The holidays are skipping up at break-neck speed, and, like every year, they seem to have caught me off-guard yet again. I went from not wanting to do anything for Halloween to organizing a quick and dirty scavenger hunt for my group of English-speaking friends in Bulgaria. Apparently Thanksgiving is this week, and I still haven’t bought a turkey. Yes, once again I will be playing chicken with defrost times and food poisoning. It’s a tradition. And then comes Christmas — which we plan to have at our home for the first time. I’m sort of holding on, hoping it all goes well, and pushing down the not-so-secret momma shame that seems imbued in all holidays.

Which, thinking of Holiday expectations and the role of the mother brings me back to two of my pieces of writing.

And Someone Has To Do It

You can read this holiday-themed short story for free online in Apex magazine. It’s inspired by my failure to buy a turkey every year and the way I feel like I’m denying my children their culture when I’m too tired, depressed, or ambivalent to go all-out for the holidays. Of course, they have a father. But — are there any fathers that organize and hold holidays? I’m sure they exist the same way I’m sure the anglerfish exists: I’ve heard tale, but they may as well be unicorns.

Casual

My second holiday read this year is my novel Casual, which may be an odd story to be thinking about. After all, Casual doesn’t have any Christmas scenes. It’s summer and fall. But it is all about the things a mother holds. The stress of making the right decision for your children. The balance between the history of your family and the future you want to build. This is, essentially, the heart of my holiday anxiety. It’s so clear that I can’t believe I didn’t put a holiday scene in the book. So, if you’re looking for a respite from the holiday cheer and want to hole up in a dark ball of motherly anxiety for a couple of days — then by all means pick up Casual for the holidays.

Now that I write it, that doesn’t sound like much of an advertisement. But for me, that release, and the comfort of knowing there are other imperfect mothers, is what I long for when days are short.