Every year I become briefly convinced that Christmas is a set design problem. That if the tree is tall enough, the lights are warm instead of “interrogation white,” the ribbon is wired and obedient, and the house smells like pine, clove, and quiet wealth, then surely all will be perfect. This belief has never been supported by evidence, yet by mid-December I am rearranging ornaments like a woman bargaining with the universe through glass baubles. It all starts innocently—a wreath, a candle, some twinkle lights – a tasteful nod to the season. Then, after too many trips to HomeSense I am suddenly holding a $47 ornament shaped like a mushroom because it’s whimsical. 

I keep going, telling myself that decor is about atmosphere. Ha! The wine knows better – it’s about control. I genuinely believe, after two glasses, that a stunningly orchestrated holiday-scape will bring perfection to my life. Improve my relationships. Prevent arguments and disappointments. Create magic. Give me a chance to live in a Hallmark movie.

But here’s the thing – I hate Hallmark movies. I have tried to watch THREE this year and bailed on all of them! So why do I decorate like a madwoman? Why does my living room look like Christmas vomited all over it?

Maybe it’s because decorating is easier than managing expectations, easier than admitting we’re terrified of disappointment, easier than saying we want Christmas to feel good instead of look good. So I keep adjusting garlands and swapping throws and convincing myself that when I finally get it perfect … when I finally get it perfect – what? What exactly do I think will happen?

Santa will appear? With reindeer? My beautifully festooned home will suddenly be filled with family, friends, extra dogs and love? The demons that constantly bark in my ears will vanish? Everyone’s secret wishes will be granted and contentment will rule the land?

Unlikely.

With this holiday season (and every one before) I have learned one big lesson – expectations equal disappointment.

So this year I am aspiring to allow the tree to lean slightly to the left. I hung the lights myself (first time ever) and that tangled web can be dealt with in January. When my son finally places the ornaments on the tree I will NOT furtively rearrange them when he is not looking. I will survey my fantasy Christmas-land with appreciation; not with a decorator’s evil eye, demanding perfection. The performance is over. I want my house to feel lived in instead of staged. I will let the decor be festive instead of aspirational and I will stop asking it to carry emotional weight it was never designed for.

True Christmas can never be ruined by crooked garlands. It can be ruined by pretending those garlands matter more than the people beneath them. Or even the person who hung them. 

My Christmas wish for you is this – enjoy the twinkle however it lands. And relish the imperfection of a wonderfully imperfect life. Also … keep your sense of humour. Christmas can and should be fun.

(AI can help with this.)