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The holidays always come with this subtle pressure to rise to the moment. Not in an obvious, over-the-top way, but in a quiet sense that I need to be more patient, more prepared, more creative, and more joyful, all while life keeps moving at its normal pace. I love the holiday season. I used to handmake everyone’s gifts and spent months thoughtfully preparing, but now I’m a working mom with young kids, a long to-do list, and a limited amount of energy by the time November rolls around.
This year, though, I find myself wanting something different. A season that feels softer. A pace that feels slower. Moments that feel calmer. Maybe it’s the stage of life I’m in. Maybe it’s realizing that joy doesn’t come from more effort. Whatever the reason, I’m craving a holiday that feels like a deep breath instead of a performance.
So I’m letting some things go. Not dramatically, but in small, intentional ways that make room for peace. If you’re worn down or stretched thin or tired of chasing a “special holiday” that feels more like pressure than joy, I hope this helps you give yourself permission to let go too.
Here’s what I’m releasing this year, and what I’m choosing instead.
Letting Go of the Quiet Pressure for Perfection
I don’t expect a perfect Thanksgiving. We aren’t hosting this year and I’m grateful for that. We are going to my parents’ house, where the warmth and familiarity already create the feeling of a holiday without anyone orchestrating it.
But even though I’m not hosting, I still tend to put pressure on myself in small, specific ways. It sneaks in through things that feel simple at first. Like the chocolate pie I’m bringing this year. I’ve made it a few times and messed it up almost every time. It’s a pie my mom has always loved and it reminds her of her mom, who passed away last year. That connection makes the pie feel more meaningful than a dessert usually does.
And for a while, I start treating that pie like it carries the weight of honoring the memory. I feel this responsibility to get it right, almost as if the pie itself needs to be perfect so the moment can be perfect too.
But that isn’t true at all. My mom won’t care if the pie cracks or doesn’t set completely or looks like it came from the wrong page of the recipe book. She cares that I make it. She cares that the care and story behind it continue.
So I’m letting go of the pressure for the pie to be perfect. I’m letting it turn out however it turns out. I’m choosing to honor my grandmother through the act of showing up, not through perfection. And even writing that out feels like something in me loosens.
Letting Go of Saying Yes to Everything
Some years, the holidays feel like a steady stream of invitations. School events, class parties, work gatherings, family commitments, church programs, gift exchanges, themed days, and more. I used to think every invitation deserved a yes, because saying yes felt like doing the right thing.
But that pace doesn’t fit our life right now. I want a holiday my kids can actually enjoy, and that means slowing down. I want breathing room. I want space to experience the season instead of racing through it.
So this year, I’m choosing carefully. We’re going to the events that feel meaningful or joyful, not the ones that drain our energy. When we decline something, we do it kindly and without guilt. The holidays don’t fall apart because we skip a gathering. In fact, they feel more peaceful when we stop overcommitting.
Letting Go of Feeling Responsible for Everyone’s Experience
Moms carry an invisible role during the holidays. We manage the mood, the schedule, the packing list, the food we’re bringing, the kids’ outfits, the kids’ meltdowns, and the emotional temperature of the room. We do it instinctively.
But this year, I’m reminding myself that I’m not responsible for everyone else’s experience. I’m responsible for my kids’ needs, my own presence, and the way I show up. Beyond that, the rest isn’t mine to carry.
I can’t control the traffic or the weather or the timing. I can’t control whether naps happen perfectly, whether someone gets overwhelmed, or whether plans run late. And I definitely can’t control how everyone in the room feels or reacts.
What I can do is choose peace. I can choose not to absorb tension. I can choose not to fix every small problem. I can choose to enjoy the day without feeling like the host of everyone’s emotions.
Letting go of that pressure makes the day feel more like a holiday and less like a job.
Letting Go of Overcomplicating Traditions
I love traditions, but I’m learning that kids don’t need them to be big. They remember the tiny things. I used to feel like I had to create new traditions or revive old ones every year, but now I’m choosing ones that actually fit our life.
This year, our traditions look simple. A quick family picture before we leave for my parents’ house. A special breakfast. A book in the morning. Maybe a cozy after-dinner walk. Maybe making that chocolate pie together, even if it turns into a messy, half-helping preschooler experience.
Traditions don’t need themes or elaborate planning. They just need heart. And the simpler they are, the more likely they are to feel genuine and repeatable.
Letting Go of Trying to Prevent Every Overstimulated Moment
One thing I’m letting go of this year is the idea that I can somehow manage the kids’ emotions so well that we avoid every meltdown, every tear, and every moment of overwhelm. Holidays are a lot for little kids. New smells, new sounds, a different routine, louder rooms, unfamiliar foods. Even when the day is fun, it is still a lot.
In the past, I would show up almost bracing for impact. I’d prepare snacks, pack distractions, think through nap timing, and mentally rehearse how I’d soothe them if things got loud or busy. And while some of that preparation helps, it also puts this quiet pressure on me to keep everyone regulated every second of the day.
But that’s just not realistic. Kids get overstimulated. They get tired. They get clingy or wild or extra emotional. It’s completely normal. So this year, I’m letting myself stop trying to prevent every moment of overwhelm and simply handle things as they come. If someone needs a quiet minute, we’ll step into a calmer room. If someone needs space, I’ll give it. If someone needs an extra snack or to sit in my lap, that’s okay too.
Instead of trying to control the day, I’m choosing to stay flexible. I’m choosing not to blame myself for normal child behavior. I’m choosing to walk in knowing that overstimulation isn’t a sign of failure or bad planning. It’s just part of having little kids on a big day.
And honestly, releasing that pressure makes the entire holiday feel gentler for all of us.
Letting Go of Mom Guilt
Mom guilt seems to show up more often during the holidays. It whispers things like “You should be doing more,” “You forgot something important,” or “Everyone else has it together better than you.” It tells me I should be crafting more or cooking more or doing more seasonal activities.
But when I pause, I remember what my kids actually need. They don’t need perfect meals or perfect outfits or perfectly planned memories. They need love, comfort, stability, and a mom who is present. They need a mom who smiles and laughs with them. A mom who isn’t running herself into the ground trying to keep up with imaginary standards.
So I’m loosening my grip on mom guilt. I’m recognizing it, not feeding it. I’m reminding myself that good enough truly is enough. And I’m showing my kids that holidays can be joyful, low-pressure, and real.
Letting Go Creates Space for What Matters
Letting go feels like clearing clutter out of my mind. When I stop carrying the weight of perfection or obligation, the season feels sweeter. I notice more. I tune in more. I stop rushing past the little moments.
I hear my kids laugh in the car.
I smell the food cooking in my parents’ kitchen.
I listen to the familiar stories and soak in the warmth of being with family.
I pay attention to the small connections that make the day meaningful.
Letting go isn’t lowering the bar. It’s raising my peace.
What I’m Choosing Instead
This year, I choose a slower pace. Small traditions. Calm mornings. Memories that come from being present, not from being perfect. I choose to show up as myself, not who I think the holidays expect me to be. I choose connection. I choose ease. I choose the version of the holiday that fits my real life.
And I hope you give yourself permission to do the same.
Let go of the heavy thing. Let go of the unnecessary role. Let go of the guilt. Let go of the picture in your head that doesn’t match your life.
The holidays don’t become less special when you simplify them. They become more meaningful.