When my son Ezra attended fifth grade I took a personal day to help in his class Holiday party. For Working mothersThe holiday is a tough time to voluntarily in the classroom. In my case, I had to do with the end of the year, secure the budget and the number of staff for next year and the companies’ holiday parties after work. As one provider wifeTaking time off was tough, but I knew this would be a rare opportunity to interact with Ezra’s entire class and meet some of his classmates.
The night before the party emailed class mom who organized the party all the other mothers who volunteered (yes, it was only mothers that day) with their assignments. My assignment helped children use a glue gun to attach felt shapes to a snowman. Immediately I called my neighbor who has three daughters and asked her what a glue gun was and how to use it.
When I went into the classroom, I was in reverence over what class mother and her helpers had put together – six separate stations with crafts that came out and looked as if they could be sold on Etsy. She was the same mother who invited the whole class to her son’s birthday party, where Ezra got a gift bag that I wanted to co-opt for myself.
The glue gun seemed fiddly, hot and dangerous. After a few minutes of seeing me fighting, Klasmamma seemed to be a pity for me and thankfully awarded me to a new station where no one risked being alleviated.
To say that I am not “cunning” is an understatement. Fortunately, my two sons were low maintenance when it came to decor and never suggested baking as an activity for a play date or sleep. We are Jewish and therefore do not have a Christmas tree (the idea of decorating one literally causes me palpitations).
There are so many different components that gather to make me feel less than as a wife and a mother.
I consider myself a pretty safe person. Sit me on a podium in front of hundreds of conference participants and I can keep my own. Challenges the guy who has held the pool table in the last five games, no problems. To host dinner and cocktail parties at home comes with ease (thanks to my husband, Travis, Chef in our household). My role as a hostess consists of witty repartee, heavy stoves and remediation. But during the holidays I seem to lose my mojo. In fact, in the last decade I have declined invitations to an annual “cookie Exchange” party, even though it is worthy of one of my closest friends. This is only partially explained by the fact that I do not like to bake. The real reason for my avoidance: to avoid being assessed for my lack of domestic skills.
Although I am very comfortable in my Anti-Martha Stewart-Persona, the holiday can still trigger. There are so many different components that gather to make me feel less than as a wife and a mother. In general, mothers are responsible for buying holiday decor and gifts, packaging gifts and getting the annual holiday card. For example, I know that other mothers put together holiday cards that start to arrive immediately after Thanksgiving and have smiling and matching family members who pose in healthy or exotic sites. Our neighbors go out when it comes to holiday lighting and decor; My sons the classmates’ mothers perfectly turn into gifts for their teachers. I am surrounded by homemade fudge, peanut brittle and cookies – which are delicious until they make me feel guilty for not returning. As a brewing winner, I have never been skilled in “domestic art” and have relied on my husband (who was a home dad for a decade) for most of shopping and preparation of delicious meals.
So back to the cookie change – which I have been invited every year for the past decade. During the first few years I could pray for this day party based on my work schedule. In recent years I have had more flexibility in my work schedule, but have still decreased. I am good friends with all participants, so it is not social anxiety that prevents me from participating. Recently, I realized that I had become Cookie Curmudgeon, mostly because everything I had baked and shared would look unappetized compared to the gourmet cakes they would be placed next to it. It is stressful for me to think about how to package said cookies in something other than a ziploc bag. Again, these are my good friends, who understand my strengths. They know that if you need a custom crossword or scavenger hunt, or have to plan and manage finances for a girl weekend, I’m your crazy. So why would a trained, safe woman get nervous to participate in a cake with her good friends? Maybe she (that is, I) should come across this anxiety.
This year I have nothing to do with a end of the year. And I have decided to release my uncertainties. I even said yes to the cookie change. I will bake cookies (peanut butter blooms, which seem pretty idiot). I will proudly pack them in Ziploc bags. And I will appreciate my friends much more artistic presentations without feeling bad about myself.
After several years of struggling with guilt and anxiety not to be the “perfect” parent and party guest during the holidays, other changes have actually helped me enjoy this time with my family and friends. First, we started sending out Valentine’s day cards instead of holiday cards, because it is too stressful for me to get them out before the end of the year. I also bring cheese plates (filled with really tasty, stylish cheese) to other people’s dinners or cocktail parties – not a cheese board, think of you, but generally universally appreciated. And in the end I stay proud in my lane. I know that my friends appreciate the many things I can (and do) for our relationships – fun, planning and even spreadsheets. I continue to lean into these strengths, especially during the holidays. Someone else can cover Darn Halls.
Michele MadanskyPHD, is a digital research and advertising and sought after media and market research consultant. During her 15 years as a consultant, she has worked with the best digital brands and media companies, including Spotify, Pinterest, Youtube and Adobe. Dr. Madansky holds a bachelor’s degree from Brown University and an MBA and doctorate from the University of Chicagos Booth School of Business.