You Can Survive the Holidays with Little Kids

If you don’t get it right on the first try, you can keep trying. In fact, you should.

Next week is Halloween, and this means we are about one trip-and-fall away from careening into The Holidays (more so a time of year than a specific observance). Full disclosure: I love the holidays. I also (obviously) love my kids. The intersection of these two great loves, however, has not always been a breeze. The arrival of babies and toddlers changes the landscape of how we celebrate, and while that may be for the best (there is nothing quite like childlike wonder, a real and contagious thing) it can also be challenging. Some quick credentials: I have, as they say, been there. My introduction to parenting babies and toddlers on the holidays was rocky at best. My first baby, now nearly five, was born on Thanksgiving 2020, in the early days of COVID, in a locked-down hospital that felt, reasonably, anything but festive. It was a veritable trial by fire to try and salvage something like cheer. We were learning how to cobble together a nap schedule while also trying to figure out if it was possible to host Christmas in the Midwest outdoors for virus mitigation (it wasn’t!). I remember feeling distinctly… sad. My former role at the holidays—enjoyer of food and drink, select-er of the perfect gift, decorator of our home—had receded into the rearview and I had become something much more complex: the keeper of the new baby, the decider of how our family would (or even could) celebrate, and the 24/7 chef, mattress, bather, and travel agent for a brand new human.

Many of you reading this will relate to the strange feeling—should we call it grief?—and discomfort that can come from adding new family members to traditions that feel almost sacred. Although change is constant, nothing brings it front and center quite like a living, breathing reminder that cries when overtired and can’t be trusted around breakables. Well-meaning friends and family can feel like adversaries when the growing pains of parenthood intrude on the established order (“what do you mean the baby naps? We’re eating at 1 pm!”) or upend it altogether (“but mom always hosts!”). If this is you, whether you are the parents of a new baby, an experienced toddler wrangler, an aunt or uncle, or even a new grandparent, I’m here with good news: it is possible to enjoy this time by leaning into the changes, and I’m going to share a little of what’s worked for us.

First, it’s worth repeating: things are going to be different. The days of bounding through your parents’ front door, kicking off your shoes, and raiding the pantry have given way to setting up a baby monitor in your childhood bedroom. This will feel a little weird, and not just for you. We are all getting older, our needs and abilities are changing. At a time of year that’s often about nostalgia, that can be unsettling. Know that some feelings of disappointment and awkwardness are normal. Rather than stomping your feet in defiance and avoiding that feeling, it’s helpful to first name it even without trying to solve it. “I used to go out with my siblings the night before Thanksgiving, and it feels weird to stay here with the baby instead. I bet it feels weird for them, too.” “Mom used to set the schedule for the day, and now I’m asking her to change it. That feels awkward, and I bet it feels awkward for her, too.” The sworn enemy of disappointment is curiosity. It’s important to remember that change is a shared experience rather than something with an agent and a victim. You—or your baby or your parents or your siblings—are not changing the holidays. The holidays have already changed, and you are all reacting to that. If you don’t get it right on the first try, you can keep trying. In fact, you should.

Second, remember that new parents are new. This is helpful for both the new parents themselves and everyone around them to remember. I now, as an experienced mom, can easily roll onto an airplane with two kids under five, a half-colored coloring book, a few changes of clothes for all of us, and a basic itinerary. When my daughter was first born, even getting her into the carseat to leave the house felt impossible. It’s hard to imagine now, but there was a time when our whole schedule was ruled by something called “wake windows” (a term marketers use to sell online courses to sleep deprived and desperate new parents). I didn’t trust myself enough yet to feel like I could handle it if something went awry, and it made it hard for us to be flexible. There is no shortcut to being an experienced parent, and no amount of berating, cajoling, pep talks, or tough love was going to get me there any faster. I am a big believer in giving new parents a lot of grace and following their lead on what they think they can handle versus what you, after years or even decades in the trenches, can handle now. This is not just because the holidays are about giving and compassion. From a self-interested standpoint, relaxed parents are easier to be around and more likely to continue coming back when they’ve gained more confidence. You are planting the seeds of future harmonious holidays if you let them win a few battles that feel silly to you now. If you are the new parent, know that if it feels too much now, it probably won’t always - do what you can and leave the rest.

Third, you don’t have to do everything, every year. There is a common adage on parenting social media that everyone in the replies is picturing a child who is 7-10 years old. What we mean by that is that when we remember our own childhoods, we are often not thinking about the earliest years. Conversely, when parents of grown children think about what they used to do or expect, they are often recalling children older than 2 or 3. Little kids both internalize little of what you do for them holiday-wise and also can developmentally handle less. Even if your parents insist they used to bring you to seven different houses every single year and you never cried or complained, it’s likely that time has smoothed the edges of these memories a lot. There were probably years where they didn’t or years where your mom spent the entire night in the guest room futilely rocking you before falling asleep without eating a single bite of cold stuffing. Neither one of you remembers this exactly as it happened, and that’s probably for the best. The point is, you can’t compare your right-now toddlers to someone’s memory of their toddlerhood, even your own. You have permission to do a lot less when kids are small, and they probably won’t notice. You can also do more when they get older, and it will still likely feel like you did it from birth. As a bonus, you can probably even tell them when they’re in their thirties that you don’t remember a time when you didn’t buy a real, live Christmas tree and you all might believe it. Holidays are more myth than reality, and that’s not a bad thing. Do what you can, and know someday you’ll think you did it perfectly no matter how it actually went.

Fourth, kids are people and not aesthetic. The idea of having children running around at the holidays often dramatically outpaces the reality. Most small children really do believe in magic, and it’s marvelous to behold. Those same babies often express joy as overwhelm, and will dissolve into a puddle of tears if they have too much fun. It is so easy to feel frustrated with them, especially when you are used to holidays feeling easy and relaxed. The best advice I can give you is to look at them with clear eyes and expectations. Know that the things you think will make them light up may have the opposite effect and, cliche as it is, try to keep a sense of humor when they spend more time playing with the wrapping paper than the toy. Pick your battles (do they really need the itchy sweater?) and keep the pace relaxed. Remember that they are not there for anyone’s entertainment but rather as family and friends in their own right, with their own opinions and preferences and desires. Your children may not love the things you used to love, and this is not a rejection but rather an opportunity to sew a new patch in the metaphorical quilt that is your celebration.

Finally, the difference between a beloved tradition and a big disappointment is often about three years. Did you know I started ordering pizza on Christmas Eve because I just needed a second to regroup? Before my son was born, I would often cook an elaborate meal on Christmas Eve as a precursor to my holiday menu (which I also painstakingly assembled). I would also bake my grandma’s holiday cookies, a task that for even one batch required making homemade date jam, then rolling, cutting, chilling, and baking two different doughs. It felt unthinkable to me to not do that, but one year the kids’ school had closed for flu in the weeks leading up to the holiday, they’d gotten sick shortly after, and I was miserably behind. When my husband suggested dramatically paring down the menu and ordering pizza from a place a few neighborhoods over on Cleveland’s west side, I felt indignant. Me, with my army of cookbooks, ordering pizza on Christmas Eve? But the promise of taking our then-3-year-old out of the house to give me just a little breathing room for last-minute wrapping and maybe even a hot cup of coffee was too tempting. We now—all of us!—look forward to this and even enjoy cold pizza and store-bought Christmas cookies for Christmas breakfast. I may make the insane date cookies again someday, who knows, but I am never giving up the pizza.

This story is a gift you can unwrap over and over when you feel like something you cared about was “ruined” by change. It’ll maybe keep you going for the three-ish years it will take to turn your very own disappointments into fun stories. I am wishing you and your children—and grandchildren, nieces, nephews, neighbors, and more—happy holidays. Soak up that childlike wonder while you can, and remember that if all else fails most pizza places are open until about 3pm on December 24.