A Mom's Guide to Surviving the Stress of the Holidays

You’ve survived Friendsgiving parties and Thanksgiving dinners.  But now the whole crush of holiday activities soars forward until New Year’s — so many chances to make memories with your little ones and family.

BUT WARNING! Holiday stress can add to mom stress and build into a perfect storm for husband hysteria, child tantrums and even mom meltdowns.

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Check out tips for avoiding being overwhelmed and keeping the season fun—for you and your family!

Yes, of course this is the season of giving and expressing gratitude yet, we’re often so rushed trying to buy everyone their perfect gift or create their perfect meal that we feel exhausted by the end of it.

This year, as the holiday chaos begins, set aside some time to envision the memories you want to create this year. What sort of memories do you want your family to have this holiday season?”


When you’re trying to cook a meal or decorate the house with little ones underfoot, it can be challenging. Sometimes, you’re doing your best just not to ruin or break anything as you avoid tripping over toys in the kitchen.

Find ways to get your kids involved in the process. Ask them to help wrap presents, mix ingredients for a recipe, draw holiday cards, or come up with a silly play routine for their favorite holiday song. They’ll feel involved and proud that they could help with holiday activities.

In 2018, we’re lucky that kid-friendly holiday parties and events are popular.  They are great because they keep our kids busy and entertained for hours and usually make your kids tired and ready to nap (Yes!). But too many activities can leave your kids feeling more worn out and exhausted over time. It’s easy for babies to get overstimulated—and fussy—with all of the extra activity so you might want to be prepared to take baby to a quiet place during a party if needed. Decide what events are most important to you and make sure those happen. It’s important to make sure little ones are still getting enough sleep and eating well so they can enjoy this special time. Put family events and downtime on the calendar to ensure balance.

As moms we feel a lot of pressure to do it all, and to do it all by ourselves. For some of us, it’s uncomfortable to admit we need help, but allowing others to help us also creates a stronger network of social support. It’s reassuring to know there are other adults in our children’s lives whom we can trust.

And remember: You’re not the only mom who needs a break. Don’t forget you can always return the favor and offer to watch a friend’s children, too.

The most important thing at the holidays is to be kind to yourself and not beat yourself up for things you didn’t do, or that didn’t go exactly as planned. You’ll be late to activities, and everyone will understand. Your table might not look exactly like the Pinterest image you were aiming for, but your guests won’t even know.

January 2 will be here soon enough, and you’ll be back to a more normal routine. So, just like the baby years, remember that the during the holiday season the days are long but the months are short. Enjoy what you can and let the rest go.

Happy Holidays!

The Mom’s Code -- Girlfriends and Girls Night Out: It Gets Dark Sometimes (Part 3 of 5)

Written by:

Eileen Wacker

I often thought about that night when I was alone in Seoul. I could picture my friends’ faces and hear their voices. I missed them and the person I was when I was with them. The day my child was born, I, as a mom, was born. My definition of who I was shifted enormously with marriage, being a mom and having a family. But I hadn’t realized how much this shift would cost until I was paying the price.

I lost my soul in Seoul. My former jobs brought me to China, Indonesia, Australia, Hong Kong, Japan, Thailand and India so I thought I knew Asia. My husband and I lived in three European countries together so I felt I could handle the expat challenges. I’d never been to Korea. My first trip was to find our apartment. My second was to move there with four little kids in tow, alone because my husband was already there, working.  

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Korea is a tough place for any person to acclimate to. The whole culture is in a hurry. ‘Bali bali’ means hurry, hurry. No one waits for anything. People cut lines, and men walk in front of you, cutting you off and shut the door in your face. They spit on the sidewalk in front of you. One day Koreans like Americans and the next day, they can’t stand us. They regularly have protests against us. But none of this is personal and by the end of our time there, this stuff bounced right off me. It is just the way it is.

Tom and Lydia arrived when I returned from the summer. My husband hired Tom as a risk consultant, having worked with him in Connecticut. Lydia was like a fresh, lovely gardenia. She had raised three children so she was very wise about relationships and being a mom. All the Itaewon shopkeepers were captivated by her Southern charm and called out to her from their stores. One morning, Lydia and I were walking, sipping on coffee when someone spat on the sidewalk at our feet. Busloads of Koreans were protesting against a free trade agreement with the U.S.. One store owner shouted, “Pretty Americans, go home! Not a good day for American people.” I felt angry but Lydia, in her southern voice, said, “Darlin’, it’s young people everywhere. In some office, someone is calling the American Embassy, apologizing, but it’s better to let people get things off their chest. Don’t get all rattled. It will give you wrinkles.” Her words calmed me down. This was not personal to me. And I didn’t want wrinkles.

But from the start, I was artfully put in my place and it felt personal every time. When I called my husband at his office and asked for him by name, his staff was mortified. Some of them referred to me as the ‘foreign wife’ and all requested I use his title ‘hengjamneem’ which means CEO or president in Korean. Even my husband asked me to refer to him as Mr. Wacker or ‘hengjamneem’. I joked, “Maybe I’ll call you that in bed.” He wasn’t kidding. “We have to respect their culture.” I told him he was drinking the Koolaid which led to yet another bitter argument.

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When I took the four kids to see my husband’s office, his secretary escorted us up in a private elevator to an elegant conference room with glass windows on three sides. She was shy and formal, and did not look me in the eye or engage me in conversation. Other staff came by and peered in, smiling and curious. Many bowed to us. His secretary poured Cokes into crystal glasses and gave them to the kids. I didn’t want to be rude so I let them have the soda. My son spilled his all over himself within thirty seconds. “Sorry Mommy,” my son said ruefully. Then he asked for another soda. I said no to that one.

A slick executive in an expensive suit, Kim Dae Yun, strolled in ignoring the kids and said, “My name is ‘Korean title’ Kim. I understand you went to Harvard. I’m not impressed. Here in Korea, a good wife stays in the background looking pretty, so her husband can do his job without interference.” He didn’t wait for a response, just strolled out. He looked me directly in the eye and didn’t bow; two things I knew were insulting. I looked around, confused. My kids were quiet and looked at me for some cue. Did he really just say that? The secretary had a blank look. I wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t understand English well or she didn’t see this behavior as out of the ordinary.

We waited for almost twenty minutes. The kids were squirming and twirling in the big conference room chairs. The secretary stood at the door like a sentry. Finally, my husband walked in, flanked by an entourage. There was Man Friday, his secretary, his driver and his translator. They stood and fussed over my husband. I felt very foreign while he looked very comfortable. My husband kissed each of our kids, then looked at me and said, “Uhh, thanks for coming.” I cocked my head. He whispered, “Korean couples don’t show any affection. It makes people uncomfortable. We have to respect their culture.” I squinted at him and said, “Fine. They don’t have sex either. Enjoy that part of the culture.”  This meet and greet was not going well at all.

After two minutes, the kids started a game of tag. The translator announced they had another meeting to go to. As I left, my husband said, “Why would you give them Coke?” Then he walked out with his human wall. I rode down the elevator with the sentry, my stomach in knots. My kids wanted to go to the park and ride on the swings. I had to dig deep to find the joyful, light hearted me who could push a swing for an hour straight, without yelling.

Is the Truth Over-rated?

Written by Eileen Wacker

As parents, my husband and I have always insisted that telling the truth is critical. It is one of our most important rules. No lying. Lying is a sure way to get your phone taken away or earn some other dreaded consequence. But now that my four kids are teens and tweens, I want them to stop telling ‘their truths’ sometimes. Keep things in a thought bubble instead.

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Last night, we decided to go to a local restaurant for dinner. I quickly changed into a casual sundress. My oldest daughter, Olivia, asked, “Are you going to wear that?” I almost responded, “No, I just put this on for fun. I’m going back into my closet and put on the outfit I’m really going to wear. This is my trial outfit.” This would only earn me a remark like, “Did you really say ‘outfit’? Really Mom? No one says that. Not one person.” Then I would be a dinosaur in a lame dress. She was not neutralized by my silence. She went on. “Ethan, do you see what mom is wearing? She’s wearing the nightgown again.”

I protested, “This is a sundress. It’s not a nightgown.” They ignored me and tween Ethan chimed in, “Yah. And she’s wearing the nightgown with a blanket.” I’m insulted. “It is not a blanket! It’s a sweater.” They start laughing. “Mom, sorry but you’re wearing a nightgown with a sweater blanket.”

In the restaurant, my tween daughter, Natalie grabbed my hand and looked at me earnestly. “Mom, your hair is about eight different colors. You need to fix it.” I took my hand back before she could see my bitten cuticles. I ordered a glass of wine. My teen daughter Olivia said, “You’re going to end up in jail if you drink that and that would be so embarrassing for me. Plus, I need a ride to Jen’s party this weekend.”

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Then my teen son Christian said, “No offense but…” I cut off his sentence because I don’t want to hear the rest of it. Inevitably what’s coming next is something negative. He had already said, “I’m just saying…” after making the observation, “That dress makes you look a little big.” I yelled at him for using poor grammar (‘little big’ is not a phrase) and made a mental note to never wear this dress again.

I don’t take it personally. Anyone can be the subject of their ‘observations’. My husband and I went to Napa for our anniversary. My parents came out and stayed with the kids. Everyone allegedly had an amazing time while we were gone.

But last night during the dinner, Natalie said, “to be honest, I think Grampy has to work on a few things.”

Ethan agreed, “Grampy is really fun and we love him but he breaks promises. You need to tell him we can see PG 13 movies. He promised to take us to the movies and then we didn’t go.”

Natalie said, “That would make him the oldest liar in the world and I don’t think he wants to be that.” Wow, tough crowd. She nonchalantly bit her mozzarella stick as I winced under her truth. Because she’s right. My dad would never, ever want to be thought of as the oldest liar in the world.

No one is safe from teens’ and tweens’ observations. They had a conversation about two iconic figures. Their opinion was Justin Timberlake is old and they had never heard of Clint Eastwood. The only connection they made is that both have trees as part of their names. And they thought this was hilarious.

Why do they tell the truth about my mommy flaws? They are constantly evasive about their own situations. I asked if anyone was sneaking electronics into his or her bed. I asked my son if he followed up with a teacher over a bad grade to see what can be done. I asked my other son how he ended up at a night beach party. “I don’t know what happened. We just ended up there.” I asked, “So you blinked your eyes and all of a sudden there was sand under your feet.” Blank looks were the response to all my queries. My sweater blanket had become a wet blanket.

Then it dawned on me. They tell the truth about my mommy flaws because they love me. This is their teenage way of teasing me, of trying to be funny. They are including me. I’m in the circle. And we are laughing and hanging out as a family.

Driving home, there was a fight over a song on the radio. I felt like my head might explode. I called Olivia a pill. She countered, “Did you hear what mom said?” Of course everyone heard what I said. We are all sitting together in the car. That’s the set up line. Because the follow up was, “Mom said I‘m acting like a pill! Hah! A pill! As if a pill acts like anything!” Then they all laughed so hard I thought we might drive off the road. I laughed too, treasuring this as a fun and memorable night.