I guess every new mom and dad faces the same dilemma at holiday time: We've got our own little family, now, and we want to start our own traditions. And, still, we want to honor our parents and their traditions.
It can be stressful.
Fortunately for me, I've got some pretty easy-going parents and a doting mother-in-law. Still the guilt and the stress remains. Above all you want everyone, especially your husband and your child, to be happy.
This year holiday plans just seemed to pile up and up. They really weren't any different from the plans of years past. It's just that, this year, we have The Boy. Above all, I do not want The Boy to be cranky for the holiday. But I saw plans with my immediate family, plans with Mr. The Working Mom's family, and plans with extended family as opportunity after opportunity to crank. Now, The Boy is an incredibly good natured little guy, but when he starts to crank, he is a full-bore master cranker not likely to fill the room with holiday cheer.
So I decided to invite everyone -- grandparents, uncles, aunt and cousin -- to our house for Christmas Eve late-lunch/early-dinner. The plan was that we would have a lovely meal, open presents, have coffee with a tasty dessert, listen to the Mister play the piano . . . . The Boy would be in his own environment and would not be wagged around the near geography in the car, minimizing the opportunities to crank. I was so pleased with the simplicity of the plan. One big celebration on Christmas Eve with our nearest and dearest. And then on Christmas Day we would go see my 94-year-old-sharp-as-a-tack grandmother and my extended family.
My Type A, organize-and-plan-everything personality was at peace.
Now, however, I sit in my living room as The Boy sleeps in the pack and play, occasionally coughing a very congested, sputtery cough. This was not part of my master plan. The pediatrician seemed to indicate this morning that he would be better, or at least on the mend, in a few days . . . . still in time for Christmas celebrations, in other words. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
So I thought I was going to take Christmas for my little family and start our own traditions. I still may be doing that, but here lies the lesson . . . one that I should have learned a thousand times over by now, with a nine and a half month old boy. Something unexpected will always come up. Plans, it seems I needed reminding, are merely suggestions when you have an infant. In the end, The Boy makes the plan, whatever it may be.
