The Year I Ruined Christmas

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBwELzvnrQg

One Christmas time, not long before the big day, when my five children were all still living at home, teenagers mostly, I was madly dashing from one task to another. I think maybe we were having guests that night. I was madly decorating, cleaning, washing clothes, baking, cooking, shopping, wrapping—you know the routine, I’m sure.

Of course, I had given the kids chores too—but it was maybe the first day of Christmas holidays and they were joking and singing and carrying on, happy as can be, but not making headway on their tasks. 

I went on--scrubbing bathrooms, mopping the floor, vacuuming—getting more and more angry at those selfish kids. 

Finally, I called them all to the kitchen for a serious Talk. They gathered around the island still happy and smiling—then I started in.

“Do you think it is fair that I have to do all the work? Do you think it is right that I am working so hard to make a happy Christmas for you while you are just fooling around?”

My voice raised high and higher until I screamed, “I do everything for you so you will be happy at Christmas, and you don’t even appreciate it!”

And then I burst into tears.

Suddenly the smiles and laughter were gone. Confused, the children looked at each other and then at their feet. My youngest’s face began to crumple.

Sobbing, I moved to the family room and sank onto the couch All five gathered around me in the family room. All was silent while I tried to compose myself.

Then my son David, about 14 at the time, a kindly soul and one who can always see comic potential, sat down beside me on the couch and softly patted my shoulder. He comforted me in the kindest tones, “There, there, Mom. Don’t worry. It’s OK.”

I took my head out of my hands and looked at his sweet face.

David continued, kindly and sweetly, simply explaining the obvious, “You don’t need to worry about ruining Christmas.”

I began to tentatively smile. Then he continued, still in the sweetest, most kind tones, “You’ve already ruined Christmas.”

Then I looked around at everyone’s stricken faces, those faces that moments before had been laughing and joking in celebration.

And I started to laugh. 

Because, guess what? They were https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBwELzvnrQghaving a happy Christmas. Until I started yelling and crying.

Soon we were all laughing, because it was funny. I had worked myself into a tizzy to make a happy Christmas, worked so hard I yelled at them and blamed them and yes—ruined Christmas. In an effort to make a perfect Christmas, I ruined it.

And you know what else was funny? 

I didn’t really ruin Christmas. We went on to have a happy time together. And many more happy Christmases since. Because one meltdown does not a Christmas ruin.

But the kids now say, like it’s a family tradition, "When are you going to ruin Christmas, Mom? 

I didn’t totally give up on Christmas meltdowns. But often, when I’m close to one, I remember the year I ruined Christmas and stop to think. I wonder, is whatever I am stressing about really worth ruining Christmas over? And the answer, of course, is no.

So lately the kids have been saying, “Mom hasn’t even ruined Christmas yet. Gosh, Mom. Don’t you have any sense of tradition?”