Why So Many Moms Secretly Hate the Holidays (And Why It Doesn’t Make You a Grinch)
There is a very specific type of guilt that shows up around November and refuses to leave until January. It sounds like this.
“I should be more excited.”
“I have kids now, this is supposed to be magical.”
“Everyone else seems to love this time of year. What is wrong with me”
If you have ever found yourself quietly thinking, “I hate the holidays,” you are not alone. You are also not broken, heartless, ungrateful, or a bad mom. You are a human being who lives inside a very real set of pressures, expectations, and responsibilities that most holiday movies conveniently leave out.
Image Credit: Midjourney AI
The problem is not that the holidays exist.
The problem is what they have turned into and who ends up carrying the weight of making them happen.
For a lot of moms, that person is you.
Think about what actually lands on your plate. You remember every teacher gift, every white-elephant exchange, every classroom party, every office thing, every family tradition, plus whatever new activity your kids saw on TikTok and decided you absolutely have to do this year. You know what size pajamas everyone wears. You remember which wrapping paper is for Santa and which is from Mom and Dad. You see the school email about “wear a festive sweater tomorrow” at eleven o’clock at night and somehow still make it happen.
Meanwhile, the cultural script says that holidays are about rest, joy, and togetherness. That sounds nice until you look at the reality that someone has to cook, clean, plan, shop, decorate, host, manage the emotional temperature of the entire family, and show up for work like nothing else is going on.
Holiday magic is not magic at all. It is unpaid labor. And moms are usually the ones doing it.
So when you notice yourself dreading the season, it is not because you hate joy. It is because your body remembers what it actually costs you.
Maybe you feel it as financial stress, watching numbers leave your bank account faster than they come in, trying to stretch one paycheck into gifts, food, travel, outfits, photos, and school extras. People toss around phrases like “it’s the thought that counts,” but then side-eye the gift card you could realistically afford. That disconnect is exhausting.
Maybe you feel it as emotional whiplash. The holidays have a way of putting every complicated relationship on stage. You are expected to sit at tables with people who hurt you, ignore boundaries because “it is only once a year,” and smile through comments about your parenting, your body, your job, your choices. If you try to set limits, you risk becoming “the problem.” If you swallow everything, you pay the price internally.
Maybe for you it is grief and nostalgia that sits heavy. The holidays are a loud reminder of who is missing, what has changed, and which version of your life you thought you would be living by now. Sometimes the reason you feel numb or irritated is because the season keeps poking at old wounds that never fully healed.
On top of that, there is the mental load of motherhood that never takes time off. Your kids do not stop needing rides, snacks, attention, and conflict resolution just because there are twinkly lights outside. If anything, holidays can make the chaos louder. Bedtimes get pushed. Sugar intake skyrockets. Routines disappear. Screen time increases. Schedules blow up. The same person who is supposed to create the magic is also the person managing the meltdowns that follow it.
Of course you are tired. Of course you feel tapped out. Of course part of you wants to cancel the entire season and take a nap.
None of that makes you selfish. It makes you honest.
There is also a strange social performance built into this time of year. You are supposed to post the right photos. You are supposed to look grateful, festive, cozy, put together. You scroll through other people’s matching pajamas, perfectly lit trees, and “we are so blessed” captions while sitting in sweatpants on a couch covered in unfolded laundry, trying to remember what you forgot to buy.
You see everyone laughing and you think, “Why do I feel so irritated and heavy when this is supposed to be fun”
Here is the secret no one wants to say out loud.
A lot of people do not love the holidays. They are just better at pretending.
Many people search things like “why do I hate the holidays” or “why do some people hate Christmas” because they are trying to make sense of the disconnect. They want to know if they are the only ones who feel this way. The answer is no. The difference between people who survive the season and people who get crushed by it often comes down to one thing.
Permission.
Permission to make your holidays smaller.
Permission to say no to certain events.
Permission to skip traditions that no longer fit your actual family.
Permission to stop being the default event planner for everyone else’s happiness.
You do not owe anyone a movie-perfect December. What you owe yourself and your kids is a version of the holidays that does not leave you resentful, broke, and running on fumes by January.
That might look like buying store-bought cookies instead of staying up to frost twelve dozen from scratch. It might look like choosing one main gathering instead of five. It might look like rotating which side of the family you see each year, or creating your own private traditions at home and telling extended relatives that this season you are not traveling.
It might even look like saying, “I actually do not like this holiday very much,” and letting that truth breathe in the room without immediately trying to fix it.
Because here is the deeper point. Your relationship with the holidays is allowed to be complicated. Especially if your relationship with your own childhood was complicated. If you did not grow up with calm, safe memories around this time, you are not starting from neutral. You are trying to build something new while old stories are still echoing in the background. That takes energy, and you only have so much.
If you are a mom who quietly hates the holidays, start with this.
You are not a villain.
You are not ungrateful.
You are not alone.
You are a person who has been carrying everyone else’s experience on your shoulders for a very long time.
What would happen if, this year, you put some of that weight down
What if you chose the simplest version of holiday that still felt meaningful. What if you let some traditions go. What if you let people be temporarily disappointed instead of permanently burned out. What if you decided that your own nervous system matters more than other people’s expectations.
The truth is, your kids do not need a perfect holiday. They need a present parent. They will remember the feeling of the room more than the number of presents under the tree. They will remember that their mom laughed, played, and rested sometimes, not just the fact that she wrapped everything and washed every dish.
So if you have been secretly typing “I hate the holidays” into search bars and wondering what that says about you, let it say this.
You are paying attention.
You are noticing where something feels off.
You are ready to build a life that works in reality, not just in Hallmark movies.
You do not have to love the holidays to create something kinder for yourself inside them.
And maybe that is where the real magic starts.
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