Nancy’s post about hating the holidays is so spot-on, because the holidays cause so much stress for so many people, especially senior caregivers! I get it, and I’m with her on all of the hard labor – emotional and physical – that goes into celebrating the holidays. I get so stressed and break my back, and yet, I must admit, I still love Christmas. Let me explain.
As a kid, I was obsessed with all things Little House on the Prairie. I loved everything about the Ingalls family - how they stuck together no matter what, and how, most especially, they celebrated Christmas.
Lamplight, simple, homemade decorations, gratitude for each other. So different from my own
family, which felt more like a random group of people who shared an address but not much else, and certainly not holiday cheer. My mother’s usual demeanor was a mixture of evil Mrs. Olsen and Mr. Edwards when he had taken too much drink.
My mother hated Christmas and worked hard to ruin it for her kids, so that we wouldn't care about it, but it never worked on me. I participated in my own Christmas traditions. I strung cranberries and popcorn, I made ornaments out of corn husks and felt. I imagined this was a family bonding experience, even though my parents were watching Dallas in the next room, and my siblings were God knows where.
I eventually moved on from Little House. But soon I was introduced to the woman who basically took the simplicity of the pioneer Christmas and turned it into something similarly homey but also insanely over-the-top. I saw her on the cover of her Living magazine, with her perfect blonde bob and expensive-looking wool sweater under a caption that said “Let’s Create New Holiday Traditions.”
I thought, “Yes! Let’s!”
Martha Stewart became my patron saint of Christmas in the 90’s. I forced my 18 & 19 year old friends to participate in Christmas tree decorating parties, taking them away from their usual leisure activities of drinking light beer and smoking cigarettes. I started following her recipes, I made myself lightheaded gilding nuts for topiaries. I hand painted craft paper to wrap Christmas gifts in. My mother looked at me sideways, but enthusiastically ate my chocolate layer cake with ganache filling.
Through therapy and, well, growing up, I eventually stopped searching for a replacement family or mom. But my love of Christmas has prevailed. I still take a maximalist approach with my handmade wreaths and collections of vintage Santas and reindeer festooning every surface. People often believe I inherited this love of Christmas from my mother. Which makes me laugh and laugh.
“No, no,” I say. “I am just making up for an unhappy childhood.” People almost never know whether to laugh or shoot me a pitying glance.
This is my first Christmas without my dad, and there is still so much stress and strife over my mother’s safety and well-being, with her mid-stage Alzheimer’s. I know a lot of people in similar or worse situations with their aging parents see holiday stuff as just another added burden, and I totally get that. It is a lot of work, and if you are celebrating with seniors, there are a lot of logistics you have to manage on top of it. But for me, Christmas is the best form of escape. Making 300 cookies, decorating like an elf on crack, coaxing holiday spirit out of friends and family with sing-alongs or (if all else fails) spiked egg nog, these are deep pleasures for me. A meditation. A respite from grief and having to make anxiety-producing decisions.
If you are going through it with your seniors, and every day feels like a trial to muddle through, I hope you can find a way to give yourself a little relief, too. Hopefully one a little less physically taxing. What can I say? For me, keeping busy has always been my favorite form of therapy. And I especially like keeping busy around baked goods and cups full of cheer.
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