on organizing december.

Now before anyone rolls out the red carpet for the Organizing Queen of December, I think it’s best I come clean up front. I once was The Grinch. My husband walked into my life - and became my Cindy Lou Who, if we’re going to follow this analogy to its bitter end - and things changed.

But in my twenties, I dreaded the holidays. Season after season, perpetually single, I’d fly from Brooklyn to my parents’ house in the Midwest. Both brothers’ wives were birthing more and more (darling) babies. All childhood friends were in the baby making business, too. I desperately loved my creative life; I desperately wanted a family, too. These two paths felt mutually exclusive. Christmas really twisted a knife into the emptiness that was my personal life. Plus, I threw great pity parties. The hostess with the mostest. I pitied myself greatly. I was a delight during the holidays back in the day, is what I’m saying.

Then Mr. Christmas came into my life. We spent our first Christmas together in NYC. It was a long-distance relationship back then. He visited from Indianapolis. As we discussed plans for the week over the phone, it became clear to me that he loved tourist attractions. And it became clear to him that I detested them. He wanted to see the tree at Rockefeller Center, to ice skate next to it. He wanted to take me on a carriage ride around Central Park. He wanted to see lights and just generally do every cheesy activity ever.

I shuddered.
But he insisted.
I relented…
And I’ll be damned if I didn’t have fun.
It was a Christmas miracle.

Fast forward to present day, and I am a minimalist with two (fake) Christmas trees. One is devoted entirely to bird ornaments. In my TedX Talk I spoke of all the odd collections I had as a girl. Well, as a woman I have one, too. Bird ornaments. It’s a slippery slope, guys. The more birds on the bird tree, the better. I know what you’re thinking: doesn’t sound very minimalist. It’s not. There’s nothing minimalist about two fake Christmas trees in one wee stucco bungalow. But there is a ton of joy, so the chasm in values? I care not.

Not only am I in love with Christmas time, it’s also birthday season in our house. My daughter took her time arriving. We were expecting her by Thanksgiving. She had other plans and arrived in early December. My husband is also a December baby, albeit later in the season. It’s a month of celebrations.

The year of her birth - and even a year later – December was busier than usual but still rather low key. She was a baby after all. She had no idea what was going on. But by her 3rd Christmas (a newly minted two year old), I was beginning to grasp the expectations that December posed for our family in the years to come. Her birthday, the magic of Christmas, plus her daddy’s birthday. (I’m actually grateful that his is part of the mix because it’s a wonderful reprieve from the child focus - let’s make this day special about daddy.) She could partake in some cheeseball Christmas activities more and more the older she got, then one day she’d be too cool and teenagery to want to participate anymore. I’d better get my $hit together NOW because I only get one chance a year to make memories last.

No pressure!

I created an Advent calendar. I made my own Advent calendar. (Special thanks to Reading My Tea Leaves for the inspo and direction.) I was so proud of myself. And it helped me organize the month. As the years have gone on, I’ve realized that an Advent calendar - or the calendar of December in general - this needn’t be religious! - is merely a jumping off point in terms of organization. Allow me to elaborate:

When planning the Advent calendar, there will be certain items that happen on the same date every year, regardless of the day of the week that it falls on. I prefer to “deck the halls” (read: decorate) on December 1st, then “trim the tree” (ornament time!) on December 2nd. On daddy’s birthday, we always bake a carrot cake. On the 24th, the calendar always gives us an easy activity of “carrots & cookies” to leave out for the reindeer and Santa (because guess who’s too exhausted to do anything else by then? Me.)

But beyond that, the activities we do and attend fall on different dates depending on the day of the week. It’s not rocket science, but some thoughtful planning goes a long way. When full-time school started, I shifted all the simplest crafts to weekdays. If a child is exhausted after a day of school, she can still cut out paper snowflakes, for instance. But attending the Nutcracker? Maybe buy tickets for the weekend. Watching a Christmas movie might be swapped into the mix more than once, should someone come down with a cold and miss school. I even have a “Lazy Day” “activity” to swap into the calendar if I find that we are particularly wiped out and rest is in order.

The idea is that the calendar is fluid and willing to change. We awake to freshly fallen snow? I swap in “sledding with daddy” before anyone else wakes up. I have it all on a spreadsheet so I needn’t open every wee envelope to find the right swap.

Also, the spreadsheet has a column for supplies. Many of my activities are repeated (traditions I’ve heard them called). If I’ve sketched out a rough calendar by mid November, I can shop all supplies before I even shop for Thanksgiving ingredients. I can’t express the delight I get from waking up and opening an envelope for a craft, knowing all the supplies are in my home (and I don’t need to make a mad dash to the craft supply store).

With practice, I’ve learned other ways to help myself. Once I’ve etched out the activities, I have a sense of when I’ll need help (read: carryout) for dinner, and when I can batch cook a meal to get us through a few days. So now, I’ve added a MEALS column that I can plot out based on the day of the week and the Advent calendar activity associated with it. After a day of baking cookies, I’m not going to want to do anything else in the kitchen. Honesty with myself and my capacity makes planning feel helpful, not aspirational.

But since her birthday also falls in December, I’ve created a GIFTS sheet. Turns out, despite all my talk of minimalism, I LOVE buying my daughter gifts. And I do so throughout the year. In the early years of her existence, I’d then hide them, forget that I bought them, and continue to buy more. So I started tracking gifts… ALL gifts - teachers and mailmen, in-laws and godchildren. I track prices to keep myself in line, especially since I buy haphazardly throughout the year. When I see something throughout the year for any of these people - I can note it on the sheet and am reminded in early November that I’ve already decided, or already purchased. I add to her list as I buy throughout the year, then divvy up the gifts between her birthday and Christmas (depending on what someone asks Santa for).

Lastly, I have an ADDRESS sheet for holiday cards. When we learn that people have moved, I can hop onto my laptop and update before I forget.

Listen, this is my reality. I am forgettable. I organize because I am forgettable. But I prefer not to drop too many balls. In December, I juggle a lot of balls. So many are in the air. But by sketching out plans, I have a shot at having fun, too, not just the kiddo. My Scrooge days are behind me; I get to create magic. I want to enjoy that magic. But if I’m swimming in chaos and picking up balls instead of juggling them, my enjoyment goes out the window.

This spreadsheet is my gift to me. And I’m offering it to you, too. When you sign up for my monthly newsletter, I’ll send you a downloadable copy. It will be a READ ONLY excel spreadsheet, so you must save it to your computer (or your Google drive) to then make it your own. But make it your own. Let it become your assistant. Because we all know that real magic? More often than not it’s just a well-executed plan of action.