Friends, it’s not that I dislike the holidays; I just find them to be rather unremarkable. I’m not one for sentimentality, and I generally operate on a “bare minimum” philosophy. If it involves any planning, decorating, or special food prep beyond merely showing up and handing over cash, there’s a 99% chance it just won’t happen.
I’ll dodge a Secret Santa or a white elephant exchange whenever I can! (And yes, I’m not above using my kids and partner as an excuse to back out.) Most celebrations feel forced and cliché to me, and I find that obligatory cheer and gratitude clash with my preferred style of sarcasm and cynicism.
Let’s be honest: all these holiday standards are absurd. Plus, I’m simply exhausted. The demands of parenting seem to transform mundane tasks into extravagant events. I appreciate the magic in everyday life, but why does that have to mean more work for me? (Sure, my husband could help, but let’s be realistic.)
If it were up to me, we wouldn’t bother with a tree (ours is still up from last year, so there’s that), we wouldn’t exchange gifts (which we don’t), and we wouldn’t hang lights (also still up). We wouldn’t even take pictures with Santa (by the way, my kids know Santa isn’t real). Visiting family during peak holiday times? No thanks—why not during quieter periods?
Seasonal decorating? Not at my place. I don’t understand the whole mantle or front porch decor trend. First, I lack the storage for all that stuff (yes, I mean that literally), and second, even if I had room, I wouldn’t want it.
Stuff does not equal wonder. And why do we equate rampant consumerism with joy? Buying multiple Christmas trees or emptying the Target décor aisle doesn’t guarantee that kids are having fun or making great memories. Conversely, my low-key approach doesn’t mean my kids are miserable. In fact, I would argue that having too much stuff creates more stress. Why else would methods like KonMari be so popular in our cluttered lives?
My kids are not missing out. They’re just fine! Even though my husband and I don’t buy them gifts, they still receive plenty from their grandparents. My mom always showers them with presents, and my late mother-in-law spoiled them to the point that we’re still digging through her gifts years later. She even sent them four of everything to avoid fights—one year, that included four pairs of stilts. Hilarious, right?
And even though I’ve agreed with my brother to skip gifts, he insists on sending my kids something every year, which forces me to reciprocate. I’d much prefer to deposit cash directly into their accounts, but I get it—kids love unwrapping gifts.
Before you label me a Grinch, know that my reasons are practical. With four kids, just the gifts from their grandmothers and my brother add at least 12 extra toys to our home. Throw in birthday gifts (which I also don’t give), and we’re looking at around 24 to 36 new toys each year in an already cramped space.
Honestly, my kids hardly notice the lack of excess gifts unless they’re around kids with a mountain of presents. Why? Because every day feels like a holiday for them. They usually get what they want. Plus, they often have more fun playing with the giant boxes the toys come in than with the toys themselves, turning them into dinosaurs, Among Us characters, and even sledding down the stairs in them. (Creative? Yes. Wise? Not so much.)
Let me do my bare minimum in peace. I don’t resent those who go all out for the holidays; I have friends who do countdowns to Christmas, cookie exchanges, and all that. I’m genuinely happy for them and their families, while also relieved it’s not happening in my house.
So, if I can find it within my cold, Grinch-like heart to appreciate my friends who revel in holiday cheer, please let me enjoy my minimalistic approach. And who knows? Maybe in another life, I’ll just be a rock.
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Summary
In this candid reflection, the author shares their laid-back approach to the holidays, emphasizing a preference for simplicity over the typical festive chaos. They argue that excess does not equate to joy and that their children are not deprived despite a lack of traditional holiday gifts. Instead, they highlight the importance of creativity and everyday magic. Ultimately, they advocate for a minimalist lifestyle during the holidays, finding contentment in doing the bare minimum while respecting those who embrace the holiday spirit.