A Slow December: How an Unexpected Motel Stay Reminded Me to Breathe

To slow down December with kids, start small: schedule downtime, skip the events that don’t feel right, notice when your kids need rest more than another outing, and let imperfect be enough. A slow December is a handful of small permissions.

Right before Thanksgiving, we packed up and drove to my mom’s house in Northern California for the long weekend. We spent the week doing things we rarely get to at home: long snuggles, lots of late breakfasts, a family kickball game in the meadow (parents won, but not without a fair bit of cheating. The victory still feels pretty good).

On our drive there, my big kid got sick. We stayed in a roadside motel. I feel so grateful now that it was dark when we checked in. I’m not a snob (at least mostly), but seeing that room in the morning light put a hustle in me that very few things do. I didn’t want to stop overnight in the middle of California. I wanted to just get there. I wanted to keep driving, to push through, in hopes my kids would sleep most of the way.

Creating Space for Rest

My big kid needed to get out of the car and lie down, and that forced us all to stop. We got to the motel well before our usual bedtime. I let my kids watch a little TV while I got a few things out of the car. They promptly turned it off, and my little one walked out onto the balcony to yell down to me in the parking lot that “this TV is the worst!” That’s how bad it was. We listened to a book and all fell asleep.

I woke up feeling refreshed despite the motel’s best effort to make sleep impossible: thin walls that shook every time a truck roared by, a tiny double bed when I thought I’d booked two, and blankets so thin I was grateful we had a few in the car.

We got on the road, played our usual road trip games, played tag outside Walmart’s charging station, and enjoyed the day (well, as much as you can on a five-hour drive with two kids).

We arrived at my mom’s just in time. For what? Nothing at all, but just in time.

This unexpected stop reminded me how nourishing it is to create space for slow, even when it’s forced on us. It gave me the chance to reset my expectations, tune in to my kiddos, and let the bumps in the road become part of the story. It forced me to be present.

And in the busyness of the holiday season, I often need this reminder.

Why Does December Feel So Hard to Slow Down?

December feels hard to slow down because we try to make Christmas magical, and the season quietly turns into a to-do list of traditions we feel we have to complete.

In an effort to create a magical Christmas, we often go a little too far, and the season becomes less about joy and connection and more about crossing things off: Christmas tree ✅, stocking stuffers ✅, cookies ✅, Santa visit ✅.

Every year, I tell myself I’ll slow down. I’ll take a moment between the holidays to be. I’ll plan our month around things that fill me up instead of taking on tasks because we’ve always done them or because I feel like I must.

I tell myself I won’t let December happen to me, that I’ll be intentional about it.

So this year, I’m intentionally creating a slow December.

How Do You Slow Down December With Kids?

Build in downtime on purpose, skip events that don’t feel right, and watch for when your kids need rest. Here’s the plan I’m using.

I’ll create rhythms and rituals that support the life I’m building. To enjoy the life I’m creating, I need breathing room to live it. That means downtime and space for spontaneity. Much of the year, the time is there. In December, I need to build it in. I need to schedule downtime, and I need to allow myself to skip events that don’t feel right in the moment.

I’ll pause and notice my kids. Sometimes we get sucked into the whirlwind of the holidays and don’t notice whether our kids are enjoying the events we’re “doing for them.” They’re overwhelmed (just like us). They need an early bedtime or time to be, without an agenda.

Just because I planned outdoor ice skating doesn’t mean I have to force it if we’re not feeling it. We can go tomorrow and make today about silly movies and snuggles. I find this next to impossible, so writing it out is necessary.

I’ll rest when I need it. I’ll notice my own overwhelm. I’ll take a step back and take a few slow breaths. I’ll take a nap… (More on self-care during the holidays.)

I’ll allow imperfect to be enough. Every year, I make a list, try to stick with it, feel organized… and then a storm in the Midwest delays the books I picked out for my little ones, or I realize I forgot a gift for my sister-in-law.

I used to panic. I’ve gotten better at realizing there’s nothing I can do about it, and that a Christmas Eve trip to the mall, stressed and sweaty, will only take away from the spirit of the season.

I’ve gotten better (and will keep getting better) at letting things go. I’ll plan what we need and want, be as organized as I can (with a little help from Claude), and then I’ll be done.

If I’ve forgotten something… Oh well. If I can’t finish something… next year. If I mess it up… I’ll bring extra wine to make up for it.

I’ll say no. We don’t need to do everything we’re invited to. We don’t need to see every tree lighting, every Christmas Tree Lane, every holiday parade. I’ll do the ones that feel important, the traditional ones that fill me up and add joy, and say no to the rest. (Here’s more on enjoying the holidays as a minimalist.)

Here’s What Will Happen

So, that’s my plan. Will I stick to it perfectly? I think we all know the answer. We’ll end up at one too many events because I want to squeeze in one more tradition. I’ll stress about something inconsequential. My anxiety will peak before I get a chance to rein it in. And I’ll acknowledge it’s okay… I’m allowing imperfection, right?

But I’m going to try. I’m going to notice when we’re all feeling stretched too thin. I’m going to talk with my kids about doing too much so we don’t all get swept up in it. I’ll plan a little reverence and rhythm around the season and let a few things fall through the cracks.

And when (because they will) plans fall apart or I forget something important, I’m going to remember that motel and how the thing I didn’t want became exactly what we needed.

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