Stop Comparing and Make Your Own Holiday Magic

My mom disliked The Easter Bunny. I’m not certain if she felt disdain for the absurdity of an over sized bunny who leaves gifts or if the commercialization of a holiday commemorating that Christ is Risen bothered her. Whatever the reason, we always knew there was no Easter Bunny. We still looked forward to decorating hard boiled eggs, donning fancy dresses and bonnets, and discovering a basket of treats Easter morning, accompanied by one simple gift. We didn’t tell other kids the truth about the bunny and it didn’t bother me that others believed in him.

Mom wasn’t on a mission to eradicate The Easter Bunny from other homes, nor did she look down on families who welcomed him. Our family’s holiday celebrations were based on a variety of factors: tradition, budget, weather, and my parent’s interests. We always decorated hard boiled eggs and my parents hid them inside the house for us to find on an invariably rainy Washington Easter Sunday. I remember looking forward to making “bunny cakes” of coconut and candy to deliver a bit of spring to our friends. To this day, I still dream of Candbury Eggs and Sweet Tart Chicks and Bunnies when Easter nears.

Kids Remember the Experience

While I remember fervently hoping to discover a specific toy in my basket some years, I couldn’t name a single one today. But I can close my eyes and remember how Easter felt; the way it smelled; the sound of my sisters’ laughter as we competed for eggs; the vision of my family dressed for church in a flurry of frills and ribbons; the look on my father’s face surrounded by his treasured girls. I also remember the sweetness of the message that He Lives, resonating with me at a young age, then gradually growing within me as I came to understand sorrow, grief, pain, and what the promise of a new day truly meant.

Preserving the Magic

Place my mom into motherhood in the technological age and she might have blogged or pinned our adventures; sharing the dresses she most likely sewed, the rolls lovingly made from her mother’s recipe, the decorations she created, and the sweet song sung by her daughters at church. People who know mom would see in all of this the child-like delight that lights her eyes during the holidays, they’d know about the decorative lights my parents purchased to illuminate every holiday after my father’s cancer diagnosis, and they’d recognize the loving care she put into creating a bit of magic a few times of year for her girls.

Unrealistic Expectations?

But others, unfamiliar with the sweetness of our traditions, might see something different. In the cloak of anonymity that is the internet, caught up in their own insecurities and prejudices, they might say:

• When did it become necessary to hang lights for every holiday? Can you say over the top? I barely got around to window clings and now my kids see bunnies blinking in the neighbor’s windows.
• Homemade Easter dresses? Who has time to sew these?
• There won’t be any candy in my kid’s baskets this year. Do you know what’s in that stuff?

When did Easter become so commercialized? Do we really need to fill our homes with bunnies and chicks and have baskets overflowing with candy?

Making My Own Holiday Magic

I don’t celebrate Easter exactly like my family did, but I carry on some of the traditions. The Easter Bunny actually shows up here on Saturdays to separate the secular from sacred. We don’t have many decorations, but we always hang the window clings my mom mails our way. I organize a family Easter Egg hunt outdoors with candy-filled eggs and strive for modestly priced Easter baskets. My daughter and I dress in our Easter best and wear hats. My kids look forward to our traditions every year, delighting in the experience over any particular gift or activity.

What I want to create on this holiday – and more increasingly every holiday throughout the year – is that value of experience over things for my family. I want to capture that magical feeling my mom created for us. In my own way, I’m stringing lights for every occasion, recognizing that today is precious and we all  need to escape reality into a world of wonder periodically. Sometimes this means an extra craft project, other times it’s a special treat I make with my kids, and other holidays it means a Leprechaun creates a candy trail to green cupcakes after escaping a trap that entertained my children for hours in the making.

• In all of this, there can be that annoying habit of looking around, wondering if I’m doing enough, or conversely worrying that it’s too much. I could get lost in all of this or I can enjoy the moment just as it is.
• I could torture myself comparing myself to perfect creations on Pinterest, or I can see them as an idea springboard.
• I could seethe in frustration at the excess of my neighbors, the myths taught my children by teachers, the comparing my children might do, or  I can recognize it as an opportunity for a discussion about what makes families special and unique.
• I could look at others and make assumptions and judgments about their choices or I can let them celebrate in their own way, stop comparing, and make my own magic.

More than anything, I celebrate holidays in our home, hoping that my children will grow up remembering that feeling, appreciating what makes their family special, and stringing their own magical lights of tradition.