My sister gave me a sage piece of parenting advice when my daughter was little: Be careful what traditions you start.
What she meant was this: Say you get a permit to troop through the snow and cut down a Christmas tree out in the forest. You string popcorn and cranberries to decorate it, and each family member makes a new clay ornament. You cut out whole-wheat sugar cookies in the shapes of bells and trees and reindeer, and you decorate them with frosting that you color yourself with natural ingredients. You invite a bunch of family and friends and neighbors over for homemade shiitake-mushroom-and-nut-butter soup and rosemary bread made from scratch, and you practice piano accompaniments ahead of time for caroling around the tree.
I’d love to do all that stuff! What fun! And maybe I actually will someday, although not all in the same year.
But I’m also keeping in mind my sister’s advice. Do this kind of thing a time or two, and your children—or partner or other family members or friends—might become attached to what have now become cherished family traditions. Simplifying becomes more complicated. Sometimes it’s easier to decide what’s most important from the beginning
When I was growing up, my parents owned a clothing store on the main street of our town. Every year before Christmas, they worked many days in a row. When they finally closed the doors just a bit early on the 24th, they wanted to do something special for the family when they got home. But they didn’t have the energy to do much more than put their feet up.
So we started having crab, French bread, and our favorite canned split pea soup for dinner every Christmas Eve. After that, we’d open one present each. It was easy, fun, and festive.
My sister and I left home a few decades ago. The clothing store has been closed for over fifteen years. But my sister still has crab and French bread and split pea soup for all of us on Christmas Eve. Then we open one present each. After that, we put our feet up and enjoy each other’s company. Which is, after all, the most important thing.
I simplified a lot this year. I didn’t so much as take out our little faux tree and our small box of ornaments and the clay angel I made in kindergarten. We were going to be with my family in California anyway, enjoying my parents’ tree and my sister’s tree. “Awwwww,” my daughter said when I told her I wasn't going to put ours up. That was all, though. Maybe it helped that I’d taken the tree down from last year not so very long ago—in July.
On Christmas Eve, my sister’s tree had nothing but chili lights on it. I guess she was simplifying too. Of course, it didn't put any kind of damper on our evening at all. The tree looked cheery, and my college-age nephew and teenage niece threw a few ornaments on the next day.
How do you keep things simple around the holidays you celebrate?
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