Christmas for a solo mother is The Season of New Hells Daily. I won’t go into the minutia of the pain-in-the-ass moments of the Holiday Season, but I will say that when you are single income household on a freelancer’s pay, the Holiday Season is nothing but a to-do list that ends with a dance into Dante’s fifth circle. It's not a waltz.

Except that the magic has to happen for the kid. Raising a kid without magic is, well, a sin.

This year, due to kittens, we skipped the tree. I made an effort to decorate and bought Christmas Shiz at Das Thrift Haus – where Der Christmas Shiz is reasonably priced. V and I crafted. We watched the Mr. Christmas Dream Holiday Makeover series on Netflix four times.

I now know Mr. Christmas better than he knows himself.  I still have no idea how to decorate for Christmas.

Fortunately, we live in a town where Christmas spirit is bought and sold on the daily. Anyone in need of a Christmas fix can pop into any store in town and mainline Christmas. To amp up the holiday fun, V and I went into town and took our traditional holiday trip to a local brewery for her favorite pretzel. We chatted with locals and said hello to a teacher from V’s school. As we were leaving, Santa was milling awkwardly on the street corner. V ran to meet him. This too felt magical. I took a photo.

We walked from shop to shop holding hands and had a true Leavenworth holiday experience. Nothing but magic. Even though we were blessed with free parking and the day felt simple, the weight of how this was going to happen – buying presents, having a limited time to work, taking additional days off for Christmas shopping and celebrations, was sinking me into anxiety. Still, I figured everything would balance out after the holiday cooking gigs were buttoned up.The gods of winter would provide.

And then one of my gigs was canceled. Because the god of winter also provide ice storms.

Tis the Season for Fuckity-Fucks!

The question of how I was going to afford Christmas was answered. I was not going to afford Christmas. I was not going to be able to afford anything but rent and bills. I was, in fact, going to have to edit Christmas.

Later that night, I looked at the live photo of V and Santa on the street corner. Someone’s voice, strained and wire-thin could be heard talking about how busy Sant must be.

Oh. That voice was mine. There was no Christmas magic in that voice. There was just general irritation and anger.

Christmas Magic doesn’t exist. It’s up to me to make it. It isn’t the presents. It’s my presence.

Humbling moments are so irritating.

So I gave up. I gave up striving. I gave up trying. I gave up doing. I got sick with the cold that gave V an extra week off from school. I leaned in.

Next year will be a different Christmas. No matter how much money I have or don’t, I won’t be buying much. Instead, I’ll be decorating, making cookies, sledding, singing, dancing, and hanging out with Mr. Christmas. It might take a year, but I’m going to learn how to make the magic happen.