My neurodivergent daughter reminds me of the magic to be found in the holidays

As a child I loved the holidays, especially Christmas. Decorating and preparing for the holiday season felt like sprinkling everything with pixie dust. The holidays felt happier for me, perhaps because everyone tried to be on their best behavior. 

Even into my teen years, magic could be found by laying under the Christmas tree after dark and staring up into the lighted branches. I wanted to soak up all the festivities and the memories before the magic melted away the day after Christmas. 

One thing about having children I looked forward to the most was celebrating the holidays and making new memories and traditions together as a family around a crackling fire. The latter part of the dream was quickly doused when I realized that we didn’t have a fireplace to hang stockings on, much less to light a fire in. I also didn’t realize all of the work it takes to make the holiday magic happen before becoming a mom.

My neurodivergent daughter is obsessed with holidays, especially Halloween through New Year’s, which means that fall can be both an incredibly exciting and exhausting time. She especially loves the decorating part. Once one holiday is over we pull out one of our decoration totes and say goodbye to the various banners and holiday themed stuffed animals. Then we say hello to a new holiday’s worth of mantel ghosts, bunnies or Santas and haphazardly pasted together craft projects from three years ago.

It means our first floor is a constant state of holiday cheer from September through April. Definitely not a Country Living spread-style holiday. More like the Whos from Whoville and Jack Skellington teamed up with a 5-year-old to decorate. Our holidays don’t look exactly how I envisioned them when dreaming of a cozy family Christmas, but they have kind of grown on me. 

Currently an Elf on the Shelf and a bendy reindeer are riding on a firetruck and trash truck in our living room. There’s a skeleton still on our fridge and our front windows are covered with decorated Christmas trees and gingerbread girls and boys held up with about 10 pieces of tape. The fireplace mantel is mostly my territory (a fireplace with a mantel was a non negotiable in the hunt for a new house), so at least there is a “tasteful” display of family heirloom decorations next to our Christmas tree covered with ornaments made of bent pipe cleaners, beads and scraps of construction paper.

Just like I did as a child, my daughter tries in her own way to make the holiday magic and memories last longer. New this year was a desire to memorialize every piece of Halloween candy by asking for a picture of the back, front and the candy inside the wrapper. Definitely a bit odd (and draining), yes, but it does remind me of child-me (okay, maybe adult-me too) that wanted to keep the tree up just a little while longer with the unwrapped presents underneath and extend Christmas just a few more days.

A neurodivergent child, who has a neurodivergent mom, and the overwhelm of the holidays can lead to a whole lot of anxiety and dysregulation. Breaks from school mean that my daughter’s routine is thrown off, which usually means more meltdowns. So I’ll be honest, school breaks for the holidays usually fill me with dread of all the things that could potentially go wrong.

Even though I am glad when my daughter returns to school in January, she constantly reminds me of the joy that can be found in the simple magic of the holidays. Whether it’s placing the star on the top of the tree or taking our Thanksgiving turkeys, Gobble and Bawk, for a drive around the living room.