Time marches on: How one mom is handling an Empty Nest Christmas

As many of us are in the mad scramble to prepare for another holiday season, it can be easy to forget the meaning of the season. And, truly, no matter which holidays you celebrate when, the core purpose remains constant. This is the time of year when we gather around our friends, family, and loved ones to celebrate.

But, if you’re running out of ideas when it comes to moving that damn elf, or stressing about how you’ll find the time to wrap all these flipping wish-list items under your tree, take a moment. Breathe. It’s going to be OK.

Maybe because my kids are now older teens, or maybe because, as a divorced parent, I will have to share my time with their father, this Christmas has me reflecting, reminiscing, and missing even the most annoying traditions of the season. If you’re over baking that fifth tray of cookies cursing a burned finger, or you’re considering tossing the entire damn tree over the burning yule log, I ask that you hang in there. Read on, and take a moment to yourself.

Everyone says it. They tell you all the time. “It goes so fast.” “Blink and you’ll miss it.” And, do you want to know the most annoying part of all that? They were all right.

These years go too fast. Soon my teens will be adults (not just the legally voting kind, but perhaps responsible for their own finances type). Soon, they’ll have families or loved ones of their own. Of course, we will still gather, but it isn’t the same.

I miss snuggling on the couch to watch “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” yes, for the 42^nd time this week (and yes, only the 1966 Dr. Seuss version). I long for a rosy-cheeked toddler to waddle into my kitchen, hoping to lick the spoon as I bake cookies. I would give anything to see those two magical faces on Christmas morning, after waking me far too early to come see what Santa brought.

Don’t get me wrong. Many traditions continue. We always each get our Hallmark Keepsake ornament for the year. We line them all up from each prior year of life. We still hang stockings. We exchange gifts. We bake the same sweets. Many traditions live on, and I love that part of holidays.

But it’s not the same. And the saddest part is, it never really will be. But that’s the way it goes. That’s what your parents endured, as you begged to go to your boyfriend’s house for Christmas that first year. That’s what your grandparents did, when you asked to have your children wake up in their own home for Santa. It is the tale as old as time… in fact, it is time. It is what happens. I suppose it is not “better” or “worse,” but more so the passage of that ever-ticking clock.

Maybe someday I’ll have tiny grandchildren. I’ll teach them how a mixture of raw oats and glitter not only can feed reindeer but keep your parents finding sparkles well into the summer. I’ll feed them my grandmother’s fudge recipe and tell them how my mom used to love the green spritzer sandwich cookies with little chocolate sprinkles on each end.

I’ll spoil them rotten, just like my parents did my children, and I’ll love every over-sugared, sticky-face and -finger, stressful moment of it. I’ll giggle as my adult children whine about having to go so many places on a holiday, remembering it was not so long ago that I was stuffing them into car seats, complaining about the same.

But for now, it is a rather strange and unfamiliar road for me, an empty nester’s Christmas. It makes me sad a lot. It’s new, and it is different. And I suppose I’ll get used to it someday.

Until then, I’ll get a bit misty eyed seeing your tots climb up on Santa’s lap, while one screams at the top of their lungs, and the other gets a sucker stuck in his beard. I may shoot you a knowing smile, as you straighten the dress of one as the other rips their bow out of their now-matted hair. I’ve been there. And while you curse the entire concept of the holidays, I’ll watch and wish I was back in your shoes.

It truly does go by far too quickly. And I know in the heat of it all, it seems nearly impossible to enjoy it. But do me one small holiday favor: Stop. Smile. And know, that someday, you’ll miss all of this. I promise.