Last year, my family had a strange holiday season. We all
got the flu. Our oven broke on Thanksgiving. We didn’t go Christmas shopping
until a few days before the holiday, and then spent late nights trying to pull
everything together at the last minute. By January 1, my husband and I were
physically and emotionally exhausted, and almost grateful the whole thing was
behind us.
As a parent, it was difficult to accept that the time of
year that was supposed to be so magical was not, in fact, all that special for
our family. My husband and I promised each other that next year would be
better.
Then, the year flew by. As November rolled in, memories of
last year’s Griswold-esque holidays started to flash through my mind. I am now
a woman determined to give my kids the best season yet. In a spurt of activity
fueled by a refusal to repeat last year’s mistakes, my husband and I managed to
plan for Thanksgiving, complete all the Christmas shopping, and schedule
numerous family events by mid-month. We made a list of all the fun activities
we can attend in the next six weeks, and just like Santa himself, I’ll be
keeping it close and checking it often. I have to admit, I’m pretty excited. I
have a feeling all our hard work will pay off, and that this will be a fantastic
holiday season.
But just to be on the safe side, I think we’ll cook the
turkey the day before Thanksgiving this year…
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