A Softer December
The other morning at school drop-off, a kid wandered past wearing a full Santa hat — in early November — like it was completely normal. And in that moment, it hit me: oh boy… Christmas is speeding toward us, ready or not.
You can feel it creeping in. The “we really need to start the gift list” conversations. The flood of end-of-year invites. The kids coming home with glitter glued to their faces like festive war paint.
And meanwhile the December budget starts doing that thing where it looks at me like, “Good luck, mate.”
Honestly, most families I know (ours included) are carrying a weird cocktail of tiredness, excitement, overstimulation, and frayed nerves. It ricochets around the house. Kids absorb our stress; we absorb theirs. The whole thing is contagious.
So when I came across an idea from two writers I follow, Cyd and Geoff Holsclaw, it really stayed with me. They say families don’t just share a house; we share emotional weather. One person’s stress can feel like a cold front rolling in. One kid’s meltdown can be a sudden storm. It’s normal. It’s simply how families work. One person’s weather shifts the whole room.
They also point out that it doesn’t take much to shift things from gale-force to mildly breezy. Sometimes just one person being even slightly steadier can change the whole atmosphere. Even a small shift — a slower breath, a softer tone, one extra moment before responding — can change the temperature in the room.
There’s something about that idea that really moves me. I want my family to feel even a little more calm because of me.
But the truth is, I don’t always have that steadiness to give. I hit the wall. I get overwhelmed. And no amount of “trying harder” magically fixes that. At some point I have to admit I’m human — and being human means I need help.
For me, that’s where prayer comes in. Speaking honestly to the God who’s here, who cares, and who gives strength I don’t have on my own.
When the overwhelm hits — the tight chest, the short fuse, the “everyone please stop touching me” moment — I’ve learned I can ask for help. I need to ask for help. Out loud or in my head. Nothing poetic. Just, “God, I’m tired. Help.”
That simple honesty is the only way I’ve found to step into who I’m trying to be for my family. Not by nailing it, but by receiving the help I need. Help from the God who is never exhausted, never unkind, and never rattled by the things that undo me.
And here’s what I keep noticing: sometimes the smallest shift in me becomes the smallest shift in my kids. They borrow my steadiness the way they borrow my phrases and habits. That’s the aim — not perfection or a magical December or curating some serene “family vibe.” Just tiny moments where the day softens. And our kids feel it. They take it in. They borrow it for themselves.
So if this season already feels like a lot, you’re not doing it wrong. You’re just human.
And asking for a little help, even a whispered prayer in the car or the laundry, might be one of the kindest things you do for yourself and your kids this Christmas.
This piece was written for our 2025 Christmas Mini-Mag given to our Playgroup families.