Is a No-Gift Christmas with Kids Really Possible?

Have you ever come to dread something you once loved? Last Christmas, I realized that even though I looked forward to the cookies, the lights, the general goodwill in the air, and of course the special religious meaning for my family, I also felt an overwhelming desire to hide under the covers and not come out until January. 

The problem was my family's gift-giving, which had gotten out of hand. We were spending way too much time, effort, and money on stuff that didn't add value to our kids' lives, and on top of it all the house was always a disaster because it was too much for any of us to organize and manage. 

So we simply quit giving the kids gifts at Christmas. No more toys. No more stuff. 

How did our first no-gift Christmas go? Would we do it again? And would it ever in a million years work in your family? 

Here's everything you ever wanted to know about going gift-free this Christmas, but were afraid to ask.

Q: What did your Christmases look like before?

We used to get each kid four presents, plus one from Santa. That doesn't sound excessive, but with 6 kids it quickly added up, and when you added in extra toys and gadgets from extended family members it was way too much. 

I know it's a privilege being able to complain about having too much stuff, but it certainly doesn't feel like a privilege when you're drowning in it.

Q: What does a no-gift Christmas look like?

A: Each child gets one experience gift from us, and that's it. The only tangible items they receive are a stocking filled by Santa, one physical gift from Santa, and whatever their grandparents choose to get them.

Q: Were the kids actually on board with this?

A: We started by having a family meeting. We explained to the kids we wanted to avoid waste and focus on doing stuff together instead of giving stuff. At first they were skeptical (especially the younger ones,) but once they started making lists of fun places they've always wanted to go they got excited about it.

Q: Wait a minute. Wasn't Christmas Day super-lame without gifts to open?

Well, they still have a few gifts to unwrap from Santa and their grandparents. But aside from that, we tried to make the experience of opening the experience gifts fun by printing out a certificate for each experience and packaging it creatively. 

We rolled up the 5-year-old's certificate and stuck it in a balloon for him to pop, and the 13-year-old's went in this folded paper pyramid. In future years maybe we'll wrap certificates in a bunch of boxes inside each other, have them follow a strand of yarn all over the house to find it, make a scavenger hunt, or write it in a scrambled language to decode.

Q: What kind of experience gifts did you give?

We're big believers in family time over individual date nights with each child, so it felt natural for us to include everyone who was able to participate in each experience. Here's what we did last year:

5yo: Trampoline park for the whole family

7yo: Laser tag for the whole family

10yo: Escape room for one parent and the 3 kids who were old enough

13yo: Adult go-kart racetrack for one parent and all kids who met the height requirement

15yo: Virtual reality room for the teenagers and a parent

17yo: Semester of piano lessons at a local music school (not exactly a family experience, but it was something she really, really wanted)

We found a lot of ideas by searching our city on Groupon and Trip Advisor. You could try indoor skydiving, pop-up museums, an overnight hotel stay with a pool and pizza for dinner, or one of those pay-by-the-pound ice cream places where you do all the toppings. The experiences could even be free: a cool sledding hill they've never been to before, or an "anything goes" night where they stay up late and create the itinerary.

Q: How did your first giftless Christmas go?

Every time we drove home from one of those experiences with the kids talking about it excitedly with each other in the backseat, I felt like we'd done the right thing. This year there was no wasted time and effort tracking down presents no one used, no landfill of wrapping paper and packaging waste in the living room, no meltdowns the week afterward trying to organize the avalanche of toys. I even heard my 10-year-old exclaim several times at the escape room "This is the best Christmas present EVER!!!"

Q: Were there any downsides to not exchanging gifts at Christmas?

A: It was challenging to juggle so many people's schedules to find a time to actually do all the experience gifts. We tried to complete as many as possible in the week between Christmas and New Years, but we didn't finish all of them until March. Also, our no-gift Christmas was not cheap. Most people assume we saved a ton of money, but obviously eight admissions to the trampoline park costs more than a few plastic toys. In all, it probably ended up costing about the same as before.

Q: Any tips for me if I want to try a no-gift Christmas with my family?

A: In the past, we'd tried encouraging extended family members to get us experience gifts, which was met with mixed reactions and didn't work well for a variety of reasons. We found it was much easier to fix our own gift-giving and let everyone else do what they felt comfortable with.

Start out by clearly deciding what you're trying to accomplish with a no-gift Christmas: to be more environmentally conscious? more responsible with your money? less overwhelmed by the number of toys in the house? Involve the kids, come up with a plan, and commit to trying it for just one year. Explain you can always go back if they don't like it.

Q: What if I want to downsize Christmas but I'm not ready to give up gifts altogether?

Dip your toes in by giving experience gifts with a small related trinket, like a zoo pass with a dollar store bag of plastic animals or tickets for a monster truck rally with a Hot Wheels vehicle. It will get you and your kids used to the idea without going completely cold-turkey.

You can also explore other ways to ease your holiday burnout. If there's Christmas decor you don't really like putting up, get rid of it. Ask your family their favorite Christmas traditions and eliminate the ones on the bottom of the list. Deep down you probably know what should be cut out to make things simpler, you just need to give yourself permission to do it.

We're heading into our second no-gift Christmas, and I couldn't be more excited. It's freeing not to orchestrate who's getting what with a literal spreadsheet starting in September, and I know that the day after Christmas I'll wake up to a calendar of fun things to do with my kids instead of a house full of clutter and chaos. At least, not any more full of it than usual.

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In Search of a Less Wasteful Christmas

It's December 1^st, and if this were any other year I would've had at least one holiday prep-related mental breakdown by now. But it hasn't happened yet, and here's the beautiful reason why: my husband and I aren't getting the kids gifts this year.

Before you start penning your letters to CPS, please hear me out. It's all part of a bigger plan. In fact, it was the kids' idea.

For years now, I've had the sneaking suspicion that our Christmas season was out of control. I tried to simplify and streamline everything I could, using task management apps, jettisoning traditions that were more work than enjoyment, even paring down our holiday decor so it didn't feel like such a big job.

But I couldn't quite bring myself to re-examine our gift-giving. It was Christmas, after all: the one day a year (other than their birthdays) when the kids get presents. And Evans family tradition had it that every kid received four gifts from Mom and Dad on Christmas morning, plus another from Santa.

Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot, but with 6 kids that equals 30+ presents to shop for... not including stocking stuffers. 

I don't want to know how many hours I've spent poring over holiday gift lists and wracking my brain for any conceivable way to commodify my kids' interests: the 7-year-old likes basketball, what product goes with that? A new ball? A jersey? A basketball nightlight for his room? A life-sized cutout of LeBron James? 

Which, to be honest, always left me feeling vaguely uncomfortable. If my son was happily playing basketball with what we had already, wouldn't he rather have me just go outside and play with him instead of hiding inside furtively reading "52 Awesome Gifts for Kids Who Can't Get Enough of the Game"?

Not only that, I was also feeling burnt out. I was tired of the planning, the brainstorming sessions, and the shopping. I was tired of the ordering and the tracking. I had come to resent the color-coded spreadsheet of which items we'd chosen but not ordered, and which ones we'd ordered but hadn't yet arrived. 

And I don't even want to talk about the gift wrapping.

Christmas 2016. I know.

But hey, I figured, that's just the way Christmas is, and resolved that the only thing I could do was change my attitude and try to enjoy the ride.

The gift-giving question was forgotten for a few more years, until this past spring. Inspired by The Minimal Mom on YouTube, I did a massive declutter of the house.

From the attic to the basement, I was ruthless in my purging. I didn't throw out any of the kids' stuff without their knowledge, but what I did do was give them permission to get rid of absolutely anything — anything — they didn't use or love. Even (and maybe especially) if they felt like they "should" keep it for some other reason.

Perhaps not surprisingly, a lot of the stuff we'd given them for Christmas just a few months earlier sailed right out the door that spring, and it was a real eye-opener to me and my husband. All those hours we'd spent hunting down the perfect gifts... maybe it wasn't as worth it as we used to think. 

I don't care for excess and Phillip doesn't like waste, and looking at the pile of items the kids happily discarded once they had permission was hard evidence that we'd inadvertently been creating a lot of both.

So what to do with this wake-up call?

We considered having the kids start drawing up wish lists, but only briefly. I didn't like the idea of reducing gift-giving to an "I put in my order and you fill it" transaction. (Where's the magic in that?) And to be honest, I wasn't sure that shoving a toy catalog in front of my 5-year-old would be any less wasteful than what we'd already been doing. 

We posed the question to the kids at a family meeting, and they came up with a creative solution: experience gifts instead of tangible ones. In the next few weeks, they'll be giving us two or three ideas of something they'd like to do, see, or visit in the week between Christmas and New Years, and Phillip and I will either choose something from the list or surprise them.

But here's the kicker: that will be their only gift from us. Phillip and I are out of the presents-that-go-in-a-box game.

The 5- and 7-year-olds were a little concerned, but were fine once we assured them they'd still get stuff from their grandparents, and Santa will still fill their stockings and bring them one physical present. Our Christmas isn't going to be ascetic, just reasonable.

Ultimately, I realized that no matter how much time and effort we put into selecting the perfect things to put under the tree, we can never guarantee they won't end up in a pile of clutter no one uses. 

Giving experiences, however, is a different story. Even if your experience gift ends up being a dud (you got a flat tire on the way there, the tour guide was crabby, and the whole thing was not at all what you expected,) you still spent time together creating memories. It's always a net positive.

This Christmas will be much different, but in a good way. I know I won't miss waking up exhausted from present-wrapping to hunt down batteries and run tech support for new gadgets, and I don't think the kids will mind having fewer presents under the tree. Instead, we'll have a calendar full of fun things to do together, and none of us can hardly wait.

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The Trip So Perfect, You Can't Believe It Happened

When Phillip first told me he had to attend a conference for work last month, I groaned inwardly as I always do at the idea of him going out of town, especially during busy times like, oh, say, December.

But this time there was a twist: the conference was in Florida, and did I want to come, too?

For years I've dreamed about tunneling out of the Massachusetts snow in the depths of winter for a tropical vacation, but we haven't been able to make it happen. Is Florida tropical? No. But it's close enough.

After we figured out how to keep the kids alive for 4 days and bought my ticket, I could hardly sleep. Four days of not getting stuck in an icy driveway! No static electricity! No dry skin! Nobody running away from me screaming "Don't touch me, your hands are freezing!"

I was so excited I didn't even ask any questions.

I didn't know Phillip's itinerary for the conference or whether I'd even really see him. When a friend said "I used to live in Florida! What city are you staying in?" I had no idea. Wherever it is, it was 75° and that was all I needed to know.

And that is how I went from sledding with the kids to eating cupcakes on a hotel balcony overlooking a courtyard full of palm trees, legitimately getting overheated in a light cardigan. It was heavenly.

This picture makes it look as if I'm in jail, but it was actually lovely.
Also, even if I was in jail, I would still be in Florida.

It was relaxing and restorative beyond imagination, but first I want to tell you that I have never been so seasonally confused in my life.

Having always lived in places that are cold and snowy in the winter, I never even thought about the fact that sunny Florida was also celebrating Christmas.

I mean, I logically knew they used the same calendar, but I was so deep in vacation mode that it wasn't until I got off the plane in Tampa and practically ran into a holiday garland-wrapped pillar that I remembered, "Oh yeahhhh... it's Christmas for them, too."

From there, things got weirder.

The display case at the bakery was full of pumpkin spice donuts and eggnog-flavored cupcakes, which I associate with sweater weather but I guess Floridians, like, eat them by the beach while applying SPF 50.

Christmas carols were playing in the trolley that took us from the resort to the beach walk downtown. We listened to "Little Drummer Boy" with the windows down, something I could never do at home without risking frostbite.

To me, palm trees are the ultimate symbol of the relaxed pace of a summer beach vacation, so seeing them inexplicably wrapped in Christmas lights (which symbolize the hustle and bustle and thermal base layers of winter) was beyond disorienting.

I know it's completely normal to people who live here, but not to me.

Where I live, it's not Christmas until you go outside and the surface layer of your eyeballs freeze.

Everything, from my complete lack of personal responsibilities to the tourists wandering around in their khaki shorts, confirmed that I was indeed on vacation... but then we'd pass a car with a Christmas tree tied to the roof and suddenly I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Just stick the Christmas tree between the palms and pretend like we didn't have to ship it 1,000 miles here from Cleveland.

I also associate the warm weather with long summer days, so imagine my surprise when it continued to be winter and the sun set at 5:30 every day.

I mean, I did get to watch the sun set from the hot tub at the resort so it's not like I'm complaining.

For the rest of my life,  I think I'll remember how it felt to walk down to the ocean with my sandals in my hand, feeling the sun on my back for the first time in months. 

I just closed my eyes and took the deepest breath ever, like I was trying to literally inhale the moment. I WAS LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF THIS. 

This break from real life would've been welcome at any point during the year, but to abruptly go from the misery of single-digit temperatures to walking barefoot on the beach was like an out-of-body experience in all the right ways.

Phillip and I did have some logistics to discuss (because purportedly, Christmas was still coming) but I insisted that we do it all from the balcony or beside the fire pit on the patio. I didn't want to waste a single second sitting indoors.

It pained me whenever I had to go inside. I would've slept out there if they'd let me.

The view from our balcony, which I probably should've slept on now that I think about it.

This trip was a weird combination of a solo vacation and a couple's trip.

While Phillip was in talks and workshops during the day, I laid at the poolside or walked on the beach or went downtown and ate lunch with a book. After he was finished in the late afternoon, he'd join me and we'd figure out what we wanted to do for the rest of the night.

We took an evening walk along the beach and came across some people singing Christmas carols by the ocean, and strolled a pier where we could browse vendors' booths of overpriced jewelry made from shells.

We had tasty food and milkshakes (flashback to our trip to New York City where we got milkshakes from the same place twice in one day because they were so good, I guess that's how we party hard on vacation.)

We tried not to rely solely on selfies to remember this vacation, but when we asked a random person to take our picture on the beach it just turned out like this:

Not pictured in this crooked shot: the beach or Phillip's head.

So we decided that selfies would have to do.

Four days and three nights came and went, and it was time for me to go home. Though I would've loved to stay longer forever, I did notice that by end I was getting used to the ocean and the sunshine. The Christmas decorations on the palm trees didn't seem noteworthy anymore.

In retrospect, four days was the perfect length of time for me to be there and still appreciate every single second of the trip.

When I woke up the first morning after coming back home to New England, I looked out the window to see it had snowed overnight.

Even though it was colder, every branch was coated in white and I took the same deep breath I had taken that first day in Florida and thought Well, this is ridiculously beautiful, too.

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Some Great Ideas for Your Homemade Mother's Day Coupon Book

If there's any Mother's Day gift more classic than the homemade book of coupons, I don't know what it is.

Over the years I've been the grateful recipient of many DIY Mother's Day coupon books from my kids, and as much as I love the sweetness of being gifted "unlimited hugs," I can't help but wish they'd also included coupons like these:

I know. The thing is lost. It disappeared. It's not anywhere. Just humor me and use your eyeballs for a minute, keeping in mind that it may be necessary to move things around a little while you look. You can do this.

Wearing snow boots in summer, shorts in the winter, and Halloween costumes in January are a preschooler's M.O., but sometimes it'd be nice to take you on an outing where 12 strangers don't elbow me in the ribs and chuckle, "Looks like someone dressed himself this morning!"

If I had a time machine, I would give Young Me a heads-up about how unfazed I'd be one day at the sight of a used, unflushed toilet.

Mommy is squishy because you leave too many leftovers on your plate for her to clean up, please stop telling the neighbors we're having a baby.

No meowing, climbing on the furniture, crawling around the floor, lifting up your shirt, headbutting our guests, licking yourself, or jumping off the coffee table. We want these people to like us.

The people around you already know, they're just being polite. As for the people who don't know, don't spoil it for them.

This house is not a restaurant, and I'm not soliciting your feedback on the menu. And yes, exaggerated dry heaves at the dinner table count as feedback.

Please give me the gift of not having to search for a public restroom 5 minutes into our first errand of the day.

My least favorite time to answer questions about what I'm doing is before sunrise, while I'm still in bed.

It'd be such a thrill to do a load of laundry that didn't involve detangling what appears to be a bunch of miniature superhero costumes.

Someday when I'm old and gray, I can't wait to watch all the videos I have of you standing there motionless while I urge you to do whatever you were doing just a second ago. So many memories.

If you're in charge of helping a small child put together a homemade coupon book for Mother's Day this year, don't forget to include these! (I was going to include a coupon good for a solo trip to the bathroom, but let's not get crazy here. Some things are just too unrealistic.)

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Things I Don't Want to Hear, See, or Smell on Mother's Day This Year

Motherhood means indescribable love.

It means transcendent joy.

And it means complete and utter sensory overload.

When you're a mom, every morning is like being dumped out of bed into the middle of the running of the bulls in Spain, except there's a lot more crying and you're supposed to make pancakes at the same time.

Do you know what the touched-out, overwhelmed masses of mamas want for Mother's Day?

We don't want to hear anything. We don't want to hear crying. Or FAKE crying.

No long, rambling tattles about something a sibling did 4 and a half years ago.

We don't want to hear the word "snack."

We don't want to hear the sound of a gallon of milk exploding on contact with the floor, a bin of Legos being dumped out after we just cleaned house, or anything crashing or breaking in the next room.

We don't want to smell anything. We don't want to smell poop, sweaty feet, poop, stinky burps in our faces, poop, or things burning. Or poop.

No thank you to the rancid sports equipment and cleats so pungent they could take down a full-grown bull moose. We don't want to smell lunch boxes on Monday morning with Friday's leftovers still inside.

Forgive us, but we don't like smelling the breath of someone who swore they brushed their teeth but obviously hasn't touched a tube of toothpaste since April.

We don't want to touch anything.  We don't want to handle soiled clothing or carry it around in our purses like some kind of demented currency.

We don't want to feel smashed raisins from the kitchen floor sticking to our feet. We don't need to find out with our thighs that the toilet seat is wet, and then step in a puddle of maple syrup a few minutes later.

Basically, we don't want to feel anything sticky or wet that isn't supposed to be, including ourselves. Especially ourselves.

We don't want to see anything. We don't want to see the sock factory explosion formerly known as our house.

There are socks on the stairs. Socks in the bathroom. Tiny socks in the toybox and on top of the piano and inside the potted plant. We just can't take the sight of any more socks.

We don't want to see our decorative throw pillows on the floor, every outdoor toy we own scattered on the lawn like sprinkles on a cake, or Nerf gun darts in every conceivable crevice of our property.

And please shield our eyes from the crumb buffet on the floor of the minivan.

We don't want to taste anything. We are tired of tasting leftover chicken nuggets and chubby fingers of questionable cleanliness that were shoved in our mouths.

We don't want eat soggy Goldfish crackers just because our toddlers offered them to us and said "So dee-wicious," and yet we do. (Why must they be so cute?)

The point is that motherhood wears out our senses and then it wears them out again. Flowers or breakfast in bed are nice gestures, but what we really want for Mother's Day is 90 minutes in a sensory deprivation tank.

After that, we promise to come back to the sticky kisses and is-it-chocolate-or-is-it-poop predicaments that no doubt await us — and we will love (almost) every minute of it. We swear.

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An Evans Weekend Recap in 8, 7, 6, 5...

This weekend the Evans house was hit with the triple whammy of Easter, a big church broadcast, and April Fool's Day. Although let's be honest, every day feels like April Fool's Day around here (Ha ha, you just mopped and now there's pee on the floor! Gotcha!) so I guess that part wasn't too different.

In any case, here's a by the numbers recap of the weekend, if you find yourself wondering what it would've been like to hang out with the Evanses.

Eight...

...of us watching 8 hours of General Conference together. Phillip and I plus our 6 kids have been looking forward to it for the last 6 months, albeit for different reasons (see the next point, #7.)

General Conference is a twice-a-year broadcast where the leadership of my church give sermons on various spiritual topics. It takes up the whole weekend, stretching over four sessions of 2 hours each. But we Mormons are hearty stock. We have church for 3 hours every Sunday, so we're kind of used to it.

Us watching Conference on the computer in the corner. The kids on the floor aren't dead from boredom; they're trying to get a marker that rolled under the stove.

I love Conference because I always come away with a clearer perspective on my life, more hope for the future, and a motivation to follow the Savior better. The kids, on the other hand, love the snacks.

Seven...

...times per minute I was asked about snacks. We've tried various Conference traditions over the years, but my kids' favorite by far is Conference Snacks.

We tape pictures of our church leaders on different munchies, and when each one speaks we get to eat that snack. And it's funny, the regular readers of my blog, even the ones who aren't Mormon, also love this tradition and ask me every time if we're going to do it again.

There's some serious debate going on over whose picture goes on which snack. I usually try to keep my distance to avoid catching a stray punch.

I joke about the kids only being in it for the food, but in reality they're pretty good at paying attention. I encourage them to listen and take at least a one-sentence note on each sermon, and they all tried their best, even the 6-year-old:

The black writing is mine, obviously. Sometimes 6-year-olds get tired before a sentence is over.

Six...

...kids looking for Easter eggs in the snow. We also participated in an Easter egg hunt through our local playgroup.

The younger three hunted for eggs, the older three helped them, and I sat in a beach chair sipping a hot chocolate and planning my vacation to Tahiti because I'm obviously not even necessary around here anymore.

Since two of the kids have food allergies, the egg hunt was immediately followed by The Great Candy Swap, where you take what I'm allergic to and I take what you're allergic to, and everyone is happy. Good thing we have so many kids.

I'll see your two peanut butters and raise you three glutens and an Almond Joy.

Five...

...Pysanky eggs created. Several years ago when we were learning about different countries over the summer, we learned about a Ukranian egg-dying technique called Pysanky. Somehow it became an Easter tradition for us, even though we have 0% Ukranian ancestry that I know of.

Making Pysanky eggs is a pretty complicated process involving drawing your designs with hot wax and then dying and re-dying the egg in different colors after each new layer of wax.

It takes a long time, but if we get through Easter without anyone lighting their hair on fire I consider it a success.

We each have our own styles that would probably make traditional Pysanky masters roll in their graves, but I'm really pleased at what we created this year!

These were two of my favorites:

Via the 11-year-old.

Via the 13-year-old.

Four...

...cups of dye NOT spilled. If you'll notice in the picture above, there are five mugs full of Pysanky dye, meaning that one of our dining room chairs is covered in bright blue splatters now.

Pysanky uses a special kind of extra-potent dye, and unlike the boxes of pastel powder I can buy at CVS for $1.49, this stuff is permanent forever and ever, amen. (If you eat an egg dyed with Pysanky dye, I think you grow a tail.)

So if you ever come over to our house for dinner, please don't be alarmed by the chair that looks like it was a witness to genocide on a blueberry farm: we're just making memories.

Three...

...General Conference talks answering my question. Mormons believe that if we prayerfully think about questions we have — a doctrinal subject we don't understand, a need for guidance in a certain area of our lives, or whatever — those questions will be answered during Conference. And as always, Conference did not disappoint.

Lately I've been feeling overwhelmed by life and all its assorted responsibilities, to the point where it's affecting my happiness. I keep thinking about the idea from this article that if you're feeling perpetually burnt-out you don't need more breaks from your life, you need to re-structure it so you don't feel the need to constantly escape. Okay, sounds super-good in theory, but how do I do that?!?

So that was my question, and there was not one, not two, but three Conference talks on Sunday morning telling me to seek answers from God. I can't explain how each one felt like an incredibly personal answer specifically directed at me, but they did.

If you have an extra 11 minutes in your day, this was my favorite. (It also has a story about Navy ships and a typhoon, which is exactly the kind of thing my boys are highly invested in emotionally.)


On one hand, it was a little frustrating to ask what I need to change about my life and instead of a bulleted list I was told 'Girl, you need to go ask God about this.' But on the other hand, at least I understand now I need to be specifically asking God how to rearrange my days instead of just begging Him to help me get through them.

Two...

...big pans of Easter rolls brought to a friend's. I ended up doubling the recipe and bringing a billion of these rolls to Sunday dinner. Being a family of 8, we don't get dinner party invitations much, but we went and had a good time and our oldest sat at the table discussing politics and current events with the adults which was equal parts neat and bizarre.

Also, my 4-year-old may not have gleaned much from General Conference since he was doing couch parkour throughout most of it, but making the rolls definitely left an impression on him.

He was telling Jesus' resurrection story to everyone who would listen whenever we had a roll for the next several days.

One...

...huge mess made while everything else was going on. While we were otherwise occupied with General Conference, the 1-year-old seized the chance to make sure every other room of the house looked like this:

The work of a tiny opportunist.

Now that the weekend's over, we definitely have some cleaning up to do.

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The Busy Mom's Guide to Simplifying December

Do you have a lot of traditions at the holidays? Our list is about a mile long, and the idea of skipping any of them in the name of simplifying is enough to give me a panic attack.

What's a busy mom to do, then?

Take shortcuts. Try these brilliant holiday hacks that shorten your time-consuming Christmas traditions into compact activities that give you the same end result as the real thing.

Baking Cookies:

Empty a 5-pound bag of flour into your Shop-Vac, reverse the suction, and blow it into the kitchen. Give the kids a storebought tube of refrigerated cookie dough to fight over.

Family Pictures:

Instead of telling your kids to "Say Cheese!" try saying "Alright everyone! Fingers in mouth or stare at something to your left!" For the first year ever you'll get family photos that look exactly the way you expected them to.

Christmas Cards:

Scratch out "Happy Holidays" at the top. Use Sharpies and correct them to say "Happy Groundhog's Day." Now you have plenty of time to address and mail them.

Shopping:

Circle the nearest parking lot 15 times looking for a spot, then turn around and go home. They wouldn't have had what you're looking for in stock anyway, so you've just accomplished in 20 minutes what would have ordinarily taken hours.

Pictures with Mall Santa:

Next time you're in a waiting room of some type, dump your baby on the lap of the random stranger next to you and take a picture of her screaming.

Decorating the Christmas tree:

Invite a local wino or hospital patient who's high on post-operative painkillers to put ornaments on your tree while you go run some errands. In the end, it will look exactly like your kids did it!

Advent Calendar:

The calendar itself is unnecessary. All you need to do is:

1. Set a timer for 5 minutes; tell the kids to see who can yell loudest "IT'S MY TURN TO OPEN IT!"
2. When the timer goes off, give everyone a piece of chocolate and stress-eat the rest of the bag locked in the bathroom.
3. Repeat nightly.

Optional: if you have a preschooler, give him an entire bag on Day 3 when he would have opened all the little flaps himself out of curiosity.

Making Gingerbread Houses:

Scatter icing, crumbs, and tiny candies all over the dining room. Make sure all of it is hard and tasteless.

Driving Around to Look at Christmas Lights:

Tell the kids to whine from the backseat that they're bored, there's nothing to see, and they want to go home during a regular errand you need to run.

Wrapping Gifts:

On Christmas Eve, rip 10 rolls of festive paper into crumpled shreds and throw them all over the living room. Hide the kids' unwrapped toys beneath the carnage and they'll still be surprised on Christmas morning.


Busy moms know that creating a super-magical holiday season often takes more time than they have available.

By using these tips to simplify common Christmas traditions, you too can continue making holiday memories on top of your already demanding schedule of making sure everyone has clean underwear and dislodging Shopkins from the printer.

Merry Christmas!

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11 Big Family Board Games for 6 or More Players

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I love board games, but I've noticed that many of them are designed for families of 4 and can't accommodate more players than that — not ideal if your family is twice that size.

Do you find your large family forming teams just so all of you can play? If so, this list of big family board games for 6, 8, 10, or more players is what you need.

King of Tokyo

2-6 Players

King of Tokyo is one of the best family games we've ever owned, and the gameplay is relatively quick (usually under 30 minutes.) The basic idea is that you're a monster battling the other monsters for control of Tokyo using a little luck and a lot of strategy. I've heard it called "battle Yahtzee," but personally I think the twists make King of Tokyo much more fun. Best for ages 7 and up.

Tsuro

2-8 Players

Simple enough for a preschooler to understand and enjoy, but older kids and adults can put a lot of strategy into this game of elimination by following The Path. Gameplay is short and unlike a lot of other games, Tsuro is more fun the more players you have. Also, the gameboard and pieces are absolutely beautiful. Amaze your guests whenever you pull it out, this is unlike any other game you've seen. Best for ages 3 and up.

Snorta

3-8 Players

This game has been a permanent fixture in our game closet for years. It is fun, silly, fast-paced, requires quick thinking, and guaranteed to make everyone laugh as you all try to make the right animal sound. Special rules for younger players let them enjoy it along with everyone else in the family. I was so sad to see this game was discontinued, but you can still find it on eBay or through 3rd-party sellers on Amazon. Best for ages 4 and up.

Scum

4+ Players

Scum is new favorite family card game. You can play with as many people as can fit around your playing table, and my teenagers like it just as much as my kindergartner. While anyone who knows how to count can play, there's also an immense amount of strategy you can put into it. The object is to get rid of all your cards, but you keep playing for 2nd, 3rd, and so on until everyone finishes, and you can play as many rounds as you want to. You can also play using a deck of regular playing cards or Rook cards (which in itself is another fun game for 2-6 players.) Best for ages 5 and up.

Apples to Apples Junior

4-10 Players

Apples to Apples Junior is a creative, rowdy, imaginative card game that encourages vocabulary and thinking skills. Using only the cards in your hand, you have to play one that "matches" a randomly-chosen adjective, then argue the case for why your word is the best fit (even if it's a stretch!) Even our kids who can't yet read like being on mom or dad's team, helping us pick the words to play.  Best for ages 7 and up.

Uno

2-10 Players

Every family, especially big ones, should have this classic card game on hand. It's easy enough for preschoolers to play because it's essentially just matching colors and numbers, but still challenging and fun for teens and adults. Each round is quick, but kids can play for a good long while before getting bored. Best for ages 3 and up.

Taboo

6+ Players

Taboo is a race to get your teammates to guess words, but there are "forbidden words" you can't use to do it. It's hilarious to listen to the creative ways kids describe things when they can't use the words they want! Even our kids who are too young to be able to give the clues still like being on a team and guessing along with everyone else. Bonus: this version of Taboo comes with a "squeaker" that sounds like a rubber ducky instead of the annoying buzzer that came with older versions. Best for ages 8 and up.

5-Second Rule

3+ Players

5-Second Rule sounds easier than it is: name 3 things in a certain category in 5 minutes. You will all be laughing at this game that encourages thinking on your feet. My kids like the funny noise the timer makes, and we can choose however long we want to play. We modify the rules so our younger kids can play too (i.e: the 5-year-old only needs to name 1 thing instead of 3.) Sometimes they don't know what the topics on the cards are ("name 3 soap operas") so we just skip to the next one. Best for ages 7 and up.

Mexican Train Dominoes

Up to 8 Players

Mexican Train Dominoes is a set of double-12 color-coded dot dominoes that come in a durable aluminum case that holds up to years of rough use (it has in our house.) There are instructions for lots of different types of domino games, lasting from 20 minutes to several hours. Even when we're not actually playing a game of Mexican Train Dominoes, my toddlers like lining up the trains and my older kids like building with the dominoes. Best for ages 4 and up.

Headbanz

2-6 Players

You probably played a homemade version of this at home or school when you were a kid. You slip a card into your headband and ask other players yes or no questions to figure out what it is. It's fun but also educational since kids have to think critically about the questions they ask and remember the answers until their next turn. Since the cards have a picture along with the word, non-readers can play, too. (There's also a card of "prompt questions" in case a kid gets stuck.) Best for ages 4 and up.

Pictionary

4+ Players

Another classic family game where the sketches and the guesses are both hilarious. Play is in two teams, with the more players the merrier. You don't have to draw well to play (I know, because I'm the worst artist I've ever met.) You have to be old enough to think fast and sketch under pressure, but just like with Taboo, kids who are too young still enjoy being a guesser on the team. Best for ages 6 and up.

If you've got a bigger-than-average family then it's just a simple fact: you need to fit more people in your car, at your dining room table, and in your board games! What are your favorite games for 6 or more people to play in your family?

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