Tradition is just a habit that got really good PR.

Every December we’re told there is a proper way to holiday. A right way to decorate, bake, gather, gift… basically a multi-page script written by Hallmark, Martha Stewart, some long dead yet still bossy relative, and now, yay, online influencers who make eggnog from their miniature yak’s milk.

But here’s the secret: every single tradition started as someone’s silly little idea that they just… kept doing. So instead of squeezing yourself into rituals that feel like sequins in your underwear, why not design ones that actually fit?

I learned this valuable lesson at a young age when my father was stationed in Germany. Back in the day, Christmas in the US was pretty compact. About two weeks before the 25th the decorations came out, things got festive on Christmas eve, and Christmas was kaput by the 26th. Germany was different. My sister and I discovered that there were a few extra days of celebrating.  Of particular interest was December 5th, when German children place their shoes outside of their doors and in the morning they’d discover them filled with treats from Saint Nicholas. Booty three weeks before the big day? We were so in. I thought we presented a case for creating a bilateral relationship, but picture two little girls arguing for cultural appropriation and you get the idea. The parents didn’t stand a chance. 

Thus, my family’s ritual of candy in footwear was born. (Sadly, once stateside we had to drop the part where we ran around screaming “Einen Schonen Nikolaustag!”  People thought we were choking.) The footwear now remains in the closet on December 5th, but that’s when the glass boot full of candy comes out. A little adaptation to keep things going is a good thing. 

The biggest problem with rituals is the word itself. It sounds so solemn, so serious, so not fun. I respect someone celebrating the solstice by lighting a candle outside at sunset, but I’d rather be inside placing rubber dinosaurs around my Christmas village because someone, years ago and no doubt bombed on yak eggnog, thought it was a good idea.  

Rituals are tiny bookmarks for your brain. They’re not supposed to be tasks, they are little placeholders that tell your brain: “hey, this was fun, let’s do it again.” We think memories come from the big events- a perfect dinner, a flawless gift exchange- but usually they come from quirks. No one remembers that perfect dinner after a while, but who can forget their first game of midnight competitive furniture rearranging? Good times. But, lots of bruises. Lots and lots of bruises.

So, I would encourage you to look past the stress of the holidays and take heart in the rituals you’ve formed over the years. And be on the lookout for new ones; rain shredded cheese on your dog's Festivus Day, watch Die Hard and drink every time Hans Gruber curls his lip, and post your annual “snitches get stitches” picture of that Elf on the Shelf stoolpidgeon.  

Embrace them, give them some breathing room. Those little consistencies are what transform time into memory.