Barring rain, I try to get outside to take a daily walk. This time of year, I especially enjoy the holiday decorations.

Recently I noticed the houses leading up to mine. House No. 1? Holiday lights. House No. 2? Holiday lights. House No. 3? Holiday lights. House No. 4? You guessed it! More holiday lights!

The time and effort spent were well worth it. They all looked beautiful. I smiled.

Then I looked at my house.

No holiday lights. Nothing. Nada.

Well, our Thanksgiving wreath was still hanging by the front door.

We’re days away from celebrating Christmas and ringing in the New Year, and the Kochs aren’t keeping up with the Joneses.

And I’m OK with it.

In fact, when everyone lambasted Melania Trump for her holiday décor at the White House in 2017 calling it “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” I may have simultaneously snickered and felt empathy for her. I doubt I have much in common with Melania, but I suspect she had many choice words upon being told she was responsible for all holiday decorations. I would have too. And years before I had kids, I similarly may have opted for a “Christmas Stick” with lights as a tree.

Don’t get me wrong. I love holiday decorations. Just don’t expect to walk into a winter wonderland at my house. When my kids were younger, I decorated for the holidays a bit. Then I realized I decorated more when we had company. It was clear I was doing it for others, not for me — because I certainly didn’t enjoy it.

And as my boys have grown older, if I don’t decorate, it doesn’t get done. And no one seems bothered. If they did, they’d be jumping to decorate too. But they’re not.

So, this year, I’m not sweating it. I’m done pulling out the boxes and sorting out the lights. And the tree is still in the garage. I’ve decided if something feels stressful, if I don’t enjoy it, why bother?

Moreover, gifts, meal planning, gift wrapping, mailing gifts, cards, things that are all time consuming, take considerable effort and can be stressful, often fall upon women. Growing up, I was lucky to have a father who enjoyed cooking and baking, and my husband gladly contributes too, but there are still some things that have been “mine.” Decorating has been one of them. And some other things I took on because I wanted to.

For a few years, I sent out holiday cards. I enjoyed writing yearly updates and mailing them to friends. I even paid to have them addressed for me to save time. I thought it was great until I realized how much money I spent on something that might land in the trash after a quick read. Plus, who is truly honest in those things anyway?

This year, I briefly lost my mind and considered doing a family photo. Instead, I spent way too much time photoshopping a photo of my dog and me into an ‘80s-like card that I might share — a much better alternative to the last time we tried to do a family photo, which as I remember involved arguing right up until the moment we plastered smiles on our faces for the camera.

Ah, but 2022, I can’t wait to kiss you goodbye. I’m struggling to teach my teenage boys how to resist peer pressure. The fact that COVID, RSV  and flu are rampant, and the CDC recommends that we wear masks, but few do, makes me feel like my nerd-self back in junior high school. The world has decided to turn again, and I’ll continue to be a woman out of sync. Maybe if I up my fashion sense, my mask won’t garner so much attention?

As for Christmas, I’m not ready. Frankly, I’ve never understood why we celebrate Christmas at the end of December. It’s inconvenient. It’s so cold and the kids never have enough vacation. Not to mention basketball season is always hectic.

I think we should move Christmas to the spring or summer. I personally would prefer more time to prepare. I’d also like to travel and not fret about winter weather interfering. (And before you get outraged, Jesus likely wasn’t born in December anyway.)

No surprise, I also haven’t planned Christmas dinner. After hearing me talk about how much work a holiday dinner is, my eldest requested pizza. My youngest wants calzones. I’m honestly giving it serious thought.

So, was I born without the “female decorator” gene? Or should you just call me Mrs. Grinch?

Either way, I don’t care? Not in the least.

For me, my holidays will no longer be measured by anything external or that which wears me down. They will be measured by smiles, laughter, hugs — and quality sleep.

Hilary Koch lives in Waterville. She can be reached at: hilarykoch@pm.me

Copy the Story Link