Christmas with Kids: Protecting the Magic (and Your Sanity) During the Holidays
- Krizia Tascone-Mihalj
- Dec 21, 2025
- 7 min read
Updated: Dec 23, 2025
There’s a part of Christmas no one really posts about. Not the matching pyjamas, not the perfectly lit tree, not the children smiling sweetly in front of a gingerbread house that they’re desperate to break and eat.
I mean the logistics. The negotiations. The quiet dread that starts creeping in around the middle of November when you realise it’s happening again — the annual emotional rollercoaster of trying to keep everyone happy without losing your mind.
Because somehow, Christmas can go from “a magical time for kids” to a full-blown family meeting where you’re expected to juggle three generations of traditions, a million opinions, and enough planning to feel like you’re organising your wedding all over again. Your traditions, your partner’s traditions, your parents’ expectations, your in-laws’ expectations, siblings, partners, partners’ families… and before you know it, you’re staring at the calendar and saying to yourself… “F**k it! Next year we’re going away for Christmas”.
The traditions didn’t start with us — but we’re the ones carrying them
And the thing is… it all makes sense. Everyone wants to hold onto what feels familiar. What feels safe. What feels like Christmas for them. Most people aren’t trying to be difficult. They’re just repeating what they’ve always known — because their parents did it, and their parents did it, and nobody ever really stopped to ask, “Does this still work?”
But when you’ve got small children, it often doesn’t.
Because families with little kids aren’t just joining in with Christmas. They’re trying to survive it. And not in a dramatic way (okay, sometimes dramatic – there’s always one tantrum in front of the lego store), but in a very real, very practical way. The kind where you know if you push too hard — too many places, too many people, too much noise — you don’t get a “magical Christmas Day.” You get overstimulated kids, missed naps, tears, snacks thrown, and a meltdown in someone’s driveway while you whisper through clenched teeth, “Merry Christmas!”
When Christmas becomes about adults (and kids pay the price)
Even with all the inevitable overstimulation and craziness of the holidays, so many of us still do it. We still rush around. We still squeeze everyone in. We still say yes to things we don’t want to do because saying no feels like a betrayal.
Which is nuts, when you really think about it, because this season isn’t actually meant to be about the adults.
It’s meant to be about the kids.
And somewhere along the way we’ve forgotten that - Not because we don’t care, but because December is a lot.
The to-do list grows. There’s shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, messaging, RSVPs, school “last days”, end of year concerts, work commitments and “just one more thing.” You move through it all like you’re ticking boxes, just trying to get to Christmas Day in one piece.
And in that mode — the “just get through it” mode — you can miss what’s sitting right in front of you.
Because to our kids, this isn’t a hectic month of obligations. It’s magic.
It’s the years where they genuinely believe the elf is alive and causing chaos overnight. It’s the years where Santa isn’t a guy in a costume at the shopping centre — he is Santa. It’s the years where driving around to look at fairy lights feels like the greatest adventure anyone has ever had, and carols in the car aren’t cheesy — they’re comforting. They’re the soundtrack to drifting off to sleep with their little hearts full of wonder.
And the hard part is: there aren’t many of those years.
The Santa question that slams you into reality
We don’t really realise it while we’re in it, but the window is small. There are only a few Christmases where kids truly believe — fully, purely, completely — in the whole thing. The elf. The reindeer. The magic. The impossible. And once the logic starts creeping in, that innocence begins to shift.
Leonardo (my 5yo) reminded me of that in the most beautiful and mildly terrifying way, when he asked a question that really shifted my perspective.
“How is Santa at all the shopping centres that we go to?”
And in that moment, I had two thoughts at once. The first was: holy hell, you are so smart. The second was: please don’t ruin this for yourself yet, because I’m not ready. I’m not ready for the day where the magic of Christmas is just a story and not something you can feel in your bones.
That’s what we’re protecting. Not the tradition timeline. Not the adult expectations. Not the obligation to show up everywhere.
We're protecting the magic.
There are too many people to please — so stop trying
If we’re honest to ourselves, trying to keep everyone happy at Christmas often means one thing: your own family becomes the one that’s compromised.
Your kids become the ones who are rushed, overstimulated, dragged from house to house, made to perform “gratitude” while they’re exhausted. And you become the one carrying the mental load of it all, trying to keep the peace, trying to keep the kids calm, trying to keep yourself from snapping.
It becomes about pleasing everyone else, and then you wonder why you feel flat when it’s over. Why you feel anxious in the lead-up. Why you don’t feel that “Christmas spirit” everyone talks about.
Because it’s hard to feel festive when you’re running on adrenaline and obligation - you’ve seen all the ‘Christmas mum’ meme’s and reels, and I know you’ve shared them with your girlies as a laugh, but the reality is that you’re living it.
This is where the uncomfortable truth comes in: there are simply too many people to please. It’s not even possible. And when it’s not possible, something has to give.
You’re allowed to start your own traditions
So what if, instead of stretching yourselves thinner every year, you chose to protect the people who actually live under your roof?
What if you let Christmas be about your kids, not everyone’s expectations?
What if you decided that it’s okay — more than okay — for families with small children to start their own traditions? Because you’re not a child anymore, following your mum’s Christmas because your grandmother insisted.
In our family Christmas is at our house again this year. We’re not following our family’s way because that’s how it’s always been done. We’re the parents now. We’re building our family culture. And that means we are choosing what Christmas looks like in our home. Lots of silly games - both on the lawn and via the Nintendo (because it’s going to be 40 degrees), lots of fun and hopefully everyone joins in on actually celebrating the joy!
Boundaries feel awful the first time (and then… they don’t)
The hardest part, of course, is the first time you say it out loud.
The first boundary always feels heavy. It feels like you’re breaking a rule you didn’t even agree to. It feels like you’re being selfish or ungrateful, even when you’re not. Because when you change the pattern, people notice. People react. People take it personally.
But a boundary isn’t a punishment. It’s not a rejection of your parents or your in-laws. It’s simply a decision.
“We’re keeping Christmas simple this year.”
“We’re staying home in the morning so the boys can have that magic.”
“We’ll visit later / tomorrow / Boxing Day.”
“This year we’re choosing what works best for the kids.”
That’s it. That’s the boundary. And yes, it might feel awkward the first time. You might get guilt tripped. You might get passive comments. You might feel like you have to over-explain.
But here’s what I know: once you do it once, it gets easier. Not because the situation magically becomes simple, but because you start to trust yourself. You stop asking for permission to prioritise your own family. And that’s a beautiful thing!
I have created a FREE 'Mama Interrupted' Mini Guide with scripts and tips on how to set boundaries and advocate for your famiy during the holiday season.
⬇ ⬇ ⬇
The version of Christmas your kids will actually remember
For us, there was a slow shift that happened when we start taking the reins back on our family time. Christmas slowed down. It felt (and still feels) lighter. It feels less like a performance and more like a season.
We began to notice and be present and engaged in the small moments again — the ones I hope our kids will remember. The car ride to see the lights, the fun game nights we had in the week leading into Christmas, the way our family gathers on Christmas day to join in on the games and laughter and simply be together.
That’s Christmas.
Not the perfectly timed and very overindulgent feast for lunch. Not the obligation to attend every family or ‘chosen-family’ (our friends) gathering. Not the pressure to keep traditions alive just because they’ve always existed. No crazy mum rushing around the shops. No exhaustion. Just pure Christmas spirit and a lot of joy!
Your kids come first. Full stop.
For our family, this season is about the kids. About their wonder. About their belief in something bigger than logic. About the feeling that the world can be magical.
So if you’re feeling the pressure building, if you’re already anxious about the negotiations, if you’re bracing yourself for the family expectations — let this be your reminder.
You’re allowed to choose your own traditions. You’re allowed to say no. You’re allowed to slow down. You’re allowed to protect the magic for your kids, even if it disappoints someone else.
Because there are only so many Christmases where Santa can be everywhere at once.
And those years are precious.
💙💚
Mama Interrupted
I have created a FREE 'Mama Interrupted' Mini Guide with scripts and tips on how to set boundaries and advocate for your famiy during the holiday season.
⬇ ⬇ ⬇
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