Does Anyone Else Have ‘Decoration Guilt’?

I haven’t put up the tree yet. So I said,

A few weeks ago, as I was driving home from Thanksgiving weekend, I couldn’t believe how many windows were already lit up with the glow of a giant Christmas tree. Am I the only one who spent the day driving down I-95 with a car full of leftovers and a slightly cranky family? I thought I had at least another week to switch into merry mode. I felt the first pang of my annual decorating guilt and quickly took my last breath. Not this yearI remembered. we ignore that tradition.

Decorating is not my forte. I’m good at other holidays. I make it in large quantities every December. cookie dough Store it in the freezer so you can bake it fresh every night. I keep a list of gift ideas on my phone and update them throughout the year. But when it comes to decorating the hall, I have no skills at all. Garlands fall down, tree lights die, and I’m always weeks behind everyone else.

When I moved in with Harry (my then boyfriend and now husband) he suggested I skip trees altogether. Harry was born in Soviet-era Bulgaria. He loved Christmas very much. He didn’t fuss about decorations. “Wouldn’t it be less stressful if that didn’t happen?” Yes, I told him. And if he suggests Christmas without a tree again, I’ll break the deal and walk out. That very day, we went to the tree stand and did our usual sloppy job of putting on the lights. The next morning, when she came outside, she found that Harry had carefully adjusted the strands, making sure they were evenly distributed so that they were perfectly distributed throughout the branches.

“Thank you,” I murmured. This guy grew up in a country without Santa, so even he was good at decorating.

I’ve always been shy about my decorating talent, but I’ve never felt that way. guilty Until I became a parent. When our daughter Margot was born, holiday festivities became more than just fun. It was about making memories and filling her childhood with magic. When I went tree shopping that year, I got the biggest fir that would fit in my apartment. I didn’t even ask about the price before they put it together. That’s the story of how I accidentally spent $400 on a Christmas tree. plus tip. For newborns.

I’d like to say that I was shocked in a way at that moment, but sadly the hilarity only grew stronger. I learned to check prices, but I still found myself wanting to buy something sparkly every year, or better yet, make some. Last year, I stayed up until after 1 a.m. on a weeknight, waiting for the orange slices I was slowly drying in the oven to dry enough to tie into a wreath. In the end, all but three slices were either burnt or sticky, or both. I’m not Marmee, I’m just Mom!

I consoled myself that I was good at other things. But still, I was disappointed that the only decoration we had was a small (albeit affordable) tree with no garlands. Meanwhile, Harry was killing it on the holiday magic front, despite his lukewarm feelings. On Christmas Eve, he spontaneously designs a mailing label from the North Pole and turns Margot’s present into a package from Santa.

Can you believe that man? By hand!

So as fall approached this year, I braced myself for another season of decorating guilt. When I was almost resigned to feeling like a seasonal failure, believe it or not, Instagram Reels took me out of that feeling.

One day when I was scrolling, this reel from Chelsea Fagan — an author best known for his financial literacy content — festivals and decorations. I was surprised. It suddenly felt so obvious. It was like one of those optical illusion pictures where if you tilt your head, the rabbit turns into a duck.

Wreaths are not a festival. Wrapping paper is not a celebration. Twinkling lights are really beautiful, but they aren’t what create memories. people Do it in a million ways and for a million reasons. For some, Christmas is about family and unity, for others it is about faith and worship, and of course for many others it is someone else’s holiday.

From now on, I’m going to focus on all the magic we create together, instead of beating myself up with the guilt of embellishment. I think my daughter remembers making dirty cookies with me on school nights. She’ll remember the three of us spinning around listening to cheesy Christmas pop tunes or watching movies in a cozy pile on the couch. Do you know what she will never remember? That $400 tree. But we all remember the story.

And I’m not here to decorate poop. I just feel guilty. decoration teeth A festival when held in a festive mood. One of my favorite memories was decorating Margot’s second Christmas tree. She just turned one year old and was climbing everything. I really wanted to help. It was chaotic, hilarious, and a mess, and I think about it every holiday season. But what I remember is her baby curls and round cheeks looking back at me on the stepladder. Yes, the lights are really pretty. But those aren’t the magic parts.

A PS 10 holiday ritual, and the funniest and easiest game to play before dinner.