Last Christmas Eve, it hit me like the brick to Marv’s face from Home Alone — or maybe it slowly crept up on me as I wrapped yet another gift at midnight, raging at the dull scissors and awkwardly shaped box that kept poking holes in the cheap dollar store last-minute paper.

I was doing something menial when the realization struck: This is unsustainable. Between two kids with winter birthdays — one sandwiched between Halloween and Thanksgiving and one just days before Christmas — I’m complete dust by the time New Year’s Eve rolls around, with only enough energy and sanity left to dispense noise makers and party hats and fall asleep on the couch at 8 p.m. No matter how much I try to delegate, I’m still the one deciding what needs delegating, explaining it, following up, and filling in the gaps when something inevitably goes awry.

This year, I’m throwing in the (decorative) towel. I’m stepping back. The kids are in charge of Christmas now.

No, they’re not taking over everything — I’m not insane — but at almost 10 and 12, they are old enough to do more than sit back and wait for the magic to appear. The 3-year-old, I’m sure, will follow suit, and perhaps be the most capable of them all by the time she’s their age.

This year, they’ll be in charge of what decorations we’ll put up, what food we’ll eat, and what activities we’ll do. They’ll source decorations, help shop for them, and handle the setup. When I brought this idea to my kids, their confusion quickly gave way to enthusiasm. They’ve always had opinions about Christmas (most kids do), but now they’ll have a say in making it happen.

Their ideas began to flow quickly. From classics like gingerbread house designs to the more ambitious like constructing a chocolate fountain. They’ve collaborated on a wish list for decorations, featuring popcorn strings to line the entire living room — not just the tree — and a DIY advent calendar where every day is a wacky dare. Plans are taking shape for an elf costume contest, caroling for our cat (what?), and a Dress Like Your Favorite Taylor Swift era. I’m unsure how that one is holiday-related, but I’m trying to remain open-minded.

We’ll have family meetings to discuss priorities: What traditions do we want to keep? What’s realistic, given our time and budget? And I’ll be there to set parameters — because no, we’re not putting a live reindeer in the yard or turning the living room into the North Pole.

Will everything go smoothly? Of course not. There will be chaos. There will be forgotten details. But there will also be laughter, creativity, and memories we’ll cherish.

Let me be clear: This is not about being lazy. This is about survival. Like so many moms, I’ve spent years carrying the mental load of holiday planning. Even with equitable efforts from a partner or co-parent, the mental gymnastics of remembering, organizing, and executing every step still feels like it falls to me. It’s not just doing the work; it’s thinking about it constantly, and that’s exhausting. Insidious messaging from every corner of our culture imprints upon us this image of a mom in a bright cardigan shepherding the children through the motions of holiday cheer. It’s no wonder why we have a collective meltdown this time of year. Luckily for me, their dad is on board with trying my give-it-to-the-kids approach.

Handing over some of the reins is a way to not just preserve my sanity but also to teach our kids something valuable: The holidays don’t just happen. They take effort, cooperation, and planning. Letting them take on more responsibility gives them agency, ownership, and the opportunity to create memories that feel uniquely theirs.

I’ll never be the “aesthetic mom,” and I’ve made peace with that. My Christmas will never look like a curated Instagram feed, and that’s OK. I have ADHD and anxiety, little patience, I’m disorganized, and, frankly, a little sloppy when it comes to execution. But beyond that, it’s about character. I don’t want to spend my holidays obsessing over matching garlands or arranging charcuterie platters just so. I want to spend them enjoying my kids and maybe a few Hallmark movies.

What kids want most from the holidays isn’t perfection. They want to feel loved, to spend time with their family, and to have a few (OK, maybe a lot of) gifts to unwrap. Of course the decorations and traditions matter, but it’s the feeling they’ll remember. And giving them a say in creating that feeling will serve them well as adults — whether they’re celebrating with friends, a partner, or kids of their own someday.

This year, the kids are in charge, and for once, I feel like I might actually enjoy the holidays.