When the Holidays Bring Out the Worst in Me (And What I’m Doing About It)
Every year, right after Christmas, I hit the same wall.
I’m frustrated. I’m annoyed. I’m disappointed. And if I’m being really honest… I’m usually mad at my kids.
Not because they’re “bad kids.” Not because I don’t love them. But because the holiday I built up in my head doesn’t match what actually happened in my home.
And then I get stuck in this loop:
“After all these years, shouldn’t they get it by now?”
“Shouldn’t they understand gratitude?”
“Shouldn’t they know how to give?”
“Shouldn’t they at least pretend they’re enjoying this?”
If you’re reading this and thinking, “Yep. That’s me too,” I want you to know something right up front:
You are not alone.
And you are not a terrible parent for feeling this way.
I’m right there with you.
The Part We Don’t Say Out Loud
For many foster and adoptive parents, the holidays come with a specific kind of hope.
We want to create magic. We want to give our kids what they didn’t have. We want them to feel safe, loved, celebrated… and yes, grateful.
And then we pour ourselves into it.
Sometimes we overdo it. (Hi. It’s me.)
Sometimes we spend more than we planned.
Sometimes we try to make the day so good it can cover the years that were hard.
And then… our kids react in ways we didn’t expect.
They don’t seem excited.
They complain.
They hyperfocus on what they didn’t get.
They don’t want to participate.
They don’t show appreciation without being forced.
They don’t think about giving to others.
And that gap—between what we hoped for and what happened—can feel like a punch in the gut.
Here’s the Reframe That’s Helping Me
This year I had a realization that stung a little:
I keep expecting the holidays to be different… without changing anything about the plan, the pressure, or my expectations.
I actually have proof. I’ve been using a “one question a day” journal for three years, and every single year, right after Christmas, I write some version of the same thing:
Why does this keep happening? When will I learn?
So here’s what I’m learning (slowly, but I am learning):
Gratitude can be taught… but it’s not automatic.
Especially not for kids who’ve lived through trauma, loss, inconsistency, and survival mode.
Sometimes what looks like “ingratitude” is actually:
overwhelm
mistrust
shame
dysregulation
fear of disappointment
not knowing how to receive
not having the skills to give
And Christmas? Christmas is a lot.
It’s routine changes, sensory overload, big emotions, expectations, performance pressure, family dynamics, and the weird cultural message that everyone should feel joyful on demand.
Some kids can’t do “joy on command.” Not yet. Maybe not ever in the way we picture it.
And that doesn’t mean they aren’t healing. It doesn’t mean they aren’t loved. And it doesn’t mean you’re failing.
So What Do We Do With This?
I’m not interested in lowering the bar to “anything goes.” Respect still matters in our homes.
But I am learning to separate two things:
1) Feelings (which we can’t control)
2) Behavior (which we can teach)
Because here’s the truth:
We can require respectful behavior without requiring cheerful feelings.
That one sentence has changed how I see the whole holiday mess.
Your child may not feel grateful.
But they can learn how to show appreciation.
They can learn how to participate respectfully.
They can learn how to give—with support, structure, and practice.
And we can teach that without turning Christmas into a guilt trip.
Practical Ways to Teach Gratitude (Without the Pressure Cooker)
Here are a few strategies I’m planning to use going forward—because clearly, white-knuckling Christmas isn’t working.
1) Teach a “gratitude script”
Some kids truly don’t know what to say. Or they freeze. Or “thank you” feels loaded.
So we practice simple phrases like:
“Thank you for thinking of me.”
“That was really kind.”
“I appreciate you.”
“This was thoughtful.”
No big emotional performance required.
2) Put giving on rails (because “be thoughtful” is too vague)
If your kid isn’t naturally thinking about gifts for others, they’re not broken—they’re under-skilled.
Create a simple plan:
Pick 2–3 people they’ll give to
Set a budget limit
Offer choices (gift card, snack basket, drawing, “coupon” for a game night, help with a chore, etc.)
Put it on the calendar with deadlines
Structure doesn’t ruin the meaning. It makes it possible.
3) Cap the gifts
This one is hard, especially when your heart screams, “They deserve everything.”
But too many gifts can create:
overwhelm
unrealistic expectations
less appreciation (because it’s too much to process)
more opportunity for disappointment
A cap can actually bring more peace.
4) Redefine what “success” looks like
Instead of aiming for:
joy
excitement
heartfelt gratitude
What if success is:
respectful tone
one family activity
using the gratitude script
giving a couple of gifts (with your help)
That’s a win.
That’s growth.
That’s real life.
If You’re In the After-Christmas Crash Right Now…
I want to speak to the parent who is sitting in the mess today, thinking:
“Why am I like this?”
“Why can’t I just enjoy it?”
“Why do I always get upset?”
Listen: you’re not crazy.
You are carrying a lot:
the mental load
the emotional labor
the desire to create safety and joy
the grief for what your kids lost
the grief for what you hoped it could be
And it makes sense that when the holiday doesn’t match the picture in your head, it hurts.
So here’s your permission slip:
You can love your kids deeply and still hate how Christmas feels.
Both can be true.
What I’m Choosing to Do Next
I’m choosing to stop replaying the holiday in my head like a failure reel.
Instead, I’m taking notes.
Because next year is coming—and I want to be smarter, not just more exhausted.
I’m going to adjust the plan, lower the pressure, teach the skills, and hold respectful boundaries.
And I’m going to keep reminding myself:
Healing doesn’t always look like gratitude.
Sometimes healing looks like staying regulated in a room full of good things.
If this hit home for you, I’d love to hear it. You’re not alone. I’m walking this road too.