I used to love holidays as a kid. All holidays. Thanksgiving, Chanukah, Passover, Halloween, 4th of July. They were there to look forward to. The excitement. The presents. The food. The candy. The fireworks.
As an adult with my own children, my feelings have certainly changed. The holidays come around much more quickly than they did when I was 12. Just when I finally get organized enough to put away the decorations from one holiday, another one is right around the corner. Time is flying fast. Too fast.
Holidays as an adult don’t mean the same. As an adult, there are preparations, extra purchases, gifts to think about, cooking and cleaning to do. I won’t even mention the family arguments like who’s house are we going to go to and should we do pot luck or gift exchanges. It often boils down to making yet another list of things to do. And doing them.
As a kid, I didn’t have to do anything other than show up. I got to play with my cousins, get presents and eat great food (food that the adults had to shop for and prepare for me). There were no worries.
I still love to see my kids faces when they open their gifts or dump out their bag of candy, and I love that they get caught up in the excitement of the holidays. That’s what should happen. But for me… they just aren’t the same as they used to be. Maybe because it reminds me that I’m getting older. Maybe it reminds me that my kids are getting older.