A Mom's Year

One of the nice things about moving to Bainbridge Island is that we’re closer to Lily’s godfather, Arun, and his family, who have a home just across the Puget Sound in Snoqualmie. We met Arun when he and Tim worked together in Minnesota years ago (Lexie was a baby) and we quickly grew to love the entire family, which includes Arun’s wife, Alraune, and her parents, Abhijit and Ranita.

A few months after we moved to Bainbridge, we went out to dinner with the Kothanath/Chowdhury crew. Alraune had taken a job in the Netherlands and she was cheerfully telling us about their new apartment and how different it was from American apartments. Apparently, there weren’t a lot of closets so she had to store her clothes all over the place. She laughed as she described getting a shirt here, pants there, and a scarf in yet another room.

There’s always that moment when you feel the first frisson of excitement. It might happen when you hear a few strains of a Christmas song in a shop or when you see a car driving down the road with a tree tied on top. It might be when you bring out the first box of decorations from the attic or bake the first batch of Christmas cookies. Whatever it is, you know the excitement will continue to build throughout December with every ornament hung, gift purchased, and carol sung.

I come from a family that gets carried away with Christmas. On both sides. My grandmas’ Christmas preparations would’ve given Mrs. Claus a run for her money. They sewed, baked, knit, shopped, cooked, decorated, and entertained their way merrily through December, supported by husbands, children, friends, and relatives delighted to share in the excitement. No one was at all surprised when I wrote a Christmas book; it probably seemed inevitable after being raised with so much jollity.

At this point in 2020, I think most of us have heard it said that while we’re all in the same storm, we’re not all in the same boat. That’s true even within families. For lots of reasons, some of us are struggling more than others. But a pandemic is a force to be reckoned with and I know I can’t fix everything for my kids. So how can I best support them and help them find peace in a world that’s filled with social distancing, fear, upended plans, and so many unknowns?

We have a magnet on the refrigerator that says, “Peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.” I’ve always liked that description of peace because my life choices have led to a lot of extra noise and hard work. I mean, I have four kids and two big dogs. It’s bonkers around here and there’s no sign it’ll be letting up any time soon. And I’m cool with that. But the “trouble” part is a completely different animal.

I thought our big move to Bainbridge Island four years ago and the subsequent reworking of our Christmas traditions was challenging. We went from multiple celebrations that teetered at times on the edge of overwhelming (in sheer volume and number) but were unquestionably full of Christmas cheer and goodwill, to quieter rituals that, while more intentional in nature, sometimes felt like ghosts of their former selves. Little did we know what was waiting for us in 2020.

And so we find ourselves having to whittle down the already whittled-down traditions to versions that would be unrecognizable to us in the days of yore. Christmas shopping is mostly online, there are no parties, no visitors, no concerts, and the sing-alongs will be virtual. Gifts sent to far-off friends and family will contain pre-packaged treats instead of homemade.