The holiday season only comes around once a year and, sometimes, we find ourselves upset when they end. The advantage of growing up with divorced parents is that we get to do holidays, not once but twice. When a child goes through the divorcing process, negative thoughts rush through their head about what they are going to lose, but not many realize what they will gain. The two major holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas (or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or nothing, I’m not here to judge), can be big concerns, because people worry how they are going to work. Some families decide to split the holidays up by even or odd years, however, my parents made the best decision: to spend the holidays every year with both families. BONUS: double the turkey and double the presents, I almost started to feel bad for those kids missing out on the sweet deal my parents’ divorce granted upon me.
For me, Thanksgiving is a large family gathering that brings everyone together, no matter the distance. Growing up, I had heard how Thanksgiving was a meal that was at dinner time and I could not help but feel sorry for those that had to wait. By lunchtime, my mother’s side and I were already circulating the kitchen, adding to our plates buffet style. Because the meal preparations would start in the morning, I thought about how agonizing it must be for people to sit in the living room, smelling the delicious aromas flowing from the kitchen and knowing they still had to wait hours until they eat. Eating early gave me enough time to enjoy my meal, spend time with the family, and take my first post-Thanksgiving feast nap on the couch. Soon, it would be time to wipe the drool from my mouth and head out to my second celebration. At dad’s each year was the traditional Thanksgiving kickball game. My sister and I were captains and would pick teams and, usually, the biggest concern was who got Uncle Tommy (man, that guy can play a mean game of backyard kickball). By having two Thanksgivings, I learned to enjoy the little amount of time I had with each side and appreciate their differences.
Then came the “most wonderful time of the year”: Christmas. Choosing where to sleep the night before was always a challenge, but, luckily, my parents were professionals at the rock-paper-scissors game that decided our Christmas Eve fate. The perk of two Christmases was seeing the celebratory differences, in addition to more presents of course. In my experience, the major contrast was tree decorating. My dad would play Christmas movies while we chose our childhood, hand-made crafts as decorations. My mother, on the other hand, wanted a more uniform look for her tree and had us evenly distribute the fancy, store-bought ornaments while sipping on apple cider out of champagne glasses. For me, because I had Christmas twice, I never had the post-present opening emptiness, because soon I would go to the other parent’s house where Santa had made a stop for me, as well. However, both sides used the same, “Santa brought…,” or, “it’s okay, I have the receipts,” expressions (I don’t know how I believed my parents when they said Santa leaves receipts too), and, my personal favorite, “boxes do not count,” meaning that if something came in a Macy’s box, for example, it is most likely not from Macy’s and we just reused the box, so be careful opening it because we’ll need it for next year.
All in all, growing up with divorced parents during the holiday season could be a stressful time if looked at in the wrong way. Instead of two servings of turkey, you could have four or if you wish you had more presents to open on Christmas, you do at another house. Through divorce, everything is not taken away, you are given them double. Once I found the silver lining and turned the traumatic situation into something positive, I was done feeling envious of the households with happily married parents and felt proud of my family.