Christmas has not happened the way I’d hoped. I suppose I could have seen this coming all the way back in October when I returned to work from maternity leave: things will not be as they were. Or rather, things are the same but with several added layers of chaos. Not only do I have a baby, but I also still commute two hours to and from work every day. I am still exhausted. And there is still so very little time. Despite my most optimistic intentions, I did not carve out new writing habits or touch my projects. It’s quite easy to feel like a failure in that regard, let alone factoring in Christmas.

It didn’t slow down in November. Baby’s inevitable exposure to daycare germs meant that we were sick much of that month. Dan had sinus surgery on the 18th. Baby was still getting up once or twice in the night. We were all either sick or recovering. Thanksgiving was over in a flash. Under these conditions Christmas successfully sprang out at us from around the corner and tackled us to the ground.

Dan and I did not drive to Chicago through a blizzard and a -40 degree wind-chill, as we did on our first Christmas adventure. We did encounter (run of the mill) turbulence: going to work, picking up baby from daycare, striving for a full night’s sleep. Visions of shortbread, spritz cookies, almond bark-pretzel-m&m snacks, and almond crescents went unfulfilled this year. We were late getting to Christmas lists and card making, which means some of them are still in transit. We did not spend nearly as much time as we might have at Christmas dinner with family because the little one had reached his limit. But it was still Christmas, and it was still a good Christmas. Because had our little guy and our little family.

The key to enjoying this season–not just surviving it–is making the most of what we have. We inherited my parents’ artificial Christmas tree–honestly, we might not have had time to buy one ourselves–and decorated it. We made a simple yet decadent Christmas Eve meal of French onion soup and Gruyère with sherry. I realized that the gifts and cards are still in transit are not necessarily “late”; they’re arriving well within the traditional Twelve Days. Who doesn’t like to receive a bit of cheer after Christmas? We received a literal ton of sweet treats from family that should make up for all my best and loftiest intentions.

Baking is usually my creative activity of choice in December, but this year, I had more success making ornaments for the tree. It requires less time and less hassle. It is a personal tradition. Back in 2020, the day in fact that Dax came home with me, I was attaching tiny paper baubles to earring hooks for Christmas gifts.

(Above, bauble ornaments on my tiny apartment tree… and the kitten who discovered them, Dec 2020.)

Another year I came across a kit for making folded paper ornaments and used the template to create my own. Realizing that they were basically 20-sided die or icosahedrons, I gifted them as d-20s to my Dungeons and Dragons pals. This year I had the almost primal urge to cut and fold and glue again, to cure my creative deficiency. (Like a vitamin deficiency.) I even made an innovation this year: a half-size template and put together little icosahedrons for the tree.

I did all of this upstairs at the kitchen table. Crafting of any kind in my office with the cats is not advisable as Dax perceives pretty much everything as a toy–thread, ribbons, glue sticks, baubles, etc. Having had this chance to create, I feel better than I have in months. And I won’t necessarily stop just because we’re on the other side of Christmas.

(Above, ornaments from this year: icosahedrons small and large, stars and round baubles made from punch cut-outs,)

Most importantly is the gift of having time, a gift to myself. I took this week off from work for the sake of my sanity. Until I can find a job in Omaha, rest and self-care need to be the priority. That includes being creative in ways I did not anticipate.

And this is the perfect time. The baby is at daycare, Dan is also off and enjoying himself with gaming (Cyberpunk). I am finally here in the basement with the cats, writing this post with Dax asleep on the cat bed beside me. Bea is in the kitty cave in the corner making soft little snores. Perhaps this can be the start of better habits in the new year… but, please, let’s not frame everything on terms of resolutions… which were dreamed up by marketers hoping to sell planners and weight loss programs…

So, this isn’t the Christmas I’d envisioned. But it is the Christmas I needed… letting out of things to make room for what matters. It will be a slow process of “getting back” to any sense of normal. Maybe normal will continue to change under my feet. But as long as I keep trying, I’ll feel like myself. I don’t need to focus on “progress,” but on being where I am in this season of life.

🎄