At Christmastime I most notice the changing shapes of things. We are gathered for Christmas lunch. My grandma is in her favorite over-the-knee tweed skirt and the high-necked powder-blue blouse she saves for best. She’s not really with it these days, puttering in the margins of dementia, but she’s here today. She moved in next door a few years back, when it got to be too much to live in a big old house up north all by herself.
I’m fourteen, still learning to navigate my teenage years amid all the messy hair crises and burden of self-consciousness. My older brother is sixteen, as big as the doorframe, and trying to hide his excitement behind those moody bangs. My younger brother is just eight years old. He’s the reason we still send our Christmas lists up the chimney, put out carrots for Rudolph, and hang out stockings in hope. Of course, he knows and probably does it for me really. I appreciate that.
My mother is in the kitchen, hands in fat oven gloves holding a tray of roast potatoes. Crispy on the outside, fluffy as dreams in the middle. Cheeks pink from the heat, or the pride, she’s glad her brood isn’t bickering today. On the one day of the year we’re allowed to eat anything we want, all we want is Christmas dinner. Dad carves. I stand at the stone dividing wall between the kitchen and the dining space, ready to deliver the steaming promise to the table, which is laid carefully with a green cloth and candles.
I pause for a moment and take in the scene. My beloved grandma, snuffling under her party hat as the sherry takes effect. She won’t be in that chair for many more dinners, and I wonder what she is thinking. My brothers act cool, but they are not too cool for Christmas. Soon we’ll have our heads in exams, then be off to university and into our own lives, with boyfriends and girlfriends and spouses and children of our own. I watch Mum and Dad laughing about something, blurred at the edges by the cloud of steam from the turkey, and think that they won’t always be this young. I wonder if they feel the shifting shape of the family, too.
I can’t wait to grow up, yet I already want the rushing years to slow down. The unknowns and invitations of adult life are calling, but they can wait… for now. Because I want to be here, with these people, in this house, with this food. Today, at least. Together.
A calm Christmas does not have to be a small Christmas or even a quiet Christmas. Rather, it is one where you remove your known stressors, let go of perfection, and focus on what really matters to you. You might need to shave away a few traditions here, tweak some plans there, and spread out your social events. But doing so will help you achieve a better balance without missing out on the parts of Christmas you love most.
Much of the stress at this time of year comes from being pulled in many different directions and taking on the pressure of hosting at the end of a long year. One route to a calmer Christmas is to begin with some real honesty about who you want to spend time with. Then you can consider what type of gathering will allow you to connect properly, catch up, and show them how much you care. You might want to make space for moments alone with certain individuals, outside of group events. If you don’t have the energy to host a large gathering, you could ask others to share the load, or attend someone else’s event.
Imagine that everyone you care about is gathered in a hall, decked out for the season. Now picture two large, overlapping circles on the floor, like a giant Venn diagram. Escort all the people you really want to see in person over Christmas into the circle on the left. Next, think about everyone with whom you want to exchange gifts, and picture them gathering in the circle on the right.
If there is anyone you want to both spend time with and exchange gifts with, envisage them moving to the center, where the two circles overlap.
If there is anyone left cheerfully milling around the edges of the two circles, glass of mulled wine in hand, perhaps, those are the people you can simply acknowledge or remember this year, perhaps with a Christmas card, a phone call, or even just a toast.
Of course, you care about all of these people and want to let them know it in some way. But the more people you place inside the circles, the more stressful your Christmas is likely to be, as you try to accommodate everyone.
Depending on your family dynamics, budget, and energy levels, you may be able to reduce Christmas stress by:
All Christmas gatherings are not created equal. There are myriad ways to get together, with groups of various sizes in different places and spaces. It doesn’t have to be all about partying, although it can be. With a little planning, you can even turn essential preparations into gatherings, and share the load in the process. And remember to leave some room for spontaneity. Some of the best gatherings are impromptu, last-minute affairs, but you need to be sufficiently relaxed and flexible to enjoy them.
Try to spend at least a few hours with each of the individuals who mean the most to you over the holidays. One of my favorite Christmas excursions was just me and my mum (and a bunch of strangers) singing carols in a candlelit cave in the Derbyshire village of Hope. We traveled by train, got lost, found our way with the help of some friendly locals, and ended up deep inside a mountain singing “Silent Night.”
Use this sacred time to do something simple but special that will enable you to reconnect with each other. Go ice-skating, see the Christmas lights being switched on in your town, dig out your old turntable and play some records, volunteer at a soup kitchen, make something, or just have a long, intimate conversation.
If you can manage to carve out this special time with each of those you love, you are less likely to feel as if your whole Christmas has been hijacked, regardless of any obligations to host or attend events.
I’m six years old and careful with the big knife as I try to spread a layer of raspberry jam onto the heavy fruit cake. “That’s right,” Mum says kindly, even though I’m having little success. I then layer on the thick yellow marzipan, loving the feel of it—a bit like Play-Doh—as I push it over the rim of the cake. I break off a bit and snaffle it while Mum is reaching into the drawer for her rolling pin. If she sees, she doesn’t say.
We drape a raft of royal icing over the top, then wrap around a long golden ribbon, and finish it off with a sprig of holly.
Food is the axis around which Christmas spins for most of us. Everyone has their festive favorites: bacon stolen off the top of the turkey; the annual batch of homemade limoncello; clove-studded ham with spiced red cabbage; poached eggs on biscuits; cookies; smoked salmon; rabbit with potato dumplings; eggnog; mulled cider and wine; Grandma’s cranberry sauce; the mother-in-law’s mac and cheese; mushroom Wellington; and many more.
Holiday food is a source of pride and an expression of love, while Christmas dinner is probably the most anticipated meal of the year.
Centuries ago, long before refrigerators and mass-produced food, winter was a lean and challenging time. Nevertheless, feasting has always been an integral part of the holidays, with luxury versions of staples served up alongside special cuts of meat and other centerpieces, all lovingly prepared. The Irish Countrywomen’s Association Book of Christmas is full of tales of puddings and cakes made well in advance and then sent, wrapped in greaseproof paper, on trains and boats all over the world.1 One member even tells of a whole turkey sent from Tipperary to London, wrapped in pages from the Wicklow People newspaper. Food was—and still is—a central part of Christmas for many of us. If cooking up a huge traditional dinner for your entire family is your favorite part of Christmas, that is a wonderful thing. But for many, Christmas dinner is a source of stress.
As with so many aspects of modern life, expectations (and shopping lists) relating to festive fare have increased exponentially in recent years. The average UK household now spends £225 ($290) on food for December 25 alone.2 No wonder there is so much pressure to “get it right.” But do we really have to do it exactly the same way every year?
Half-Lebanese, half-Welsh mum-of-two Caroline McLannahan remembers her parents getting so worked up about Christmas Day cooking that she is now consciously casual about the whole event each year.
Growing up, I couldn’t imagine a Christmas dinner without turkey, because that’s what we always had. But all that changed in the course of a single conversation when our younger daughter was a newborn and our elder one was a toddler. We had recently moved into a new house and had several relatives over for Christmas dinner. Instead of requesting help, we took it all on ourselves. Mr. K spent most of the day in the kitchen, while I nursed the baby and tried to entertain everyone. As the last of our guests left, Mr. K and I realized we had hardly seen each other all day, aside from brief discussions about logistics. As we flopped onto the sofa and stared at the moon through the conservatory window, plates of leftovers in hand, we vowed that we would never do Christmas the same way again.
“By the way, I don’t even like turkey,” said Mr. K.
“Neither do I!” I exclaimed.
We discussed every detail of the day and realized two essential truths. First, we should have roped in our guests to help. Second, we should have arranged the day differently so we got outside for some fresh air—our favorite thing to do had been lost in all the chaos. In the weeks that followed, we had a few tricky but refreshing conversations with our guests, who all agreed it had not been ideal. Then we outlined a host of changes for the following year, perhaps most importantly regarding the main meal.
We made a radical decision to ditch the traditional lunch and go with a simpler menu. So began a new tradition of cooking the filling for a pot pie on Christmas Eve, which meant we had plenty of time to go for a long walk on Christmas morning. When we returned home, we popped the pie in the oven and it was ready to serve in under an hour.
Perhaps we will reinstate the traditional roast when the girls are older, but for now our Christmas chicken pie feels just right… and it removes a massive amount of pressure.
Time-honored traditions are only worth maintaining if they honor your time and bring you pleasure.
Looking back at polar expeditions in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it is clear that the prospect of Christmas dinner boosted morale and provided invaluable physical, emotional, and psychological nourishment. “Hair would be cut, beards shaved, and bodies, decks, and camps scrubbed and decorated in preparation for a ritualised time of relaxation,” while the explorers looked forward to their double rations with “childish delight.”3
During Robert Falcon Scott’s expedition to Antarctica in 1901, seal liver, hot cocoa, pemmican (a mixture of concentrated fat and protein), biscuits, and spoonfuls of jam were all on the Christmas menu. Scott noted in his diary, “I had observed Shackleton ferreting about in his bundle out of which he presently produced a spare sock, and stowed away in the toe of that sock was a small round object about the size of a cricket ball, which when brought to light, proved to be a noble ‘plum-pudding.’ ”4 Imagine the elation of those explorers, each of whom probably had little more than a spoonful of pudding, but undoubtedly savored every morsel.
Planning Christmas meals well in advance not only reduces the likelihood of last-minute panic shopping but enhances the eating experience when the time finally comes. From an hour at the kitchen table surrounded by cookbooks to festive chitchat with the farm-shop owner, from floury faces and spoon-licking fun with little ones to the satisfaction of a freezer bursting with nourishing meals, there is much to enjoy in the process.
Last Christmas, we were living in a rented house while closing on our new home. We had expected to be in by November, so all our decorations were in storage. Consequently, our Christmas was even simpler than usual: just one room decorated with evergreens, fairy lights, and a few nature-inspired embellishments. Fortunately, that left plenty of time to focus on food.
I made gifts of stollen; jars of traditional English quince chutney, piccalilli, and lemon curd; and boxes of homemade chocolates. I baked Christmas cookies and gingerbread biscuits with clementine icing for the school cake sale. Then there was our family fare: the not-turkey pie, a chestnut loaf and fig jam, winter salads, candied peel dipped in chocolate, homemade granola, gallons of chicken stock for soups and risottos, jars of roasted nuts and seeds, tomato sauce, curries and a chili, and a wheelbarrow-load of roasted vegetables.
I was in my element chopping and pickling, baking and preserving. Leftovers stretched the nourishment much further. It never felt stressful, because the preparation was evenly distributed between late November and Christmas Eve, with baking days often accompanied by Christmas songs and a glass or two of mulled wine.
I loved adding handmade labels to jars, and had a deep sense of satisfaction from knowing that there were so many hearty suppers in the freezer. There was also plenty on hand for friends and neighbors who popped by. It was all so different from that chaotic Christmas just a few years before, and I learned that a little planning really does go a long way.
Among the black and bare trees we shook the snow from the undergrowth with frost-reddened fingers, seeking the sharp-spiked holly, bunches of laurel and ivy, cold clusters of moon-pale mistletoe. With these, our sisters transformed the familiar kitchen into a grotto of shining leaves, an enchanted bower woven from twigs and branches sprinkled with scarlet berries.
—Laurie Lee, Village Christmas and Other Notes on the English Year5
Twelve Tips for Stress-free Festive Food Preparation
1. Map out every event for which you plan to cook, either alone or with other people. Decide on a menu for each, remembering to include breakfast, lunch, and snacks if guests will be staying for several days. Ask your guests about any special dietary requirements and preferences well in advance. If thinking about it makes you feel anxious, find ways to simplify your plans or rope in some support.
2. Think about the cooking utensils and serveware you will need to cater for your guests. If you don’t have enough of everything, and can’t borrow it, the Black Friday sales at the end of November are a good opportunity to buy anything you need at a bargain price.
3. If you find cooking everything a bit too stressful, ask yourself the following questions:
4. Write a complete list of the ingredients you need, check your cupboards to see what you already have, then do your shopping. When compiling your list, remember to include ingredients for healthy breakfasts, such as frozen fruit for smoothies, to give everyone a good start to the day.
5. To avoid the supermarket crowds, either order online or shop locally. Buying direct from growers, bakers, or independent shopkeepers makes it so much more special when it comes time for the meal.
6. If you buy too much, consider donating some of it to the local food bank.
7. If money is scarce, encourage your guests to contribute something, such as wine or dessert. If you have a large family, consider organizing a Christmas dinner fund, to be used by whoever is hosting. Plant-based dishes tend to be cheaper than meat or fish, so even if you do a small roast, be extra-generous with sides to fill plates. It will still feel like a special feast if you take extra care with the table settings and lighting, and radiate festive spirit.
8. Make a simple week-by-week plan for December, and a day-by-day plan for the week before Christmas. Include ideas for table decorations if these will need to be made in advance. If your schedule seems overwhelming, reduce the number of guests at your main gathering, make it more casual, invite people to stay for fewer days (or not at all), simplify your menu, or plan to eat out on occasion.
9. Batch cook and freeze casual, nutritious meals, such as warming stews, for eating between Christmas and New Year.
10. When cooking, put on your favorite apron and some festive music, rope in some help if possible, and try to enjoy it. Make a simple timeline counting backwards from when you want to serve, and set alarms on your phone for when each component needs to come out of the oven. If you plan it correctly, this can be a mindful experience as you melt into the smells, sights, textures, sounds, and, of course, tastes of your bubbling dishes.
11. Consider setting up festive party stations, so your guests can help themselves to drinks and snacks before the main event. Serve the meal itself in large bowls or on platters, or dishes straight from the oven, buffet style.
12. Finally, try to relax. Remember, your guests are all grateful for the effort you’re making and they want to spend time with you.
There were only two occasions when my dad would stand on a ladder: to get the Christmas decorations down from a high shelf above the stairwell, and to put them back a few weeks later. One by one, the battered cardboard boxes would be passed down to my mum, standing at the bottom of the ladder, and then to a chain of us children until the baubles were finally delivered to their rightful place at the foot of the tree.
The most exotic Christmas decoration we ever had was a silver-and-blue expandable foil star. Lying flat, it was no more than a series of squares on top of one another, but when you picked up the hook at the center of the top layer, it stretched into a captivating lantern that caught the light as it twirled. That decoration was my dad’s pride and joy. He had picked it up on a trip to Spain at what he thought was a bargain price… until he realized he had put the decimal point in the wrong place when doing the exchange-rate calculation. That made it the most expensive decoration we had ever seen. The most expensive in all of Europe, probably. We treated it with due reverence, as if it had the power to guide us all the way to Bethlehem, and it enjoyed pride of place above the dining table every Christmas from when I was eight until my parents moved some three decades later.
Decorating the home can become a lovely annual ritual. Whether done alone or with others, it can represent a special moment in the year—the point when Christmas truly begins. In fact, scientists have found that hanging Christmas decorations generates positive emotions and powerful memories of childhood.6
For centuries, people have brought light and life to the darkest days of winter by decorating their homes with candles, lamps, and evergreens. Holly and ivy are said to provide a sanctuary for fairies over the cold winter months. Meanwhile, that universal invitation to kiss—mistletoe—was traditionally harvested with a golden sickle, carried high and hung over doors to bring good luck.7 Herbs have long been used symbolically in festive displays, including rosemary for remembrance and bay for valor.8
One of the true delights of our somewhat wild cottage garden is that it has everything we need to make a Christmas wreath: holly and ivy with an abundance of berries, hazel, bay, yew, willow, plenty of moss. Sometimes we even find pheasant feathers lying around. If evergreens are in short supply where you live, you can usually forage them from local woods (requesting permission where necessary), or pay a visit to a local market, farm shop, or florist. There’s no need to wait until late December to make a wreath. I usually adorn our front door with autumn delights from November onwards, and refresh our Christmas wreath for some seasonal cheer through January. This particular creative endeavor encourages you to get outside, use your hands, and take time out to make something really special.
Evergreens and berries are subtle signs of life when much of the garden is dying back. They represent hope, regeneration, and the spirit of life itself. Similarly, natural decorations are not showy or loud. Instead, they offer a warm welcome and a hint of potent midwinter magic.
Good lighting makes everything more magical, and fairy lights and candles (real or artificial) don’t cost much. You don’t need to invest in fancy new candlesticks—wine bottles, old lanterns, even a block of wood with a few holes cut in it for tealights can work wonderfully. And fairy lights look good on everything—a tree, a branch, a gate, wrapped around the trinkets on your mantelpiece, in a mason jar as a portable lantern. Then there is firelight, of course, which offers warmth, too. Turn off your overhead lights, use these gentler methods instead, and see your rooms transformed.
And don’t forget the outside of your home. Lamps by the front door send out a generous welcome, while solar-powered lights alongside paths and in trees are a gift to passersby.
See yourself as a custodian of Christmas. Notice the first scent of pine in the crisp December air as you wrap your hands gleefully around a mug of hot chocolate. Recognize how much goes into planning the gatherings, chivvying the relatives, thinking long and hard about gifts, saving the ribbon, stashing away the paper, writing the cards, stirring the soup, stacking the kindling, fluffing the cushions, knitting the stockings, and opening your home and heart to welcome the magic of the season.
In our efforts to create the “perfect” Christmas year in, year out, many of us overspend, overprepare, and overdo just about everything and end up so frazzled, stressed, and exhausted we cannot enjoy the wonder we have created. This year, let’s do it differently. If you could do only one thing for each gathering, what would it be? Focus on that, do it brilliantly, and be relaxed about the rest.
Letting go of the notion of the perfect Christmas is not about lowering your expectations, but changing them. Try exchanging the word “perfect” for something else—a memorable Christmas, a lovely Christmas, or a special Christmas, perhaps.
Remember that each and every Christmas is as unique as a snowflake, and that Christmas is likely to be much calmer if you can be flexible with your plans, ideas, and responses. Create the circumstances you need for a great Christmas, but then try to go with the flow and make the best of whatever unfolds.
Christmas happens all around us, whether we choose to participate or not. But when we organize a gathering, we invite it into our homes, along with our guests. As soon as those guests step inside, they will experience both the physical environment (the temperature, the lighting, the decorations, etc.) and the emotional environment (the ambience you have created). As the host, you can make that environment more welcoming, and you can encourage connection among the guests, but you cannot dictate their behavior or mood. Accepting that is the key to a calmer frame of mind.
Before your guests arrive—or before the rest of the family wakes up on Christmas Day—switch your focus from what you haven’t yet done, to all that you have done to prepare for this. Think about all you have created in the kitchen and on the wrapping table, and all the care that has gone into decorating and otherwise preparing for this moment, and hold those offerings close as you open the front door or step into the day. Know that there will be so much gratitude for what you have done, even if people don’t find the words to tell you. So, take a deep breath before it all begins, and choose to relax.
The word “calm” derives from the late-Latin cauma (“heat”), and stems from the practice of resting during the heat of the day. If you are feeling stressed by the heat of Christmas, try the following exercise.
We are often acutely aware of what is stressing us out, but that knowledge is rarely sufficient to lessen the impact. However, a simple exercise might help.
Sketch out the table below. Add your personal stressors to the left-hand column, such as rude people in busy shopping malls or passive-aggressive comments from one of your guests. Then list your typical responses in the right-hand column. Try to be very specific (and honest): for example, “sarcasm” or “snappiness.”
Things that trigger stress |
My usual response |
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Now, sketch out a second table and write exactly the same entries in the left-hand column as you did in the first table. This time, though, in the right-hand column, choose an alternative response that will help you relax. Here are some suggestions:
Things that I will now use to trigger calm |
My new response |
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5 |
Next time you come into contact with one of your stress triggers, remind yourself that it can be a calm trigger and choose the second type of response.
Visualizing your gathering before it happens can make a huge difference. Many of us hope everything will run smoothly but presume there will be chaos, and this can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. So, instead, try to visualize a calm, relaxed event. Here are tips for being a mindful host, to pave the way for a mellow experience for you and an enjoyable event for your guests.
How to Be a Mindful Host
Family gatherings tend to be a strange mix of intergenerational, complex dynamics, often fueled by too much alcohol, that play out in a confined space for an entire day or even longer.
As guests arrive with their gifts, they may also bring old wounds, assumptions, or bitterness. They may pass judgment on your way of life. They could well be nervous. Or they might want a day of peace, love, and laughter at the end of a hard year. Everyone has their issues, and they all coalesce in an emotional pot of Christmas stew.
On December 27 last year, I overheard two dog-walkers discussing their respective Christmases. “Honestly, on Christmas Day, I couldn’t breathe,” said the first. “I wish I had just stepped outside for a few minutes.” Something so simple can make a huge difference in the midst of tension or conflict, but we often neglect to do it. Instead, we allow ourselves to get embroiled in heated conversations and arguments.
Below are some tips to help you deal with divisive situations.
There’s a place I like to go whenever I’m feeling stressed or overwhelmed—a forest in northern Japan, deep in the mountains. The snow is thick on the ground, dampening every sound, so all I hear is birdsong and my own breathing. Sometimes the wind blows and the snow drifts, but I am sheltered by the trees.
It’s been ten years since I stood in that forest, but I often visit in my mind. It never fails to calm me.
Even if you are blessed with the most congenial family and love every aspect of Christmas, there is sure to come a time when you need to step away. Cultivating your own mental space of silence and snowfall—or whatever is most restful for you—can be a lifeline when the festivities get to be too much.
You could also create a calming physical space in your home—perhaps a quiet room, a secluded corner with a beanbag and a book, or a comfy chair and a bag of sewing. If guests are staying, invite them to use it. This can be especially helpful when children are visiting. Quiet music and some paper and pens for drawing can help calm little ones (and grown-ups) at the end of an exciting day.
Minimizing Tension Over the Holidays
These tips can help reduce the likelihood of conflict over Christmas:
You have made it to Christmas! Whatever kind of a year you have had, you are still here. On Christmas Eve, after all the preparations have been made and before the big day is upon you, take a moment to breathe, reflect, and be thankful.
Anglo-Saxon pagans celebrated December 24 as Modranicht—“Night of the Mothers”—which resonates particularly strongly with me, as I was in labor on Christmas Eve a few years ago.
These days, I have my own Christmas Eve ritual. Prior to a quiet dinner with my husband, I cuddle my daughters, and reflect on that Christmas I became a mother. Then I light a candle and give thanks to my own mother and the women before her, to the gift of motherhood, and to everyone who is offering a mothering influence to others, in whatever capacity that may be.
It is a lovely moment to reflect on your relationships with matriarchal figures, and to honor the nurturing instincts that have helped you prepare for this festive season. It is also the perfect time to breathe in the calm that settles around twilight on Christmas Eve.
The Snow Globe
If you ever feel anxious or stressed in the middle of a crowd, or even in a small group of people, imagine you are in a snow globe. There is a sphere of protection all around you, and inside, snow is gently falling. You can see what is happening outside, but the noise is muffled, and you can rest in stillness as the Christmas whirlwind spins.
Practice mindfulness in the midst of the rush. Focus on the specific sensory details of your immediate environment—the feel of a cup in your hand, the temperature of the air—and allow the snow globe to insulate you from the sensory overload outside.