Christmas Through a Mum’s Eyes: Balancing Love, Chaos, and Everything In Between
Finding balance, setting boundaries, and embracing a “good enough” Christmas without losing yourself in the chaos.
I genuinely love Christmas, but I also need a lie-down just thinking about it. Every year, without fail, I seem to get quietly promoted to CEO of Festive Operations, responsible for the magic, memories, keeping everyone calm, and not forgetting those bloody elves who somehow manage to create even more pressure. While I want Christmas to feel special, the truth is I’m usually running on broken sleep, a brain full of half-finished lists, and whatever emotional energy I have left. Somewhere along the way, creating magical memories turned into juggling expectations no one ever actually says out loud, but somehow mums are just meant to know, enjoy, and not fall apart in the process.
There’s a hidden job description handed to you the moment you become a mum, and somewhere between master of multitasking and finder of lost shoes is festive parent. The unspoken expectation that mums just run Christmas can feel relentless. And honestly, the fact that our kids think it’s all orchestrated by a man in a red suit feels like one big cosmic joke.
As mums, we’re already the emotional thermostat of the household, and at Christmas that role gets turned up to maximum. Everyone is overwhelmed, there are carol concerts every other day, Christmas jumper days you only remember at 7am, and a million other things to keep track of. Then there’s the pressure to uphold every tradition, yes including those bloody elves, even when you’re exhausted and running on empty. The hardest part is the huge gap between how much time, care, and energy you pour into making Christmas magical and how invisible that effort can feel.
As a therapist, I see these patterns again and again in the people I work with, and I recognise them just as clearly in my own life. Parents, and particularly mums, pour so much energy into creating a joyful holiday for everyone else, quietly carrying the emotional toll that rarely gets acknowledged. Recognising both the effort it takes and the love behind it can help us approach the holidays with more compassion for ourselves and the people around us.
Social media certainly doesn’t help. It’s hard not to compare your busy, messy, real-life Christmas to picture-perfect versions on Instagram with immaculately decorated houses, carefully wrapped piles of presents, and yes, matching pyjamas. That comparison can spark self-criticism and perfectionism, even when you know deep down those expectations are unrealistic. It’s common to feel like you should be doing more, even when you’re already giving so much.
There’s an emotional tug-of-war between loving the traditions and noticing how much energy they demand. Part of us longs for recognition, not for praise, but simply for the effort to be acknowledged. Trying to keep the Christmas magic alive while feeling tired and overwhelmed can leave you drained, and it’s normal for guilt to sneak in when we notice our limits. Recognising these feelings as valid and understanding where they come from, perfectionism, comparison, or high expectations, can help us respond with self-compassion and set boundaries that protect our wellbeing.
Christmas is a full-on sensory experience, and it hits harder than you might expect. The noise, the mess, the overstimulated children, it’s normal for patience to run thin and emotions to fray, even when the season is something we genuinely enjoy. Accepting that this isn’t a personal failing but a natural response to a high-demand period can be liberating. It gives us permission to pause, take a breath, and approach the holidays with a little more compassion for ourselves, which I know personally can be lacking.
Beneath the lists, planning, and chaos is love: the desire to create meaningful memories, to see joy on little faces, to celebrate with the people we care about most. Those moments, laughing at a silly joke, watching a child open the gift they’ve been most excited about (for my youngest last year it was a whoopee cushion), or enjoying a few quiet minutes to yourself amidst the chaos, are what make it worthwhile. Accepting that Christmas can be both wonderful and tiring allows us to find balance and reduce guilt when the season feels overwhelming.
There’s also a quiet, conflicting feeling that sits underneath all of this, the not wanting these Christmases to end. Even on the days when I’m exhausted and counting down to bedtime, I’m painfully aware that my children are getting older. I know there are only so many Christmases left where the magic feels this alive, where belief is unquestioned and wonder comes easily. It’s a strange mix of longing and sadness, wanting the season to slow down while also needing it to be over. I know Christmas will still be special as they grow, just in different ways, but there’s a part of me already grieving the version of it we’re living now. Holding that tenderness alongside the chaos makes the season feel heavier at times, but it also reminds me why it matters so much in the first place.
Finding ways to make Christmas kinder on ourselves doesn’t have to be complicated. Letting go of perfection, setting small boundaries, asking for help, and prioritising what truly matters can make a huge difference. Not every tradition needs to be executed perfectly, and not every moment has to be Instagram-ready. Showing up imperfectly doesn’t make you a bad parent, it makes you human. The effort, love, and care you put in are what really count.
This year, I’m reminding myself to pause when I need it, to ask for support when it feels too much, and to focus on the moments that matter most: the laughter, the sense of love, and the little joys that will be remembered for years to come. Protecting your own wellbeing doesn’t take away from your family; it allows you to be fully present, sustainably and lovingly. Worth isn’t earned through perfection. Your presence, care, and laughter are what truly matter.
It’s easy to lose yourself in the Christmas chaos, to be so focused on making everything perfect for everyone else that you forget to check in with yourself. Between endless lists, last-minute plans, and trying to keep spirits high, it can feel like you’re moving through the season on autopilot. Protecting even small pockets of your own space, a short walk, or simply a moment to breathe can make a world of difference. Being present for your family doesn’t have to come at the cost of your own wellbeing. Remembering that your needs matter too, and giving yourself permission to pause, is not selfish; it’s part of showing up fully, lovingly, and in a way that’s sustainable. I’ve had to remind myself of this more than once, especially when I’ve noticed halfway through a festive day that I hadn’t had a single moment to myself, and that’s my cue to pause.
Christmas doesn’t have to be perfect. Embracing a good enough Christmas can take some of the pressure off and let you focus on what truly matters to your family. Prioritising laughter, shared meals, and the small moments that bring joy helps take some of the pressure off. Showing up imperfectly doesn’t make you a bad parent; it makes you human. The effort, the love, and the care you put in are what really count. This year, I’m reminding myself to focus on the moments that matter, the sense of magic and love, because that is what will be remembered and treasured for years to come.
