I love Christmas time. It’s the most wonderful time of the year (if the song is to be believed). Once Halloween has passed and the supermarket displays of mince pies, sherry and tinsel start to seem less-ironic and vaguely seasonal I feel justified in allowing myself to enjoy the run up to it. I get excited, I daydream and I anticipate. I’ve been the same all my life. As a child, the countdown was marked with an advent calendar (which to the shock of my kids didn’t used to feature a nugget of chocolate behind every door, but instead a small festive picture; a robin, a sprig of holly or perhaps a scene from the nativity to mark each passing day; very low-key). Not content with the calendar I would re-read festive books and re-watch favourite Christmas TV series’ and movies; with the skills of a marketing genius I would build myself into a frothing frenzy of festive anticipation by the time Christmas day came around. I may have matured a little to the extent that I’m able to sleep uninterrupted on Christmas Eve without listening for sleigh bells, but it hasn’t stopped me from feeling the joy of the anticipation. If anything, the sensation is heightened now. I’ve compounded it too by banning from the house all decorations, Christmas movies and music and the consumption of mince pies and mulled wine until December 1st or later. It’s not a standpoint that has won me many fans, but my motives are positive; I want to maintain a sense of perspective, to reinforce for my nearest and dearest that if we’re truly going to enjoy the end-of-year festivities and celebrate for a few days by exchanging gifts and overeating and drinking, then surely we can confine the joy and the anticipation to just one month of the year? Better to make it one good month than a tedious two? At risk of this descending into a ‘things aren’t the same as they used to be’ piece, I wanted to get the above disclaimer in to ensure that you don’t think of me as someone who can’t feel festive delight or revel in the anticipation of something just as much (if not more than) the event itself. Scrooge, I am not. What I’ve been reflecting on since the Christmas season arrived, is prompted in observing the annual ritual of my kids preparing their Christmas lists. When I was a child (there’s the statement you were no doubt expecting) I recall the challenges of compiling my Christmas list of gifts I hoped to receive. Writing it down made sure there could be no misinterpretation, and thanks to my parents who seemed helpfully to have a fast-track in getting it sent to the North Pole, ensured that at least some of the items would appear beneath the tree on Christmas morning. As a kid, I wasn’t so much focussed on the season of good cheer, but more on the opportunity to get some new toys or to push the boundaries of my material life, to request some coveted item that would bring new meaning to my life. I can’t remember a single Christmas spent feeling anything other than delighted with the gifts I received, surrounded by love and festive joy; for that reason and many others I feel blessed for my childhood and upbringing. As my reminiscences become wistful and my hindsight more rose-tinted it strikes me just how much the very act of preparing a Christmas list has changed. As a child, with the advent of the Internet being at least 30 years away my research was confined to toy commercials on TV, items I may have spotted in a shop or occasionally from flicking through a home-shopping catalogue. There was a logistical limit around my expectations, and on what my parents (sorry, Santa) might provide me with. It was assumed that what I wanted was available from a shop somewhere in a town near me. At a stretch, it might be something available from a shop in London (in my juvenile mind, a mysterious and wonderful place where shop shelves groaned under the weight of exotic toys the likes of which I could only dream). Today the assumption is that pretty much any product, be that a toy, article of clothing or item of technology can be obtained for the right price and within little more than a few days priority shipping from anywhere in the world thanks to the web. Therein lays the quandary for the accommodating parent who is hoping to keep their kids’ feet on the ground when it comes to composing their list. The only limit is that enforced by the parents and their budget, and I believe the kids know and believe this too even if their belief in Santa remains intact. I recall a particularly landmark year for my eldest daughter. She’d turned 12 or 13 that year and as Christmas loomed it was clear that she knew exactly what she wanted and expected. For context, she’s a hard worker and academically astute but like most teens, prone to taking the path of least resistance when it comes to school work. Contrast this work ethic with the time that had been devoted to writing the Christmas list that was presented to me and other members of the family and it was obvious where her priorities lay. The list itself was truly a thing of beauty, and no small miracle of desktop publishing; A single side of A4 paper, it detailed desired items (ranging as I recall from a very specific tweed jacket through to a number of high-end make-up products) with a list of retail stockists and their web addresses, current prices and even a ranking system to ensure we understood her priorities. The finished article was rolled up like a University Diploma, and tied with string in an ornate bow. She’d even gone as far as holding initial briefing calls with her grandparents, aunts and her mother to ensure they were agreed on what each was expected to buy for her. The arrival of the list elicited mixed emotions; I’ve still got my copy in a file-box as I want to reminisce over it in years to come alongside finger-paintings and past-school reports with a sense of nostalgic amusement. There was also a sense of slight despair though when we considered how our baby could have become so materialistic and fixated on organised material gain. The spirit of Christmas had well and truly evaporated. As with most kids these days it was apparent just how materially focussed she had become. Far from criticising her for this (for she is a product of the world she lives in and the parenting she has received from us) I now see the same traits emerging in her younger sisters and brother (now aged 13, 11 and 8). One evening this week, child number three (the 11 year old boy) undertook 10 minutes of maths homework with begrudging-resistance, his mantra being to get the bare-minimum done in the least time required to the lowest acceptable standard. Following this, he applied himself to a diligent hour and a half on an iPad researching and then documenting his Christmas list (the third draft) and annotating and cross-referencing the already comprehensive notes prepared the previous evening. If the work ethic applied to the two tasks were reversed I’m confident that he’d be graduating from Harvard within 5 years.
I’ll confess at this point that the rest of this article in its first draft descended into a rant over the challenge of combatting materialism in kids and how Christmas plays-to and encourages this trait. The article also reflected on the year-round frustrations I feel as a parent in response to the relative efforts my kids will apply towards the tasks that they want to do in comparison to those (e.g. homework) that they have to do. It is somewhat ironic then that it was during a bit of lunchtime Christmas shopping today, listening to the excellent audio book ‘The Values Factor” by Dr John DeMartini that an alternative angle to this topic crystallized in my mind. Undoubtedly modern life encourages greater consumerism in our kids who are able to identify absolutely any material product that exists in the world and which they could conceivably want. They also know that with the money and a short wait it can be theirs. I believe that social media and the cult of celebrity also tend to instil the belief that anyone can have anything they want, and no substitute should be accepted. This trait is simply a reality of modern life and it is down to the individual parent to find their own balance between giving their children the things they are able to and want to whilst (hopefully) also ensuring that the kids don’t develop a sense of entitlement or a failure to appreciate the value of things in the process. As far as my other frustration, well when did any kid ever get on and do their homework willingly and voluntarily when faced with a choice between that and something they really want to do? The key factor is the relationship between the task at hand and, in Dr DeMartini’s words, the child’s own higher-values. The simple and obvious aspect in each of the two scenarios that I described earlier is that my kids were doing more than just reacting to an inherent desire to accumulate more and add to their armoury of material possessions. Sure, they are kids and are allowed to be excited about Christmas and the prospect of asking Santa for new things. In each example however, they were both demonstrating this desire but in a way that brought out their passion, their values, and emphasizing and honing skills that I am sure will one day become a large part of their identities, their adult lives and their work. In the case of my daughter, she was using her passion and skill as an artist to create a list that was not only filled with facts and information to convey her wishes, but that was also visually appealing and tastefully presented. Over-engineered certainly, but pretty, nonetheless. She is now an arts student at college and I’m sure that whatever she does in adult life, she will always tend towards the visual and the aesthetic in whatever work she produces, especially when trying to convey a subject or relay content that she is passionate about. In the case of my son, he has a keen mind for detail and an encyclopaedic knowledge on topics that fire his imagination. He may not leap with joy at the sight of a sheet of mathematics problems, but he can relay details of the 2015/16 Manchester United Football season (and the one before it) to an impressive level of detail and he can identify and recall the key skills and signature moves of hundreds of superheroes at will. In researching the content of his Christmas list to the level of detail that he did, he was demonstrating diligence and an attention to detail on topics that align to his higher values and interests that I’m sure will serve him well in life and his career. Similarly, his skills in employing modern technology to collate his list with zero assistance and supreme focus demonstrate just how seamlessly technology and its use is embedded in him and how he thinks. As with many things I’ve learned (and continue to learn) as a parent, it’s very easy to jump to conclusions when your child does (or doesn’t do) something. Understanding the cause doesn’t always excuse the action (or effect) but at least it can help offer an alternative perspective and aid your understanding. In some instances, like the above, it can also help you recognise the positive traits and behaviours arising from the situation which are to be encouraged, not quashed. In turn, that can help you to plan future strategies so that when you are next confronted with a similar challenge you can adapt your behaviour or expectations rather than blindly hoping for something different. That is my lesson learned for today. I have numerous memories of Christmases past, and many that are no doubt artificially vivid thanks to oft-viewed family photos. One such memory (and possibly representing my best ever Christmas present) was of a Cowboy dressing-up costume comprising a fringed trouser and waistcoat combo made by my Mum and a Leather pistol holster crafted by my Dad. At the age of about 5, the photo of me and my sister that Christmas morning (she wearing the nurses outfit with similar home-made provenance) epitomises to me the sentiment that I want to recapture for my kids in giving them memorable Christmases for years to come. That isn’t to say that I’ll be ignoring the lists they’ve all so diligently crafted and eschewing the crowds heading out to Black Friday sales in the pre-Christmas shopping frenzy, in favour of hand-made gifts. Or maybe I will, after all there’s that other adage about gifts and giving; “It’s the thought that counts!” Toby Hazlewood
Most kids I know are counting down the days between to Christmas with a fervour driven from the expectation of new toys, treats and tech that they’ll receive come December 25th. It’s not just the kids either; most adults can tell you how many days of work they’ve got left before a few days of festive R&R.
It seems timely then to reflect on a tendency that many of us have year-round, living our lives counting down, marking the time between now and some point in the future when we can do what we really want; 3 hours until lunch. 4 days until the weekend. 2 weeks until our birthday. 4 months until the family vacation. 2 more years until I can leave this job for something better. You know what I’m getting at.
It’s great to have things to look forward to and anticipate but the danger of this mind-set is that we condition ourselves to another of the scourges of life; believing that now is not good enough and that things will be better at some point in the future. This is more than just a lack of mindfulness that most of us suffer, or a lack of appreciation of the power of now, of being where (and when) we are. It reflects inherent dissatisfaction that many of us have become conditioned to thinking when we consider where we are right now.
There is nothing wrong in looking forwards and I’m a big advocate of focussing on the future rather than the past. We can’t change what has gone; only learn from it and move onwards, hoping for better or indeed for more of the same. Considering our higher values, visualising what we want and guiding our actions towards their achievement are inherently part of assisting ourselves to grow, develop and achieve. If we don’t know where we want to get to, how can we possibly plan how we’ll get there? I’m certainly not advocating living a life without forethought, planning or anticipation.
The danger comes when we cease to appreciate the value of what we have now, right now, here in this moment; a danger that we live in a constant state of putting off our satisfaction to some point in the future when notionally things will be better and life will be more palatable than they are at present. I’m not advocating a life spent in the pursuit of instant-gratification, taking and doing whatever we want without consideration of the consequence. I amsuggesting mindfully appreciating what we have in this moment and seeking the enjoyment or at least appreciation of that.
I remember vividly my early days as a parent. The inherent joy was suffused with inevitable sleepless nights, worry and physical and mental challenge from being tasked with keeping our exceedingly demanding new-born alive and happy. I recall (thankfully with rose-tinted hindsight) the nights spent changing, feeding, winding and pacing around the house, attempting to soothe a crying baby; during those long nights when it seemed like everyone else in the world was enjoying a deep and restful sleep, I comforted myself that it wouldn’t be this way for long. I yearned for the day when a new-born starts to settle, and an uninterrupted 6 hours of sleep wouldn’t seem like an outrageous impossibility.
With the passing of time, the challenges of pacifying a new-born baby were replaced with other equally challenging phases; teething, toddling, the terrible twos, endless colds and bugs, and a myriad of other tests that mark the passing of the early years. In each of these periods I found myself comforted by thoughts that it wouldn’t be this way forever but with hindsight I remember most, if not all phases in the lives of my kids with fondness and wistfulness, not a sense of relief at their passing.
It seems to me that in parenting and in many other aspects of life I’ve been guilty of always looking to the future as the point at which things will be easier and more fulfilling and rewarding rather than keeping myself present in the now and enjoying every aspect of the moment. That the rewards have come and that I can look back fondly on even the most testing events of the past is fortunate for certain, but I can’t help but wonder what happiness I missed out on along the way merely because I was so fixated on what was to come.
“What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
As a child, I vividly remember counting down the days to the weekend, the number of sleeps until a family holiday and in adolescence, the number of shifts left at work until the summer break or how many semesters before graduation. In the early years of my career I was permanently fixated on the next role, the promotion that would finally endow me with the authority (and pay-check) that I desired, and the material possessions that would eventually be mine. I have been way too guilty in the past of taking my eye off the here and now in favour of considering the shinier and happier future, and it’s one of the many traits I hope not to pass on to my kids.
When the going gets tough it’s a natural tendency to remind ourselves or those around us sharing the period of challenge that things won’t always be this way, and inevitably that can be a source of comfort. Perhaps an alternative means of tackling these challenges would be to mindfully acknowledge and accept the way that things are and to consider what the lessons are we can take from what we’re currently experiencing, or even, dare I suggest it, to enjoy the feeling of taking on the challenges?
This is of course easier said than done at times. In the midst of a busy period at work or in the run up to exams or assignment deadlines at school or college it can be hard to see anything very positive about the now; rather, we focus on that point in the future when it will all be over. Perhaps though in this moment if we can elevate ourselves to see things from a slightly greater altitude, we may just take off the pressure. If we can acknowledge that we are undoubtedly in the midst of stress, challenge and even emotional, psychological or intellectual hardship, we may also be simultaneously proving to ourselves and others just how much we can handle and the circumstances within which we can thrive. Such realisations can be a great source of happiness, comfort and empowerment.
Such realisations may only dawn on us in reflection, once the time of challenge has passed and we have weathered the storm. It is this tendency that often gives us the rose-tinted hindsight that most enjoy. The lessons we can take from times of difficulty and the opportunities we have for growth in the aftermath will undoubtedly be heightened if we can not only get through them as quickly as possible, but actually be mindful of the challenges at the time and to learn and grow as we go rather than waiting until some point in the future.
It isn’t necessarily intuitive to be mindful and present as we contemplate the challenges of the now, but if we can get better at recognising quicker that we didn’t just get through challenging times, but that we thrived, grew and owned the moment then that is a huge positive step.
In mastering this skill, we can then enjoy both the big things that are forthcoming such as Christmas, but also the little things too. More joy sounds good to me!
I love Christmas time. It’s the most wonderful time of the year (if the song is to be believed). Once Halloween has passed and the supermarket displays of mince pies, sherry and tinsel start to seem less-ironic and vaguely seasonal I feel justified in allowing myself to enjoy the run up to it. I get excited, I daydream and I anticipate. I’ve been the same all my life. As a child, the countdown was marked with an advent calendar (which to the shock of my kids didn’t used to feature a nugget of chocolate behind every door, but instead a small festive picture; a robin, a sprig of holly or perhaps a scene from the nativity to mark each passing day; very low-key). Not content with the calendar I would re-read festive books and re-watch favourite Christmas TV series’ and movies; with the skills of a marketing genius I would build myself into a frothing frenzy of festive anticipation by the time Christmas day came around. I may have matured a little to the extent that I’m able to sleep uninterrupted on Christmas Eve without listening for sleigh bells, but it hasn’t stopped me from feeling the joy of the anticipation. If anything, the sensation is heightened now. I’ve compounded it too by banning from the house all decorations, Christmas movies and music and the consumption of mince pies and mulled wine until December 1st or later. It’s not a standpoint that has won me many fans, but my motives are positive; I want to maintain a sense of perspective, to reinforce for my nearest and dearest that if we’re truly going to enjoy the end-of-year festivities and celebrate for a few days by exchanging gifts and overeating and drinking, then surely we can confine the joy and the anticipation to just one month of the year? Better to make it one good month than a tedious two? At risk of this descending into a ‘things aren’t the same as they used to be’ piece, I wanted to get the above disclaimer in to ensure that you don’t think of me as someone who can’t feel festive delight or revel in the anticipation of something just as much (if not more than) the event itself. Scrooge, I am not. What I’ve been reflecting on since the Christmas season arrived, is prompted in observing the annual ritual of my kids preparing their Christmas lists. When I was a child (there’s the statement you were no doubt expecting) I recall the challenges of compiling my Christmas list of gifts I hoped to receive. Writing it down made sure there could be no misinterpretation, and thanks to my parents who seemed helpfully to have a fast-track in getting it sent to the North Pole, ensured that at least some of the items would appear beneath the tree on Christmas morning. As a kid, I wasn’t so much focussed on the season of good cheer, but more on the opportunity to get some new toys or to push the boundaries of my material life, to request some coveted item that would bring new meaning to my life. I can’t remember a single Christmas spent feeling anything other than delighted with the gifts I received, surrounded by love and festive joy; for that reason and many others I feel blessed for my childhood and upbringing. As my reminiscences become wistful and my hindsight more rose-tinted it strikes me just how much the very act of preparing a Christmas list has changed. As a child, with the advent of the Internet being at least 30 years away my research was confined to toy commercials on TV, items I may have spotted in a shop or occasionally from flicking through a home-shopping catalogue. There was a logistical limit around my expectations, and on what my parents (sorry, Santa) might provide me with. It was assumed that what I wanted was available from a shop somewhere in a town near me. At a stretch, it might be something available from a shop in London (in my juvenile mind, a mysterious and wonderful place where shop shelves groaned under the weight of exotic toys the likes of which I could only dream). Today the assumption is that pretty much any product, be that a toy, article of clothing or item of technology can be obtained for the right price and within little more than a few days priority shipping from anywhere in the world thanks to the web. Therein lays the quandary for the accommodating parent who is hoping to keep their kids’ feet on the ground when it comes to composing their list. The only limit is that enforced by the parents and their budget, and I believe the kids know and believe this too even if their belief in Santa remains intact. I recall a particularly landmark year for my eldest daughter. She’d turned 12 or 13 that year and as Christmas loomed it was clear that she knew exactly what she wanted and expected. For context, she’s a hard worker and academically astute but like most teens, prone to taking the path of least resistance when it comes to school work. Contrast this work ethic with the time that had been devoted to writing the Christmas list that was presented to me and other members of the family and it was obvious where her priorities lay. The list itself was truly a thing of beauty, and no small miracle of desktop publishing; A single side of A4 paper, it detailed desired items (ranging as I recall from a very specific tweed jacket through to a number of high-end make-up products) with a list of retail stockists and their web addresses, current prices and even a ranking system to ensure we understood her priorities. The finished article was rolled up like a University Diploma, and tied with string in an ornate bow. She’d even gone as far as holding initial briefing calls with her grandparents, aunts and her mother to ensure they were agreed on what each was expected to buy for her. The arrival of the list elicited mixed emotions; I’ve still got my copy in a file-box as I want to reminisce over it in years to come alongside finger-paintings and past-school reports with a sense of nostalgic amusement. There was also a sense of slight despair though when we considered how our baby could have become so materialistic and fixated on organised material gain. The spirit of Christmas had well and truly evaporated. As with most kids these days it was apparent just how materially focussed she had become. Far from criticising her for this (for she is a product of the world she lives in and the parenting she has received from us) I now see the same traits emerging in her younger sisters and brother (now aged 13, 11 and 8). One evening this week, child number three (the 11 year old boy) undertook 10 minutes of maths homework with begrudging-resistance, his mantra being to get the bare-minimum done in the least time required to the lowest acceptable standard. Following this, he applied himself to a diligent hour and a half on an iPad researching and then documenting his Christmas list (the third draft) and annotating and cross-referencing the already comprehensive notes prepared the previous evening. If the work ethic applied to the two tasks were reversed I’m confident that he’d be graduating from Harvard within 5 years.
I’ll confess at this point that the rest of this article in its first draft descended into a rant over the challenge of combatting materialism in kids and how Christmas plays-to and encourages this trait. The article also reflected on the year-round frustrations I feel as a parent in response to the relative efforts my kids will apply towards the tasks that they want to do in comparison to those (e.g. homework) that they have to do. It is somewhat ironic then that it was during a bit of lunchtime Christmas shopping today, listening to the excellent audio book ‘The Values Factor” by Dr John DeMartini that an alternative angle to this topic crystallized in my mind. Undoubtedly modern life encourages greater consumerism in our kids who are able to identify absolutely any material product that exists in the world and which they could conceivably want. They also know that with the money and a short wait it can be theirs. I believe that social media and the cult of celebrity also tend to instil the belief that anyone can have anything they want, and no substitute should be accepted. This trait is simply a reality of modern life and it is down to the individual parent to find their own balance between giving their children the things they are able to and want to whilst (hopefully) also ensuring that the kids don’t develop a sense of entitlement or a failure to appreciate the value of things in the process. As far as my other frustration, well when did any kid ever get on and do their homework willingly and voluntarily when faced with a choice between that and something they really want to do? The key factor is the relationship between the task at hand and, in Dr DeMartini’s words, the child’s own higher-values. The simple and obvious aspect in each of the two scenarios that I described earlier is that my kids were doing more than just reacting to an inherent desire to accumulate more and add to their armoury of material possessions. Sure, they are kids and are allowed to be excited about Christmas and the prospect of asking Santa for new things. In each example however, they were both demonstrating this desire but in a way that brought out their passion, their values, and emphasizing and honing skills that I am sure will one day become a large part of their identities, their adult lives and their work. In the case of my daughter, she was using her passion and skill as an artist to create a list that was not only filled with facts and information to convey her wishes, but that was also visually appealing and tastefully presented. Over-engineered certainly, but pretty, nonetheless. She is now an arts student at college and I’m sure that whatever she does in adult life, she will always tend towards the visual and the aesthetic in whatever work she produces, especially when trying to convey a subject or relay content that she is passionate about. In the case of my son, he has a keen mind for detail and an encyclopaedic knowledge on topics that fire his imagination. He may not leap with joy at the sight of a sheet of mathematics problems, but he can relay details of the 2015/16 Manchester United Football season (and the one before it) to an impressive level of detail and he can identify and recall the key skills and signature moves of hundreds of superheroes at will. In researching the content of his Christmas list to the level of detail that he did, he was demonstrating diligence and an attention to detail on topics that align to his higher values and interests that I’m sure will serve him well in life and his career. Similarly, his skills in employing modern technology to collate his list with zero assistance and supreme focus demonstrate just how seamlessly technology and its use is embedded in him and how he thinks. As with many things I’ve learned (and continue to learn) as a parent, it’s very easy to jump to conclusions when your child does (or doesn’t do) something. Understanding the cause doesn’t always excuse the action (or effect) but at least it can help offer an alternative perspective and aid your understanding. In some instances, like the above, it can also help you recognise the positive traits and behaviours arising from the situation which are to be encouraged, not quashed. In turn, that can help you to plan future strategies so that when you are next confronted with a similar challenge you can adapt your behaviour or expectations rather than blindly hoping for something different. That is my lesson learned for today. I have numerous memories of Christmases past, and many that are no doubt artificially vivid thanks to oft-viewed family photos. One such memory (and possibly representing my best ever Christmas present) was of a Cowboy dressing-up costume comprising a fringed trouser and waistcoat combo made by my Mum and a Leather pistol holster crafted by my Dad. At the age of about 5, the photo of me and my sister that Christmas morning (she wearing the nurses outfit with similar home-made provenance) epitomises to me the sentiment that I want to recapture for my kids in giving them memorable Christmases for years to come. That isn’t to say that I’ll be ignoring the lists they’ve all so diligently crafted and eschewing the crowds heading out to Black Friday sales in the pre-Christmas shopping frenzy, in favour of hand-made gifts. Or maybe I will, after all there’s that other adage about gifts and giving; “It’s the thought that counts!” Toby
Seasonal and festive holidays like Christmas can be really hard for parents not living with their children. When non-resident parents call our helpline around the Christmas period, they often feel jealous, lonely, sad, angry and resentful. Separated families may feel as though everyone else is enjoying the perfect family festivities, while they feel more isolated and alone than during the rest of the year. This situation can be distressing and tense and it can really help to talk to someone about how you feel. Some non-resident parents who call us are sad that they can’t watch their children open their presents at Christmas. From a legal point of view, it can be very frustrating for non-resident parents if the resident parent doesn’t grant access over Christmas, but it may be possible to come to an informal arrangement. It's usually best to start the conversation with your children’s other parent as early as possible, to give yourself plenty of time to come to arrangement about times and days to see the children. If, for example, the resident parent has the children on Christmas Day, you may want to arrange a time on Christmas Day when you can give the children their presents. You could suggest an arrangement of alternating the years, so that you get to spend Christmas Day with the children every other year. In the other years, you could even arrange a 'fake Christmas', when you get to do all the traditional festive things you like to do with your family, just on a different day. That way, everybody gets to have a full festive experience, and the children get to celebrate twice.
Making long-term plans
Reaching a long term deal and being flexible will work to everyone’s benefit. A separated mother said: “My eldest daughter is going to be with her dad for Christmas day this year. I'm going to miss her terribly but need to be fair to her dad. “It might sound a bit extreme, but I find it helps to plan what will happen at Christmas a year ahead. I have a rota with my daughter's dad as to who has her when. It doesn’t make it less painful not being with her when it's not my turn, but it makes it easier to plan early celebrations and visits to relatives so no-one feels they're missing out."
Seeing grandparents
This situation can also affect grandparents. The parents of the non-resident parent will be unlikely to see their grandchildren at Christmas which can be upsetting. Like the non-resident parent, grandparents could try to organise a special day, or a time around Christmas, when they could give their grandchildren presents. One separated parent said: “I find it extremely difficult handling the upset that not spending Christmas Day together causes my daughter’s grandparents who want to see her. We've arranged to have Christmas earlier so we can all be together.” Another said: “It gets me down that my ex-wife always has the children on Christmas Day and I have to wait for Boxing Day. Some years she has taken them away for Christmas and I haven’t seen them until New Year, which is really upsetting.”
How to make time together special
The time that you do spend with your children over Christmas should be special. Many separated parents try to outdo each other, which is likely to lead to stress and disappointment, as you often can’t live up to the expectations and may end up feeling second best. Similarly, non-resident parents sometimes feel that they must compete with their children’s other parent when it comes to buying presents. When one parent is spending a large amount on expensive gifts, or taking the children on a costly holiday, the other parent may feel that he or she can’t offer the same amount. This can lead to heartache, as parents may feel like they have let their children down if they cannot afford to compete.
Christmas present competition
A separated father said: “My ex-wife always seems to turn Christmas into a competition to see who can outdo the other by buying the ‘best’ presents. Every year I ask her to let me know what she’ll be buying the children so I can make sure I don’t buy the same thing, but she doesn’t. So I feel I can’t get them what they really want in case she’s got there first. In previous years I’ve been delighted to buy them something I knew was on their list, only to have them unwrap it on Boxing Day and say: ‘Thanks Dad, but Mum bought me this too.’ It’s disappointing for the children and means I’ve had to waste a lot of time changing presents afterwards.” Explaining to your children that you aren’t giving them the presents that they want can be hard, but your children will appreciate your honesty. Try not to give throw-away responses such as ‘because I said so’, but instead justify yourself, telling your child that you don’t think a gift is suitable or is overpriced. You can try to compromise with older children by saying that you will contribute towards an expensive present if they make up the difference.
Parents who have to spend Christmas alone
If you will not get the chance to see your children on Christmas Day, and will be alone, see if you can make arrangements with your friends. If anyone close to you is in the same situation, why not organise to see them; volunteer or invite them round for lunch so that you will not be by yourself. Sometimes the parent living with the children can be caused stress by a non-resident parent who doesn’t want to see his or her children over the festive period, or is unreliable. It can be heartbreaking to explain that their other parent won’t be visiting over Christmas, but it will be kinder if you remain positive, and try not to criticise him or her too much in front of the children, no matter how angry you feel. Source: http://www.familylives.org.uk/advice/divorce-and-separation/coping-with-holidays/coping-with-christmas-when-your-divorced-or-separated/
Happy Thanksgiving!
This video reflects the power of feeling grateful for all the good things in your life, no matter how small as a means of combatting fear, stress and anger.
We've all got something to be grateful for, and it's good to remember this year round, not just at Thanksgiving.
Around Thanksgiving, life has always been hectic. My ex-husband's birthday falls the day after and sometimes even on Thanksgiving, and my father's birthday is a few days after. I always scrambled to plan Thanksgiving, a date night for the then-husband and myself in honor of his special day, birthday presents and cake, and more. This is the first year and first holiday that my now ex-husband and I will be apart. This is also the first holiday I will spend sharing my daughter.
Every divorce is different. Some swap holidays by the year, some split down the middle, and some parents get all the holidays because there's an absent parent in the picture. For my family, we are splitting Thanksgiving day in half, and for Christmas, I will have Christmas Eve, and he will have Christmas Day. Since we live near each other, this has been a fairly easy setup to live by. Like many modern divorces, my ex and I have a 60/40, close to 50/50 split in parenting time. Back in the day, fathers often just got every other weekend and a few weeknights here and there, but more and more people are splitting custody down the line. People who are used to the "old divorce" model are shocked when I tell them how we split our time with our daughter.
"Don't they want her with her mother?" they say. To be honest, it makes me feel like crap. As if I have elected to just give up half of my time with her, like, "Yeah, I don't want her— you take her," but that's not the case at all. We both made her, so we both get time with her. Fifty-fifty or 60/40 in our case means many good things: It means my daughter gets to have two parents, and not just a dad she sees "every now and again." And while I won't lie —sharing her kills me, especially since I was once a mostly stay-at-home mom and now work full-time and split her schedule in half — my daughter is fortunate she has a dad who wants to spend so much time with her. So many of my friends' kids have absent fathers in the face of divorce. The fact that my ex is such a present dad is a gift to our child. And a gift to me. We made her together, so we'll raise her together, even if we can't manage to stay together. Sixty-forty means my kid gets two households. More to love, but sometimes, more of a pain. Two households mean two ways of being raised, and therefore, a child who has to negotiate which rules happen at which homes, even if my ex and I work hard to parent together in a similar manner. There are two sets of everything — that is the costly part. Last month I kept going to the closet and I couldn't find any leggings because they were at her dad's, so we figured we better double up with clothes. It means sometimes Elsa, Cinderella, and My Little Pony end up at my house when she is at her dad's. It means stuff gets lost. It means sitting in front of a calendar and trying to divvy up her time and days into two, which is exhausting. It means a color-coded calendar for a child just 3-years-old so she knows where she is on what day. She still asks us each day: "Where will I be today? What am I doing?" Some days I feel like just saying, "Here — you get this leg, and I'll get the other." It also means my little one's heart is often torn in two: it's happiness to see one parent, but heartbreaking to miss the other. This year, we felt splitting Thanksgiving made sense since it's a major holiday and we're within driving distance to one another. A big part of me is prepared for the split. I get to see her and she gets to see both families, so it's a livable way to manage the Day of Thanks. It's Christmas that I am dreading. After 11 a.m. on Christmas Day, it will just be me. No daughter. No festivities. No food. No nobody. Just me and a pile of toys that won't be played with until she comes back to the house again. Me with a heart that will be longing for my kid.
Not having my ex-husband with me to cut the turkey and count the candles on his cake is also a big life change for me. I will still have gifts and a baked good for her dad's birthday, even if we're divorcing . . . even if my birthday went relatively unnoticed. Why? Call me crazy but, that's my kid's dad. I want her to cherish him and value him. If I don't make an effort to respect him and let her enjoy making cookies for her daddy, what kind of example am I setting? And while it makes me sad to know that everything I invested time and energy in for the past eight years is now blown to pieces, I also have a certain gratitude. Despite being in the thick of divorcing, I now know that my life is moving on. There's a clean slate, so to speak, of what the future might bring for both of us. For me. Neither one of us has to feel as if we're letting the other down or feeling the dread of wondering: Will we divorce, or will we stay together? No. We won't. It's done. And now as rocky as this path may be, we both get to find happiness again, and that's no small gift. I'm thankful we made the best choice for everyone involved because now, my daughter will get the gift of two happy parents. If that means staring at the walls on Christmas Day crying while watching A Christmas Story, then so be it. As long as she doesn't have to referee our arguments or see two sad adults desperately trying to make it work while miserable failing, that's something to be thankful for. The other day when I called my daughter's school, the head of the school said to me: "You two (ex-husband and myself) are doing a great job with your daughter. She's very happy and clearly very loved. We wish all parents worked together the same way." If my ex-husband and I could pull a wishbone, that's exactly what we would both wish for: a happy and loved child. What other blessing is greater for any parent, married or divorced? Source: https://www.popsugar.com/moms/Surviving-Holidays-After-Divorce-36146622
"The bad news is nothing lasts forever. The good news is nothing lasts forever"
This video, prompted by the changing seasons reflects on the fact that change is always happening, and whether it's a positive or a negative thing based on how we feel about it, nothing lasts forever. We can accept and embrace that, or we can resist it but either way it happens.
Have a clear out of your life, shake things up, let go of the negative and cling onto (or rediscover) the positive.
