On a chilly Christmas morning a decade ago, I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor, overwhelmed with tears. My partner, Mark, discovered me in this vulnerable state. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone filled with concern.
Through a cascade of sobs, I recounted the chaos. After spending two days meticulously cleaning the kitchen in preparation for Christmas, it had been transformed into a disaster zone. My family had decided to whip up a festive breakfast, leaving flour scattered across the counters and dirty pans cluttering the stove. I was now faced with the daunting task of cleaning up before preparing Christmas dinner, which would then require its own cleanup. All this while I struggled to catch my breath, my emotional turmoil evident even to our bewildered dog.
This meltdown was a long time coming. The preceding year had been marked by challenges; we were grappling with the reality that our youngest child, Lily, not only faced developmental delays but had recently been diagnosed with epilepsy. The weight of anxiety and depression had taken its toll on me, and a clean house had become a misguided symbol of my ability to manage the chaos around me. I believed that if everything looked perfect, I could finally relax and enjoy the holiday.
However, there I sat, desperately needing a tissue and feeling utterly defeated.
Mark joined me on the floor, offering apologies for disrupting my efforts. He suggested he could handle the mess, but I was still fixated on the dinner that needed to be prepared immediately. Everything felt impossible, and I couldn’t see a way out.
“What if we just ordered Chinese food?” he proposed.
I blinked, taken aback.
“The kids don’t mind the food, and it’s just us. It would be so much easier.”
Reflecting on this moment during a therapy session a week later, my therapist leaned in, eager to hear my response. “What did you say?” she asked, intrigued.
“I told him to see if the Chinese restaurant was open,” I replied.
“Yes! That was the perfect response!” she exclaimed.
In that moment of desperation, I had been presented with a choice: to cling to my ideal of a perfect holiday or to embrace a simpler, more enjoyable alternative. I chose the latter, a decision that would ultimately lead to a memorable day.
Whether or not the kitchen was cleaned up is a detail I can’t recall, but I do remember that the Chinese restaurant was indeed open, and Lily, along with her siblings, relished the unexpected twist of having Chinese food for Christmas dinner. Later, I found myself on the couch, laughing and enjoying time with Lily while the older kids and Mark engaged in a spirited Nerf gun battle. We still discover orange darts tucked away in unexpected corners long after that day.
By letting go of my preconceived notions of what Christmas should look like, I allowed myself to savor what it could be. The children still reminisce about that day as one of their favorite Christmases, and surprisingly, I do too.
Life has a way of teaching us that despite our best intentions—achieving the perfect job, marrying the right partner, and raising children at the “right” time—things often don’t unfold as planned. Instead, we face complicated, messy choices that can feel insurmountable. Yet, sometimes, we encounter a simple decision that can alter everything, creating cherished memories in the process.
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In summary, embracing the unexpected can lead to some of the most memorable moments in life, especially during the holidays.