this i believe - must the show really go on?

I have a terrible memory from last Christmas that I’m planning to use as a touchstone to help us create a merrier holiday this year.

I was sitting at my kitchen table addressing 225 Christmas cards, Charlie was crying in his room because I told him that I couldn’t read “the reindeer book” to him until I finished the cards, and Ellen was upset and sitting alone in the dark living room because it was once again too late to start a “Polar Express” family movie night. I don't remember the detail of Steve's whereabouts, but I think he was out doing last-minute teacher gift shopping.

At some point the sulking and crying was too much so I stood up and yelled, “I’m sorry. I HAVE to finish these cards! They’re not going to address themselves! Everyone wants to send them but I’m the one who has to make it happen!”

The house got very quiet.

I wish I could tell you that wisdom washed over me and I put the cards away. I'd love to end the story by writing, "I gathered my children in my arms, we drank hot cocoa, and I read from one of our lovely Christmas books."

Nope. I was like, “Thank God! It's quiet.”

I remember telling myself, “Oh, well. The show must go on.”

And it did. The cards went out. The presents were wrapped. The cookies baked. We were at everyone’s houses as scheduled.

It was exhausting and I was just waiting for it to be over.

Don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t the victim of this holiday circus, I was the ringmaster.

We live in a world where life can easily become pageantry, and the best performers make it look balletic and effortless. Of course, there's no such thing as an effortless holiday show. If you sneak a peek behind most people's red velvet curtains at holiday time, you'll often see houses brimming with anxiety, maxed-out credit cards, crying children, and marriages that make the cold war look warm and fuzzy.

I'm convinced that the only way out of this is by cancelling the show. Not cancelling the holiday, but giving up the show.

For us, that means making some changes. We do love our holiday cards, but this year we’ll make a party out of addressing envelopes and I won’t insist on doing it myself so it’s “right.” PS - If you’re on our list, your cards will arrive sometime between mid-December and Valentine’s Day.

After 20 years of drawing names at our big family holidays, we’ve decided to only buy for the kids and to keep the gifts small and meaningful. We’re also going strictly homemade (us or Etsy) for teacher and neighbor gifts. And, most importantly, we will make a list of all of the holiday family things that we want to do together and those will take priority.

Rathering than always insisting that, “The show must go on!” I'm going to ask these two questions: "Is this a part of us or part of the show?" and "Does it really need to go on?"  I think our holiday will be better for it.

I also think our culture could benefit from some show-stopping questions. I’m worried about the reality shows that use children as props. From the balloon story and "the real housewives" to Jon and Kate Plus 8 – I think kids are at the greatest risk.

Granted, I’ve never seen a single show about the Gosselin family, but I did read an interview that quoted them as saying that only thing they could agree on in their divorce proceedings was, “The show must go on.”  With eight children trying to feel to feel their way through an extremely difficult time, it seems to me that the least important thing to agree on is “the show going on.”

It doesn’t matter if the show happens at our kitchen tables or is broadcast nationally, what price do we pay for life as spectacle?

When our lives become pageants, we become actors. When we become actors, we sacrifice authenticity. Without authenticity, we can’t cultivate love and connection. Without love and connection, we have nothing.

The phrase, “The Show Must Go On” originated in the 19th century with circuses. According to James Rogers, if an animal got loose or a performer was injured, the ringmaster and the band tried to keep things going so that the crowd would not panic.

This year there will be no band. No ringmaster. We’re going to say “yes” to small and quiet and “no” to the three-ring circus. That’s not to say that there won’t be panic and loose animals. That’s a given around here. 

I'd love to hear your thoughts on "the show!"

tgif + believe giveaway

Happy TGIF.

I'm in a strange and tender place right now. I don't really know how to describe it except to say that I'm feeling way too grown-up. Ellen and I did a dress rehearsal for Halloween and she took my breath away.

I looked at her - dressed just like I used to dress - and thought, "OMG. I'm her mom!" I love being a mom more than anything, but I think I convinced myself that Ellen and Charlie would stay little forever. At least little enough that I could keep pretending that I'm a kid too - that the stacks of mail belong to someone else - that I can be sheltered from hard news - that someone else is in charge - that my parents can fix everything.

I found this video on Katherine's site. It's based on her wonderful book, Everyone is Beautiful (click here to read an interview I did with Katherine) I think this video does an amazing job communicating the bittersweet experience of growing up.

So, today

I'm trusting that it's OK be happy where you are and still miss where you were.

I'm grateful for the many joyful moments I had growing up AND the incredibly joyful moments and memories that we're making now.

I'm inspired by the power of friendship. These vulnerabilities are so much easier to navigate with good friends by your side.

To celebrate TGIF, I'm giving away a copy of the beautiful "Believe" book from Compendium, Inc.

To win, just let leave a comment before Monday and tell us:

What are you trusting today?

What are you grateful for?

What are you inspired by?

Happy Halloween and Happy TGIF!

just for fun

I'm adding a couple of new regular features on the blog, inlcluding "Just for Fun."

Why? Because who couldn't use more fun?

So, my good friend Laura and her friend Jeannie have this awesome question list called Uncle Jessie's meme (don't ask because I think involves having to choose between kissing Darth Vadar or Uncle Jessie from The Dukes of Hazard). I don't ask, but I do use it for my inspiration interviews. 

Just for fun - I'm going to change up one of their questions for today:

What song do you hate so, so, so much that you would risk life and limb to turn it off?

I have a first place winner and a runner-up.

Worst song for me EVER: Mr. Mister's Broken Wings 

Runner up: West End Girls by the Pet Shop Boys.

These must have come out around the same time - the time period that I refer to as my very dark days. Blech!

Your turn!