Making Holiday Magic Is Less Overwhelming When I Get Off Social Media

Do you remember your happy Christmases as a child? It didn’t matter if your mom did a Ralph Lauren Christmas or a farmhouse Christmas. It never occurred to you that there was a bucket list of Christmas activities for your mom to order and print and hang or that other families were doing full-on obstacle courses of Christmas lights in their hallways. Not once, I bet, did you think “this Christmas movie night would be so much better if mom had bought a hot cocoa bar from Target and given us 18 topping choices and also had a projector and strung paper snowflakes from the ceiling while we watched The Santa Clause.

And that’s because you had perfectly magical Christmases... without social media.

It’s something I’m constantly reminding myself as a mom of three. I have always been a “magical” kind of person. I love putting energy into things I care about; I love going above and beyond to make an already nice moment into something lovelier; I love being a Clark Griswold.

But even I have my limits — and social media has truly made me feel inadequate as a magical parent.

So I have to block it for myself during the holidays.

For a long time, I thought I could keep it as inspiration for holiday magic. I promised myself up and down that I was a grown-up who knew the difference between real life and a highlight reel. I was certain that I could watch a video of a woman giving her kids full Christmas trees in each of their rooms with ornaments to unwrap each day leading up to Christmas, and remember that she was an influencer whose entire job was to do things like that, whether she wanted to or not.

But it turns out I can’t.

And I want holiday magic to feel like it did when I was a kid. Or how it felt when I first became a mom and got to be in charge of the magic for my own girl. Not once did I ever think my daughters’ Christmases were lacking until the last few years, when the algorithm expanded and the accounts quadrupled, and suddenly everyone is showing me the exact way to make a twinkling garland for your ceilings while working on a Christmas puzzle as a family.

Because a Christmas puzzle at the kitchen table with a cup of hot chocolate — yes, even if it’s not in a holiday mug — is magical enough. Our walks down the street to view our neighbors’ Christmas lights? Magical. The same ornaments we’ve had for over a decade on the tree? Magical. The one pair of Christmas pajamas we all love? Magical.

Honestly, what other moms are doing for Christmas is truly none of my business. Not once as a kid did I ask my friends what their Christmas tree looked like. Never have I gone to someone’s house and questioned their outdoor decorations or asked if I could see their stockings up close to compare to my own. I love our Christmas, and it’s so important to remember that social media can be a tool for inspiration — but we have to know when we’re no longer using it to help us, but instead using it to punish ourselves.

Of course there are good ideas out there, and of course sharing some joy and whimsy is a lovely thing. But when I get off of social media for a while and touch grass — or a sprig of holly, I guess — I feel more confident in my own Christmas traditions, more excited for the holidays. The quieter the outside noise, the more I can focus on what matters to me and to my family.

And isn’t that what Christmas is all about?