Why I'm Skipping the Christmas Eve Party (And What I'm Doing Instead)
I got the invitation three weeks ago.
Annual Christmas Eve party. Same place, same people, same expectation that you'll show up because "it's tradition."
I'm not going.
And I'm not apologizing for it anymore.
What I'm Doing Instead
Christmas Eve at my house:
Hot chocolate (the real kind, not the powder)
Christmas movie on the couch with my kid
Pajamas by 6 PM
Cozy blankets
Nothing planned after that
It looks almost identical to every other night this week.
And that's exactly the point.
Why I'm Choosing This
I'm Not Feeling Social
December is exhausting. By Christmas Eve, I've done:
School events
Work obligations
Family gatherings
Gift shopping in crowded stores
The mental load of making sure everyone else's holiday is covered
One more party with small talk and forced cheer?
I'd rather sit in silence with my kid watching Elf for the 47th time.
I'm Tired
The kind of tired where even "fun" things sound exhausting.
The kind where the idea of:
Getting dressed in something festive
Driving somewhere
Being "on" for three hours
Making conversation
Smiling through it
...makes me want to cancel Christmas entirely.
At 43, I've learned: Pushing through exhaustion for social obligations doesn't make me a better person. It makes me a resentful one.
Big Gatherings Are Sensory Nightmares
Here's what actually happens at the Christmas Eve party:
Loud conversations overlapping in every room
Bright lights and overstimulation
Too many people in too small a space
Kids overtired and melting down by 8 PM
Me, exhausted, trying to manage my own regulation while everyone else is "having fun"
And then Christmas morning.
Which requires energy, presence, and patience.
Sensory overload at a party can ruin the whole next day.
I'm choosing to protect Christmas morning instead.
What This Actually Looks Like
6:00 PM: Pajamas We're in them. Both of us. The fancy outfit stays in the closet.
6:30 PM: Hot Chocolate Made on the stove, not the microwave. Marshmallows. The kind of cozy that actually requires effort but is worth it.
7:00 PM: Movie Starts Probably Home Alone. Maybe The Grinch. Definitely something we've both seen before because predictability is soothing.
8:30 PM: Kid Falls Asleep on the Couch I cover them with a blanket. I don't move them. I just sit there.
9:00 PM: I Go to Bed Not because I have to. Because I can.
The Questions I'm Not Answering Anymore
"Why aren't you coming?" → "We're having a quiet night at home."
"But it's tradition!" → "We're starting our own."
"Won't your kid miss out on seeing everyone?" → "They'll see everyone tomorrow."
"Are you okay? You seem antisocial lately." → "I'm great. Just tired."
What I Used to Do
I used to go.
I used to push through the exhaustion because:
People expected it
I didn't want to disappoint anyone
I thought saying no made me a bad friend/family member/person
I believed I "should" want to be there
And then I'd spend Christmas morning exhausted, overstimulated, and resentful.
My kid would be overtired from the night before. I'd be short-tempered. The magic of Christmas morning would be buried under sensory hangovers and decision fatigue.
At some point, I realized: Showing up for obligation isn't actually kindness to anyone.
The Permission Slip You Might Need
You don't have to go to every holiday event you're invited to.
You don't have to explain why.
You don't have to feel guilty.
You don't have to make it make sense to anyone else.
"We're staying home" is a complete sentence.
What Makes This the "Filter" Move
This is what curation looks like when it's applied to your own life.
I filtered out:
The obligation
The expectation
The "should"
The guilt
What's left:
Time with my kid while I still have it
Energy for Christmas morning
A quiet night that actually feels restorative
The absence of sensory overload
I'm not missing out. I'm choosing differently.
For the MetroWest Parents Who Feel This
You're not alone in this.
If you're also skipping the Christmas Eve party:
The neighborhood cookie exchange
The office holiday gathering you're "supposed" to attend
The family tradition that drains you every single year
It's okay.
You're not being antisocial. You're being intentional.
And your kid will remember the quiet Christmas Eve on the couch far longer than they'll remember the party you dragged them to while you were too tired to enjoy it.
Merry Christmas from my couch to yours.
Hot chocolate optional. Guilt-free mandatory.