I've been in the thick of near-holiday overload these last few days. I’m feeling the Christmas spirit and thankful for simple things like peppermint-scented candles and Christmas music on the car radio. Yet, at the same time, I’m fretting with low-grade anxiety about estimated delivery dates and the state of my bank account (Note to self: Save more money! Shop earlier next year!)

I also wonder - and don’t laugh - who is wearing all those glittery, sequined tops I see in the stores. My style, even during the Christmas season, is casual, and although I love sparkly sh*t, I feel silly wearing it. It looks stylish on others but makes me look like a chunky, aging Solid Gold dancer. Is it weird that I have no idea what it’s like to face the fashion dilemma of what to wear during the holiday party season because I’m lazy and always end up slapping on a red sweater and my favorite jeans? Thank goodness I don’t have to attend any FANCY dinner parties and closet-muse my way through a season of THAT, but maybe I should aspire to do better fashionwise in 2025?

Also, things are different this year regarding parenting and grandparenting over the holidays. Twenty or so years ago, Bill and I were parents of a small child, and the holiday season was wondrous and exciting. Then we hit the teenage years, and it went like this: Pumpkin farms? No way. Tree-decorating: Boring. Hot chocolate and shopping at the local mall? Can I go to the arcade? That was followed by the college years when family rituals and once-beloved traditions crumbled to dust, and Justin was like: Can you just give me money?

That era was hard on me. I knew it was coming, but I was still thrown off-kilter by it. When you’re amid the magic and mayhem of the little-kid years, you understand on some level that it won’t last forever, but the reality sneaks up on you. One day, you realize that some moments are lost forever in the world of memories: The last time trick-or-treating, the last time wearing matching Christmas jammies, the last time believing Santa Claus is real.

But what happens when you throw a two-year-old granddaughter into the mix? Not only do you revive those old family traditions, you start new ones. Yes, it’s not like it used to be. For example, you can no longer sit on the floor without your joints sounding like a crackling fire, but you can play your grandparent card and feed your grandkids sugar-laden treats all afternoon if you desire.

“It goes so fast!” was such an unhelpful thing to be told as a parent of a young child when you’re, say, publicly battling a screaming, thrashing toddler while they smack you repeatedly with a well-aimed sippy cup, but god, it does go fast. It goes faster with every year, and time is both a gift and a thief. It does not leave you where it found you, for good and bad.

One afternoon, you find yourself with a screeching, kicking grandchild, and although it is annoying, you’re calmer and laugh through the tantrum because you’re not a harried, exhausted parent. You’re actually thankful to have had that moment.

I am trying to be glad for what was and appreciate what is here and now because it won’t be the same next year or the year after. Plus, I now have a buddy who loves watching the semi-creepy Grinch, which makes my heart two sizes bigger because I enjoy the quirkiness in that little girl. What other two-year-old LOVES the Grinch?

Still, a sense of loss seeps through among the twinkle lights and stockings. My youth is gone, and the clock is ticking louder. Gah…I hate to say that, but things become more REAL in your sixties, and you have a better sense of time, or the lack thereof, in your life. But overall, we are very lucky to experience Christmas with a little again. And for that, I am grateful.

May This Christmas Season Bring You Joy and Happiness

It’s Time To Switch From My Normal Anxiety to My Festive Holiday Anxiety