at their house. We had no such worries and could have played all night.

We were probably a bit smug in our secret knowledge that our cousins, younger and older, were being misled. Like adults, we knew the truth. The gifts under the tree came out of a closet where we hadn't found them. We weren't trying to convince some guy at the North Pole that we were good enough to have that most desired gift, we were convincing our parents who already knew exactly how naughty or nice we had been all year.

As a result, perhaps, we always had more reasonable expectations for what we would find under the tree on Christmas morning. Although presents didn't come by sleigh, they still did not appear until we were asleep for the night. We would wake up in the morning to find our tree transformed -- two stacks of gifts beneath it. The unbearable waiting for our parents to get up and knowing we dared not disturb them is a strong Christmas memory.

There was still magic in Christmas.

While I later appreciated the realistic view of the gift-giving that living without Santa gave me, I wondered about the magic I missed. When I had children I wanted to somehow create the magic I never experienced for them. It was a struggle, since I was working from what was, in many ways, a blank slate. Although I knew the Santa stories, making them real was a different game. Having never been on the receiving end, I wasn't sure about the giving end either.

Somehow I managed some mix of what I had and what most of my cousins and friends had. Santa was a magical Christmas Eve visitor who would grant a gift wish, but only one. Everything else under the tree came from me. (Seriously, even when they lived in a two-parent home their dad never shopped and was just as surprised as they were.)

When they got up on Christmas morning, Santa would have filled their stockings, which were hung on their doors because I didn't have a fireplace, and left their gift with the stocking. When they got old enough to tackle Christmas morning earlier than I wanted to get up (when they were small, I was up waiting on them), they were allowed to open their stockings and Santa gifts without waiting. At a decent hour, they could come wake me, if I wasn't already up.

Then, like my own childhood, we would go to the tree which had been transformed overnight with gifts. It always felt like a fair balance of magic and reality and one that let me take credit for most of the gifts I had bought. Like it had for me, it kept them from asking for everything in the Sears Wishbook (do you remember those?) or expecting that the magic of Santa would bring them an outlandish gift that was totally unaffordable.

Now the girls look forward to the same kind of Christmas, and I realize that in my own stumbling way, I created my family's traditions, forging new ground without an inkling that what I was doing was going to be more than me and my children, but, so far, their children, and perhaps children of future generations as well. The Elf on a Shelf has joined the holiday celebration at their home, bringing a few extra gifts and bit more magic. I wonder if he will become part of the holiday tradition the Es will continue with their children and what new variations they may find to enjoy.

I'm glad I opted for the magic, because I think kids need a little magic. They need to believe in things they never see, or touch. Not really because of things like Santa Claus, the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny, but because it allows them to dream and have faith in things that don't always make sense. In a world where we make our children grow up faster all the time, giving them that magic for a while is a gift in and of itself.

The First Ballet -- Nutcracker, Of Course

Along about this time of year it often comes to the mothers of small children, particularly little girls, that it might be a good idea to take them to see The Nutcracker.

OK, so I'm basing my hypothesis on my own experience with the Es and their mom, but any way, last week she called me with the idea of going to see The Nutcracker.

It seemed logical as the girls are frequently taken by the idea of ballet and occasionally dance around the house in assorted tutus. At the same time, there is a conveniently located School of the Arts in Winston-Salem, which stages the holiday ballet each winter.

Then again, the bigger girls are only 2 and 4, so I thought a full staging of the production might be a bit much and suggested the local theater, which brings in a visiting ballet for a children's production each winter. As luck would have it, the day we debated the question was the final day advance tickets were on sale for the local production (smaller but cheaper as well) and the show was coming up that weekend. She was all in and invited my mother and I to join them as well.

On Sunday afternoon we assembled in our seats. The girls were excited, but E2 was skipping her nap, so a little on the edgy side. E1 had insisted on wearing her church clothes for the event and was completely adorable.

Now is the time for me to admit that I've never watched The Nutcracker in any form. The closest I get is enjoying some of the music from the Trans Siberian Orchestra at Christmas -- and I only know that because I did recognize some of the songs in a less jazzed up version during the production. Ballet, well, it probably is no more my thing than it is that of a 4-year-old. At the same time, I do have the patience to sit through some fairly lengthy, less than exciting things, thanks to years of covering governmental meetings.

Before the theater filled, the girls used a little excess energy running the aisles and checking out the seats. The theater at the Andy Griffith Playhouse, where Andy attended school 50 or 60 years ago, is the actual auditorium of the old Rockford Street School in Mount Airy. The stage is too small for a full ballet, but perfect for local theater. The seats are padded, as I'm sure they weren't in their school days. And the sounds and lights are first class for a small theater.

There was a bit of bustle over people getting seated and some confusion in front of us where it appeared there might be fisticuffs between some older folks over who got the seats. I didn't realize it was a such a hot ticket. E2 occasionally noted the appearance of shoes beneath the curtains and would loudly proclaim, "I see ballet slippers." Between those outbursts, she fidgeted.

Finally the lights went down, the narrator, who did double duty as a dancer, took the stage, and the show began. E1 claimed my lap and her sister sat on Mom so they could better see the stage. Act 1 covered a lot of territory, and by the time the curtains dropped, I wish I could say E1 was enthralled. Instead, as the narrator summed up what was to come in Act 2, she said quietly, "I wanna go home."

I told her I wanted to see the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, which she thought might have some appeal, and that the show would be over soon after that, so I thought we might tough it out. She agreed that we should stay. Next to us, E2 was faring no better, and I was doubly glad we hadn't opted for the full staged production and the longer drive.

The dancing was enjoyable and apparently inspiring as E1 now wants to take ballet, she says. All the same, Mom and I were both glad to release squirming children when the lights came up and the show, which had lasted less than 90 minutes was over. I'm not sure who of the four of us was most tired.

Afterwards, the girls had some memories of their first ballet and stories to tell. There will probably be dances and scenes that stick with them, bits and pieces they'll remember as fun. The fidgeting and unexciting spells will slip away from their memories quicker than they do ours.

It would be all too easy to say it was a wasted effort. The girls didn't experience the magic that we might have anticipated. But at the same time, I think sometimes as parents/grandparents we set our own expectations too high.

I still remember early Christmases with my firstborn, when I was so eager for her to have the magic and be excited, and it was really my excitement and dreams of magic that pulled me from the bed at an indecently early hours. By the time she was old enough to be excited, I was ready to sleep in (OK, only until 7 or so).

Remembering the things that don't go as we planned, or hearing other's tales of disaster, can easily dissuade us from trying new things or repeating an experience. It shouldn't and, thanks in no small part to my daughter's hard-headed nature, probably won't. Next year, while they will still be E1 and E2, they will also be a year older and in many ways totally different children from who they were this year. They'll have memories to build on, and perhaps there will be less squirming and more "Ahhs."

Another year or so down the road, we may all be ready for the full stage production and eager to appreciate an orchestra and full cast, things that would have been wasted on us this year and might have made the experience enough to dissuade us from trying again.

As it is, we'll probably tack The Nutcracker into our holiday plans moving forward. And E1 is still talking about ballet lessons.

What's Wrong With Merry Christmas?

I've already seen it a dozen times or more on Facebook -- the war over saying Merry Christmas has begun.

It's just another excuse to add stress to the holidays, for those who are into that; another reason for people to be overly sensitive to their own rights and political correctness; another reason for business folks and their employees to try not to offend anyone.

I've seen posts by people complaining about the expression Merry Christmas. Seriously? The post had something to do with never having anyone tell them Happy Kwanzaa or Happy Hanukkah, that it was only the Christians or so-called Christians trying to shove it down their throat.

Then there is the other side of the coin that sometimes makes that appear true. The people who are so dedicated to saying Merry Christmas that if you don't respond in kind they think you're possibly a druid or devil worshipper.

Give me a freaking break!

Look at the calendar. Or don't. Both Hanukkah and Christmas are listed on mine, along with Boxing Day. That means that by and large our society accepts and observes those days. I have been told Happy Hanukkah, but I didn't think someone wanted me to be Jewish. I've never been told Happy Boxing Day, but then I'm not Canadian, so I'm not surprised. Kwanzaa doesn't appear on the calendar and wasn't heard of so I was growing up, so it would be a bit of a surprise to be hear it in a greeting, but I wouldn't be offended. Giving someone a pleasant greeting that includes the mention of either of them, or some other day that is special to you, shouldn't be offensive.

I expect most people say what comes naturally to their lips as a holiday greeting. It's based on their belief system and the way they were raised and it's not intended, either way, as an attack. In fact, I'm sure some people struggle with the PC expression Happy Holidays when they are at work because of people in the first group.

Why do we stress so much over an expression?

Whether you are Christian or not, no one seriously believes Jesus was born on Dec. 25. The early church picked that day to celebrate his birth, possibly to correspond with other celebrations that were already ongoing, and possibly because some who studied the calendar though that was about nine months after he was conceived -- although seriously, this was several hundred years after the fact. Too bad no one thought to make note at the time. If Mary had only kept a baby book -- OK, so I'm being silly, but really, if we want to complain about dates and holidays.

Dec. 25 became first a religious holiday and then a civil and secular holiday as Christmas. That was the name that became assigned to the day, and the fact that it was originally referred to as Christ Mass, which has a decidedly Catholic ring to it, doesn't keep Protestants from observing the same date and name.

People who seem to believe more strongly in Santa Claus than Christ don't appear to have a problem celebrating the day either. Many people of other religions adopt the holiday simply because of its cultural significance. Focusing purely on the commercial aspect of the date, which is entirely of our creation, retailers rake in lots of money, even though lately they often call it a holiday sale.

Many of our greeting cards freely blend the words "Merry Christmas," with images that are purely secular -- trees, gifts, Santa. Our most beloved Christmas tales beyond the one found in the Bible have nothing to do with Christ. In A Christmas Carol, Scrooge shouts "Merry Christmas" after his night with the ghosts -- and his epiphany had nothing to do with a babe in a manger or Christianity, although it did in many ways embrace the lessons that baby taught us as a man. "It's a Wonderful Life" may have an unlikely angel, divine intervention and take place at Christmas, but it's by and large a secular tale.

So why, in the decades since either was written or filmed, have we become so ridiculously sensitive? What's in a name that we want to pretend offense from either side of the coin? I seriously do not understand. While I think the largely commercial efforts to avoid the use of Christ in the holiday are absurd, I don't think it is either a war on Christmas or a war on Christianity. It's just a statement about our society where despite our guaranteed free speech, we still seem to search for something to complain about and seemingly assert that our free speech and hearing is more important than anyone else's.

I will be saying Merry Christmas and I don't expect it will offend anyone I know, or strangers I greet. If it does, they can get over it or not. It's the holiday I celebrate and therefore the one I share. But if someone says Happy Holidays or Happy Hanukkah to me in response, or even says it first, I won't take offense. Perhaps that is how they celebrate the season, and it is neither up to me to judge them, nor an attack on what I believe.

Just say it with a smile and mean it.

And today, as we kick off the season, let me wish you Merry Christmas.

Juggling the Holidays

It starts about this time every year, or maybe even a little earlier, the complicated dance involving work, family, self and the holidays.

When do you have days off? Who wants you to come to what gatherings? How much running can you do and still maintain your sanity? Which gatherings do you really want to go to and how do you gracefully get out of the others? How do you swap out your work schedule to be there for the things you really want to attend?

I know for a lot of people the work schedule isn't a big deal. You don't work on Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Year's Day because it's a holiday. But for most of the working adults in my family, that isn't the case. My daughter works in emergency services and you can bet there's never a day when they close the place down. My son-in-law is in retail and days off are extremely limited. My new self-employed status as a dog boarder means I can look forward to one of my busiest times of the year each Thanksgiving and that week's work will help see me through some of the leaner days to come -- no way I'm shutting down. My husband is the only one who can count on days off.

Of course, if you have a job you have to work when you are scheduled. That involves negotiations in the workplace because everyone wants a day or some portion of the day off during those times. Some people can be downright intractable about what times they need for their personal holidays, without even looking at anyone else's family needs. If you've never had to adjust your celebrations to your work schedule, that first time can be a shocker.

My family, however, has been adjusting for years. When I was small we never had Santa Claus because my dad worked a job that didn't give him time off on Christmas morning. We celebrated Christmas Eve for several early years. Disrupting the holidays was a tradition I continued when I finally found a job in journalism. While the small town paper where I started out didn't publish on Christmas and provided a lot of leeway for holiday celebrations, someone still had to be on call. I remember toting a police scanner home when it was my rotation and spending at least one Christmas Eve on the side of the road at a bad accident scene. The family gathering we were supposed to attend took place without us. By the time I worked at a daily paper, we were accustomed to tweaking our holiday schedule to include producing a newspaper. Thanksgiving celebrations took place when we were off, even if that meant it was on Black Friday or a late dinner instead of lunch. My daughter grew up flexible on the holidays, although not being on hand Christmas morning with three little ones in the house is not an option she's willing to consider.

Once the workplace lottery is over, or when you already know what days you'll have off, that's when the trickiest part of the holidays sets in. When you know you've only got a set amount of time and a long list of family obligations, determining whether and when and where to go is as tricky as negotiating a minefield. We know the fallout from making a bad choice can have family members irritated until the next holiday season when we have a chance to make it up.

That whole family negotiation isn't one you worry about as a child when you're toted haplessly from place to place, or even as a teen when you don't get a voice in the excursions. Even when you're out on your own, odds are good you'll show up where your parents do. But when you have a partner, oops, there's a whole different realm of celebrations in the equation. And if you have children, then divorce, another layer of complications.

Gifts aside, it's no wonder the holidays become such a stressful time.

Folks are more likely to wind up in a serious argument over where to spend Christmas Eve or how many New Year's Eve parties to attend than they are about how much money to spend on gifts or how to pay for them. Stressing over the perfect holiday or our dysfunctional families or what we think we should be doing that we aren't adds even more unnecessary pressure.

With all that laying ahead of us, it's no wonder some of us take a deep breath before the holidays and fight the urge to run for cover.

I know I put myself through the paces for years, generally forgetting about what I really wanted out of the holiday. Did I want to run to the (former) in-laws' for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning? Once that obligation was over, did I really want to put in an appearance at all my family get-togethers? Had all those years of being dragged along when I'd rather have sat home with my new things made me unable to just say no?

My daughter, God bless her independent thinking, was jumping through the same hoops being held up by two families a bit more scattered than mine had been when she decided after a nerve-wrecking snowbound trip from Boone and too many holiday trips up and down Fancy Gap Mountain, that things needed to change. Since she held the trump cards (the all-too-adorable grandbabies), families have pretty well fallen in line. The Boone trip doesn't try to mesh with Christmas Eve or Christmas day, but instead is a weekend earlier so they have plenty of time to spend with family there. No more trips to my mom's Christmas Eve (even if she manages to have the evening off). They come to my house instead because her logic was that she always spent Christmas Eve at her grandma's and she wanted her girls to do the same. On Christmas Day, if she doesn't have to work, she doesn't make her girls go anywhere. Last year they stayed at home and enjoyed the day and we drove over and had lunch with them.

While the new arrangement means I've taken on Christmas Eve at my house, it's not a big thing and it's close family (the Fancy Gap portion comes down the mountain now) and I get to spend it with some of my favorite people. Christmas morning is quiet at home with no one we have to visit, but it was peaceful last year. And while I do regret not seeing my in-laws who are in Asheville, it's my work instead of a scheduling conflict that keeps us from traveling during the holidays. I'm hoping we can find a day to make the trip ahead of time instead.

The fact of the matter is the holidays are just dates. Thanksgiving changes every year to meet some schedule most of us don't comprehend, and Jesus was not born on Dec. 25. Our celebration of the events is what is really important and, beyond meeting the Christmas expectations we set for our children, they can be as flexible as we make them. They can also be as enjoyable or as hectic as we let them become. We can have Thanksgiving on Black Friday, Christmas at home instead of on the road, New Year's without the parties.

Instead of driving ourselves insane to meet the expectations of others or to keep some family tradition that has lost its meaning, what if we stopped to think about what we really want to do to make the holiday special for ourselves. Do we want to join the family in a big celebration, or would we just as soon not hang around the alcoholic relative, or the one who complains constantly? Would we just as soon skip the office party, or cut out early to avoid bad politics? Do we really have to show up at every gathering and drag our children in and out of the car a dozen times because everyone wants to see them, or would we like to stay home and have an open door policy so that if they really want to see them, they feel welcome to make the trip themselves?

We create a lot of the holiday stress ourselves and we can assert ourselves and say no. Believe me, it will get easier over time.

What makes the holidays special isn't seeing everyone, but the light in a special someone's eyes when we walk through the door or the smile on a child's face when they take in the gifts beneath the tree. It isn't about doing it all, but doing what counts for you and the people you genuinely care the most about. The adjustment may be a little rocky, but it can bring more meaningful, less stressful holidays in the years to come.

Me, I'm looking forward to turkey on Black Friday, Christmas morning at home with cinnamon rolls and coffee, and breathing a little easier because I know that nothing, including those two events, is set in stone.