Dear Mom,
I often find myself marveling at how you juggled the chaos of Christmas as a single mother of six. It’s only December 11, and I’m already feeling the holiday hustle wear me down.
You frequently say, “I don’t know how you handle it all,” but honestly, Mom, having a small army of kids in the house during the holidays while working full-time is a feat that’s beyond my comprehension. You managed to create a festive atmosphere every year, all without the conveniences of the Internet to help you.
This realization struck me last night as I lay in bed, mentally sorting through my lengthy holiday to-do list. Suddenly, the sheer superhero nature of your December routine felt clearer than ever. Here’s how I see it:
December 1
Me: I have my two kids draft their wish lists for Santa, followed by a few hours of writing assignments from home. I hit the online stores, take a quick trip to Target, and manage to wrap up most of my shopping. My evening is filled with homework help and dance classes, but I’m feeling accomplished, ready for the packages to arrive over the coming weeks.
You: You tackle six unique Christmas lists from your kids before dropping us off at two different schools, then rushing to your office job. Lunchtime finds you speed-shopping at the mall, squeezing in a 45-minute sprint to grab gifts. After work, you shuttle us to endless soccer and football practices, attempt to tackle your shopping list, and whip up dinner for all seven of us. Then, it’s late nights spent sneaking presents into every corner of our already full house, knowing we’ll be on the hunt for them come Christmas morning.
December 15
Me: At this point, we’ve made a quick visit to Home Depot for a modest Christmas tree and a few supplies. Our evening is cozy, just us four, as we trim the tree and sip hot cocoa. I’ve finished most of my kids’ gifts, so I can focus on finding thoughtful presents for friends and teachers to express my gratitude.
You: You skip the friend and teacher gifts—who has the time? You brave the local Christmas tree lot, somehow managing to find a tree that satisfies all six of us without breaking the bank. You stay up late each night, wrapping gifts and organizing presents, all while making sure no kid feels left out. Amidst this, you find time for holiday baking with us, wrangling and cheering us on while we bicker over who gets the last sprinkle. It all feels like a scene from a classic holiday movie, with your favorite tunes playing in the background, even as you juggle parties, school programs, and last-minute shopping.
December 24
Me: I book us a nice dinner at our favorite spot for Christmas Eve, because honestly, I’m wiped out after endless holiday functions. We’ll enjoy some good food, drive around admiring the lights, and settle in for a cozy night of cookies and milk for Santa, wrapping everything up with a cocktail by the fire.
You: While we enjoy our day, you’re in the kitchen preparing a feast for the family, combining last-minute gift wrapping with a frantic grocery run because you forgot a few key items. You struggle to get all six of us to bed, feeling exhausted, yet you stay up half the night arranging gifts under the tree and stuffing stockings. Somehow, you pull everything together by Christmas morning, delivering personalized gifts for each of us and filling our hearts with the true spirit of the season.
You manage all of this with a smile, little sleep, and hardly a complaint, embodying the courage and determination of a woman who creates a beautiful holiday for her family. And yet, I know you often spend the day alone while we are with our dad, a sacrifice you make without ever seeking recognition.
I realize now that you might brush off my admiration, saying you did what you had to do. Maybe you don’t see the monumental effort as I do, or perhaps the joy of the season eclipsed the exhaustion you faced. But please know that I haven’t forgotten.
As I rush through my own holiday preparations, I’ll strive to embrace the warmth and joy you instilled in us, passing on that same magic to my children. Merry Christmas, Mom!