Christmas Past: Ruining Christmas

We just watched the animated Christmas Carol movie with Jim Carrey. Not my favorite version (the Muppet Christmas Carol is my vote for best CC movie)--but still good to think about. I've also been reading the book, as I do every Christmas. The book is really the best. Anybody who hasn't read it should. None of the movies do it justice.

But that is not what I want to write about tonight. I've been thinking about my Christmas Past, and what experiences have taught me. Here is the most important one I can think of.

The kids were all teens, maybe Anna a little older. Christmas was approaching, and as usual, I was overdoing on everything. That was my way at Christmas. Five children and 3 classes to teach and I would be hand-making stuffed animals for everyone. Every year, I would turn in my grades, stop at the fabric store on the way home, and then sew three Christmas dresses for my three girls in the three days before Christmas. Then there were the cookies and treats that had to be made, and plates delivered to the neighbors. And all of course there were 5 Christmas programs/band concerts/fund raisers/plays to attend. And we had to go to Salt Lake to see the temple lights and do all the other traditional activities. I felt as though I had to make everything perfect for Christmas and it was all up to me. It was all fun and I loved it, but I would get short of sleep and then short of temper and at some point, every year, I always had a total melt down.

I would yell at everyone, "Why can't you help more?" "Can't you see I need a hand?" "Why can't you pick up after yourself?" After the yelling came hysterical tears, and everyone would feel awful and then Christmas was definitely not perfect, in spite of all my efforts.

David, this particular Christmas was maybe a junior in high school. Dave was the comedian of the family. He had started a comedy group that performed at school, and he delighted in making everyone laugh.

So one evening not long before Christmas, I broke as usual. Dirty dishes were strewn all over the kitchen, shoes and coats and books littered the floor, I had presents to wrap and treats to bake. I can't remember what set me off, but I started in on the predictable pattern, yelling and working up to the hysterical tears.

Everyone was hanging their heads in misery. Except for David, who, as I recall walked in on the scene. I remember being in the family room, looking over at David standing in the kitchen.

He calmly, sweetly, in the most understanding and caring voice, said, "Don't worry, Mom. It's OK. You've already ruined Christmas." He smiled at me encouragingly. "You don't need to try so hard. It's OK."

I stoped mid-tirade, shocked. Then I started to laugh. Maybe a little hysterically, but laugh I did.

I realized he was right. I was trying so hard to make everything perfect, but by losing my temper, I just "ruined" Christmas.

But the thing was, he knew and I knew, that Christmas wasn't ruined, and it never could be. There could be no treats, no gifts, no tree, and Christmas would still be Christmas.

But, once Christmas was "ruined," all the pressure was off. We could just have a nice time together and that was enough.

So ever after that, the kids would say, "Let's ruin Christmas early and get it over with." Or, "Hey, Mom, when are you going to ruin Christmas?"

Now I don't worry so much about making Christmas perfect. And so it is--pretty perfect anyway. And I've also given up that traditional melt down. If I feel one coming on, I just curl up with a good book and figure what doesn't get done won't really matter.

It's nice to know I can ruin Christmas and we can still have a nice time.