Christmas traditions almost sucked the spirit out of me

When our first child was born, my husband and I decided that we wanted our own family traditions. The kind that our children would talk fondly about and remember each year. Maybe even pass to their own family.

It sounded and felt so magical.

Creating traditions

We talked about the kinds of things we wanted to do. Christmas Eve pajamas while reading The Night Before Christmas ...

I think the vision in my head was me playing the piano and everyone in my family gathering around and singing and laughing. Someone would be wearing a sweater vest and another person would be sipping scotch.

I am sure you can see where this is going.

It wasn't that easy and it wasn't that pretty. I don't even have a piano that works. I don't even play the piano. I play the flute. For some reason, I can't imagine my family gathering around while I play the flute.

The Formative Years

Those first years with our children were magical and so chaotic. We ran from family gathering to family gathering.

Presents. People. Pies. Kiss the baby. Squeeze in a nap. No, Great Uncle xxxxx, I am not ready for another child.

It wasn't that magical. I don't even want to admit this, but it wasn't that enjoyable.

I found myself dreading the chaos. I didn't want to cook a bunch of food. I didn't want to drag home a bunch of new toys. I didn't want to travel. I didn't want to buy the wrong gift. I didn't want to forget one of our traditions.

I wanted sleep. In my own bed. On my "days off". Let's not forget ... Mom and Dad are Santa, and that is not an easy job.

The holidays never failed me In the annoyance category, that is.

Some crazy person (me) would always decide it's a great idea to suggest photos. Preserve this moment. In the name of traditions.

And I tried so hard. To keep smiling. To create those traditions. To enjoy the moment. Sometimes I did.

The mere suggestion of pictures can send an entire family into a frenzy. Everyone is b$%ching about it and making the same old jokes about breaking the camera. Uncle XXXX gives your kids candy canes (on purpose).

Before you even snap the photo, you are looking for alcohol to ease the edge in your voice. Instead you find your spouse. He has already indulged and assumed you are the driver. You don't even get mad because it was a smart move.

Then you get home. Exhausted. Kids are in bed. You climb in too. Then, you realize that your daughter is going to want to wear that fancy dress again at the NEXT family event tomorrow (holidays are about family, right?). And, in the spirit of traditions, you buy her this fancy, expensive dress each year to parade around in -- and she loves it.

And that darn Elf. He needs to be moved as well or else the Christmas Spirit will be gone forever.

Out of bed you crawl to save your traditions and your financial investment in fancy dresses. Grumbling to yourself to enjoy the moment ... enjoy the holidays ... enjoy every freaking tradition.

(And, then you search your photos for a picture of this dress and all you can find are pictures of everyone in their pajamas. And you say, "What the hell? I will use this photo of me in my robe because everyone is smiling.")

At this point, traditions don't sound so great

They sound awful actually. They don't sound like something that make the holidays special. They make you cranky. They simply become expectations. You feel like adding them to your to-do list along with "make cranberry sauce." And that Elf ....

And then it happens Suddenly, your children are six and four and Christmas is magical. They are potty-trained. They can miss a nap here and there. They want to decorate the tree. They want hot chocolate and Christmas music. They are writing Christmas lists for Santa and they are waking up to find that adorable, loving, (I'm sorry I hated you!) Elf.

They say things like, "Mom, remember last year when ..." and you realize that all those things add up to an amazing experience for them.

My Christmas Memories

One of the best gifts we have received was a Christmas Memories journal. It has a few pages for each year for 20 years. You write down little tidbits about the season. What you did. What you ate. Where you went. Exciting presents.

And in between the conversations with your children about the season, reading the journal entries and moving the Elf into a new location, you realize that your Christmas traditions have fallen into place.

And you smile. A tired, happy smile.

What traditions keep your Christmas spirit alive?