It was Halloween 2011. My little parade of trick-or-treaters included a 2-year-old Paw Patrol pup, a 5-year-old unicorn and a 7-year-old pilot.
That morning, I was racing between class parties at two different schools — one for my kindergartner, one for my third grader — while trying to get my youngest home in time for a real nap. Without that nap, I knew trick-or-treating would be a disaster. Meanwhile, I had cupcakes to frost, a dog desperately needing exercise, and a serious case of perfect parent syndrome.
Later that afternoon, the neighbors would be coming over to our house for pre-trick-or-treat pizza and snacks. My husband had started a new job that morning and I was so worried he’d get stuck working late in the city and miss it all. All I could think about was making everything magical for my kids — as if their joy depended on my perfect execution.
Why am I still talking about Halloween in November? Because the winter holidays are coming, the same principles apply and I want you to learn from my mistakes.
Between the overstimulated meltdowns from the kids and the impossible standards I set for myself, I was missing the point. My kids didn’t care about a perfect Halloween. They didn’t care about spider-shaped cookies and witch-hat sandwiches. They didn’t need their costume to be perfect, they needed a parent who could sympathize with the too-itchy costume and their over-sugared brain. They didn’t need a perfectly spooky crudite platter. They needed a mom who wasn’t fluffing the pillows and rushing them along. They wanted to feel comfortable, seen and loved. A stressed-out parent, trying to get it all right, cannot possibly regulate their small child. They can’t be present and in the moment.
The next year, I said no to the class parties. I didn’t volunteer to bring the cupcakes and I dropped off the paper plates and napkins ahead of time. I stayed home while my little napped and the big kids rode the school bus home. It gave me time to set up for our pizza party and relax so that I could welcome them home to a present, mostly happy mom.
We still had the pizza party and the neighborhood fun, but there were fewer themed appetizers and a mess of toys in the living room. I didn’t stress over whether or not my husband would make it in time. I was relaxed enough to manage on my own.
As the holidays rush in with themed school days, hosting, shopping and class parties — don’t try to do it all. Save some of yourself for when your child has a rush of big feelings or melts down over a scratchy sweater. Leave room for the hard parts and the in-betweens. Because years from now, they won’t remember the perfect table settings or the themed snacks — they’ll remember the parent who had enough left to hold them close and be there with them through the good parts and the hard parts, too.
Lizzie Assa is founder of The Workspace for Children, a parenting strategist, play expert and mother of three who lives in Marblehead.
