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This is the time that I sit down and write myself a Christmas letter. Today I’ll date it October 2017. I’ll write to myself about this last week. Everything I loved, everything that went wrong. Usually I implore myself to stay on budget, remind myself that the stuff was not the best part of the season, take note of the things that made each child light up.
Last year it ran for two pages, typed.
You see, by next October, when I start thinking and planning for Christmas in earnest again, I generally have forgotten how much fondue cheese we needed, how many bottles of wine we went through, how much we spent on the Christmas party.
And the important things, like, make sure not-a-morning-person daughter gets to sleep in; give older son plenty of time to be with his friends, he is building his own life; set aside time for husband to go play basketball with our youngest, they treasure that.
I fold it, three-hole-punch it and put this physical paper letter in my daytimer, just behind the October tab.
Because there won’t be commercials reminding me to read out loud to my kids (who still LOVE that and tell me so); the flyers and catalogs and ads won’t remind me that Grandma loves to make gingerbread houses with the kids, be sure to carve out at least two hours for this; and I definitely need reminding that my husband loves the last minute rush of buying gifts, let him do this without nagging or frowning at him.
Write yourself a letter. What do you want to remember? What would you do differently? What was a wild success that you want to be sure to do again?