It was frigid cold, and you could cut the tension in the car with a knife. “Why do I try to do fun stuff?” I muttered under my breath. I was irritated. What was supposed to be the perfect night of driving to look at holiday lights had turned into a whining, crying, snarky car ride.
“Do you at least have an address,” said my husband as he gripped the steering wheel harder, his voice rising.
“Yes, I told you already,” I snapped back.
Then the kids started whining that they were hungry and wondering when we would see any lights.
“Just stop it, “ I screamed. “We are trying to find it. I don’t even know why I bother.”
I continued staring grumpily out the window.
This seems to happen every holiday.
I blame Pinterest for my delusions of grandor. The perfectly trimmed trees, in perfectly decorated houses with perfectly behaved children glowing with Christmas spirit.
The perfect holiday as defined by the interwebs is as elusive as a bedazzled unicorn. It’s enough to drive a person crazy, and I don’t need any help in that department.
I can’t be perfect on a normal day, and it’s especially hard when you add the pressure of a holiday into the mix. That’s when ugly mommy appears, like the one that was riding in the car that night.
The holidays are about family, peace, love, harmony and nowhere is written that it needs to be perfect. There will always be “something” that throws you a curveball, but that’s life. It’s not about creating the perfect holiday-it’s about enjoying the holiday.
So, as you stress over finding the perfect teacher gifts, or making the Pottery Barn knockoff garland for your banister, remember the holidays are what you make them. They can be perfectly imperfect and still be grand.
Oh, and that horrible night looking for the Santa House? Well, we eventually found it and the kids’ eyes popped out of their heads and we all sat in the car listening to Christmas carols and it was perfect.