• My birthday falls in the week between Christmas and New Year.
• Other celebrations always overshadowed my special day.
• My twins were born on December 23rd, and I often can't make their birth as special as I'd like.

Growing up, I often gave my parents low-key guilt trips about my birthday. Being born in the week between Christmas and New Year's meant I never got to have a celebration at school and rarely had parties since my friends were usually out of town.

While I understood at some level that my parents hadn't chosen that particular day on purpose, I carried a lingering resentment that I'd been born at the worst time of year.

My day was overshadowed by other celebrations

My "special" day always seemed to be overshadowed by the rest of the holiday season.

I got over it eventually. As a young adult, I threw parties for myself in late January or spent the day hitting post-Christmas sales with friends. Sometimes, when days of nonstop family time had drained all my energy, it was a treat to gift myself a trip to the movies — alone.

While I eventually made peace with the situation, a holiday birthday was one family tradition I had no intention of handing down. After I got married and my new husband and I started talking about children, I was careful to make the nine-month calculations and ensure I didn't get pregnant in March.

My first child, Clara, was born in early September, a date that came with its own issues but was well ahead of the holidays. But things weren't as straightforward when we started trying for a sibling. Eventually, I started IVF, and any attempts to time my next pregnancy went out the window. I was at the mercy of shots and cycles that were very much out of my control.

My due date was in February

The first attempt at IVF didn't take, but a few months later, the second one did. Soon I found out I would be having twins in early February. Crisis averted! Or so I thought.

Pregnancy being pregnancy and twins being twins, I should have known the due date was an estimate, not a guarantee. Throughout that fall, as I started coming to my doctor for more frequent checkups, she reminded me that twins tend to arrive early. After some signs of possible early labor, I was put on bedrest in early December. A few weeks later, I was moved to the hospital.

And early on the morning of December 23, James and Alan arrived.

My first emotion was overwhelming relief that they were healthy, and my second reaction was an overwhelming sense of guilt.

"I'm so sorry, little guys," I thought to myself. "I never wanted you to get stuck with a December birthday."

The one consolation, I hoped, was the fact that they had a mother who could commiserate and help them make the best of it.

I made sure their birthday was celebrated

From their very first birthday, I made sure the day was its own distinct occasion, with balloons and streamers and cake. I discreetly suggested to well-meaning family members that it was better to buy the boys two separate, smaller gifts rather than a single, combined "Christmas/birthday" present.

No matter what other holiday events were planned during that week, my boys got to choose whatever activity they wanted on their birthday and whatever kind of food. Christmas cheer would take a 24-hour pause.

That doesn't mean my boys are any happier about their birthday timing than I used to be. They've missed birthday-at-school shoutouts; birthday sleepovers with friends have had to be pushed into January; and despite my best efforts, I'm often so busy doing last-minute shopping and baking that I don't always make the day as special as it could be.

But I like to think this experience has taught my boys a lesson it took me a long time to learn. In a culture where people are constantly curating versions of themselves online, it's easy for children to think that anything they don't like about themselves can be airbrushed or exercised away.

But there are certain things about your life you can't control. Getting pregnant is one of them. Having a healthy child is another. And if you've ever worried about either of those things, you quickly realize how little an actual birth date matters.

The whole point of a birthday celebration is to make a person feel appreciated and special, to let them know they're loved. And you can do that any day of the year.

• My children have lied to me ever since they were young.
• This is a normal part of development as kids test the waters and try to avoid punishment.
• I've struggled to deal with the lying and tried to remain a positive role model for them.

It never ceases to amaze me how effortlessly my children lie. My 18-month-old, whose face was covered with crumbs, swore up and down that she hadn't been near the cookie jar. My preschooler looked me in the eye and denied breaking the window with his plastic bat that was still in his hand. It didn't seem to get better as they got older.

After I handed my ATM card to my two oldest sons so they had money for lunch, I asked for the change, and they said, "We only took out $5, so there is no change."

We all know you can't just withdraw $5.00. How could they tell me such a bald-faced lie with a straight face?

Dealing with my children's lies has been one of the most challenging aspects of parenting.

Lying is natural in childhood

Here's the problem: Lying is easy. What I find especially distressing is that no one has to teach children how to lie.

"Lying is developmentally appropriate," Ailen Arreaza, the executive director of Parents Together, a national nonprofit parent and family advocacy group, told me. "When a toddler or a 4-year-old lies, it's frustrating for the parent, but it's perfectly normal. It means that your kid's brain is developing in the way that it should be."

Arreaza also told me kids tell three kinds of lies: attention-seeking ones, careless ones, and serious ones that happen when they're older.

For example, one of my sons told me he missed curfew because he lost track of time when, in fact, he was at his girlfriend's house and just didn't want to leave.

"Often teenagers tell lies because they're afraid of the consequences or they're embarrassed," Arreaza said.

I struggled with how I should handle lying

Confronting my children in search of the truth is never comfortable. In fact, it can be exhausting — a round-robin of questions and denials before they finally break and admit what they've done.

There have been times when I was so eager to know the truth that I promised to refrain from any form of punishment. I want to hear a confession to satisfy my suspicion and feel vindicated, but then I face the sticky situation of what happens next time they lie.

"It's important to address the lie, but not in a way that shames the child and labels them as liars," Arreaza said. "This is about changing a behavior, not who the child is. Create a safe environment where truth-telling is encouraged. If they think they're disappointing you or they're going to get in trouble, they're going to continue to lie to please you."

I try to be a role model for my kids

I want nothing more than for my children to tell the truth, and often they do.

When he was 12, one of my boys came to me and, unprompted, confessed to a more serious lie he'd told previously. I had no clue, but it was eating him up inside. My son expressed his remorse and asked for forgiveness. I imagined the guilt was gnawing at him for betraying my trust.

I'm glad he admitted that he lied. In modeling the truth for my children, I hope they understand they can always come clean to me. My son felt safe and supported to do just that.

In that way, I have to believe that the truth will always win out in the end.

When my son was little, his father and I went through a custody trial and agreed on a holiday-sharing schedule. It outlined that if my son spent a holiday with me, the following year, he would spend that same holiday with his dad. So if I got Christmas Eve and Day with him one year, the next, his father would spend those days with him.

Initially, my son's father and I stuck to the original holiday-sharing schedule. I observed that while my son never had a preference for who he spent the holidays with, he did miss the parent he didn't get to see. After a few years of splitting holidays up, I was compelled to work with his father on a better arrangement. While it doesn't always work out perfectly, we have found that it's best for our son to spend time with each of his parents on any given holiday.

We do our best to come up with a plan that works for the whole family

Our new arrangement is informal, and I think we each try to work with each other based on what's going on with our respective families that year and how we divided up the holidays the year prior. While initially we had every holiday divided up until my son turns 18, I think the way we work with each other now is far more realistic.

One downside to co-parenting around the holidays is that I always have to tell other people that I need to talk to my son's father before we make any definite plans. Sometimes, I've wished I could just book a vacation over the winter break. However, I've realized that not only does his father deserve to spend time with his son on the holiday as much as I do, I know our son prefers it that way, too.

My immediate family understands that I may not have my son for certain traditions, so they factor this in when they're making their plans. They will ask me ahead of time on which days or times I'll have my son; not only are his father and I working together to make sure my son gets to see most of his extended family, but our families do their best to work with us, too.

It doesn't always work perfectly, so there have been exceptions

There are certain holidays where the division is an easy decision, such as Thanksgiving. Growing up, I always liked watching the parade in the morning. Every year, I had an aunt who would suggest we just eat our pie for breakfast, but no one ever went through with it.

When I had my son, I had the opportunity to make our own traditions. So now, he and I make pumpkin and apple pies the night before Thanksgiving and then have some for breakfast the next morning while we watch the parade. Since his father's family has a big dinner in the afternoon, we usually just split the day in half so that my son is with me in the morning and with his dad in the afternoon.

It might not be a perfect system, as my son is missed at our family's dinner on Thanksgiving, but after co-parenting for a decade, I've come to accept that his father and I always need to work together to come up with a plan that works best for our son, even if that means dividing up every holiday. Sometimes it doesn't work out, so we've learned to address every holiday individually.

Last year, my son's father wanted to take him up to New England to spend a week with his family that lives up there, and I was hesitant. My son and I had never spent a Thanksgiving apart before. When I asked my son if he wanted to go, he was excited. Not only does he rarely get to visit with those family members, but we live in Florida, so he had never seen snow before. I made sure he understood that he and I would spend Thanksgiving apart, and while he was sad about that part, we agreed that because it was a special opportunity for him, he should go.

Our new agreement feels right

This year, his father asked for Christmas Eve since I had my son for Christmas Eve last year. Then, my son will come home Christmas morning and spend the rest of the holiday with me, which is what he did with his dad last year. While I love to have my son on Christmas Eve, it's nice when I have him on Christmas Day, too. After spending alternate years without him on either of those days, I think our way of dividing up the holidays works out so much better.

Not only do we each get to share our traditions with our son every year instead of every other year, but my son can count on spending the holidays with both of his parents. It's always a little sad for him when he is separated from one of us, and that emotion is amplified on holidays. But I think it comforts him to know that his father and I will always work together to make sure he doesn't have to spend the holidays without seeing one of his parents.

• I compared roast-beef sandwiches at Jimmy John's, Jersey Mike's, and Subway to find the best one.
• The bread at Jimmy John's never fails to impress me, but I thought the rest of the sub was bland.
• My Subway sub was made with remarkably crisp produce, but Jersey Mike's easily had the best meat.

I could probably eat a sandwich for lunch every day for the rest of my life.

On my quest to compare popular chains, I put roast-beef subs from Jimmy John's, Jersey Mike's, and Subway to the test.

I ordered each sandwich on the shop's standard bread and piled them with provolone cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayo.

Here's how the roast-beef sandwiches stacked up.

Subway is easily one of the biggest fast-food chains.

Subway is one of the largest global chains, but its ubiquity hasn't necessarily led to an overly positive public opinion.

I'll admit that I've been let down by the restaurant more than once, but nonetheless, I count myself among its fans. Because Subway has over 30,000 locations globally, it's still nice to know I can probably grab something familiar at one, no matter where in the world I am.

I ordered a 12-inch roast-beef sub for $16.28, which breaks down to about $1.36 an inch.

The produce at Subway tasted surprisingly fresh.

Subway employees can sometimes go a little heavy on the sauce, but the few stripes of mayo I got were well-portioned.

The bread and cheese were nothing special, but the roast beef was actually pretty tasty — I just wish there was more of it.

The produce truly stood out here. The tomatoes were thickly cut and actually had good flavor, and the lettuce tasted fresh and crisp.

I'd argue that roast beef should be the star of a roast-beef sandwich, but I'm certainly not mad at the Subway sub.

Jimmy John's Big John sandwich was next on my list.

Jimmy John's is a Midwest staple that's spread to over 2,000 locations across the US. It's perhaps most famous for its fresh-baked bread.

I ordered a regular (8-inch) Big John but paid $1 extra to add provolone cheese. The total came to $11.41, or about $1.43 an inch.

The bread makes the meal at Jimmy John's.

Sadly, I thought my roast-beef sandwich from Jimmy John's tasted rather bland overall.

It needed a bit more meat, the meat needed a bit more salt, the cheese was all but undetectable, and the veggies faded into the background.

You'd think that would mean I didn't enjoy this sandwich, but that wasn't the case because of one thing: the bread.

Jimmy John's French bread is good enough to be enjoyed on its own with just some butter or perhaps a spread of Dijon mustard. It readily elevates what would've been an underwhelming sandwich into a perfectly decent meal.

Jersey Mike's served up freshly sliced meat.

New Jersey-based chain Jersey Mikes has over 2,000 locations throughout the US and Canada.

It's famous for building sandwiches with freshly sliced cold cuts, and it was the only chain where I watched an employee slice my roast beef seconds after I placed my order.

My No. 6 (roast beef and provolone) 7-inch sub cost me $12.36, or about $1.77 an inch.

My Jersey Mike's sandwich reminded me of one from a mom-and-pop deli.

The roast beef piled onto my Jersey Mike's sandwich was well over an inch thick. I pulled a few pieces of meat out to try on its own and found that it tasted high quality, too

The provolone cheese also had good flavor, but I didn't think there was enough lettuce, and the tomatoes tasted a bit bland.

However, the biggest issue I had with the sandwich was the rather sloppy, messy assembly. It was difficult to hold together as a cohesive unit, and the mayo was slapped on too heavily and unevenly.

I haven't ordered this enough to know if it was a one-off problem or a consistent problem with the chain's sandwich assembly.

There were pros and cons to each sandwich — I wish I could combine them.

The generous portion of roast beef and the quality of the meat at Jersey Mike's easily would've made it my favorite sandwich had it been assembled with more care.

However, as it is, there were things I liked and disliked about each sub. Jimmy John's sandwich tasted pretty bland despite its amazing bread, and Subway's felt underfilled but had lovely tomatoes and lettuce.

It would be divine if I could combine the meat from Jersey Mike's and the produce from Subway on the bread from Jimmy John's.

• Business Insider asked interior designers about the bedroom trends that are in and out for 2025.
• Designers think hand-painted murals, wallpaper, and natural hues will likely be popular next year.
• However, they said trends like matching furniture and recessed lighting will be out.

The new year is a great time to refresh your personal spaces, and the bedroom is no exception.

So, Business Insider asked interior designers to share the bedroom trends they think will make a big impact next year — and which we'll likely see less of. Here's what they said.

One designer said hand-painted murals will be popular in 2025.

San Francisco Bay Area designer Jasmine Wang predicts people will start to embrace hand-painted murals in their bedrooms because they add artistry, warmth, and a deeply personal touch.

She said this trend will take shape with nature-inspired scenes, statement accent walls, personalized artistry, and vintage motifs.

Neutral, restorative hues will likely be popular.

Ali Burgoon Nolan, the owner and principal designer of Studio Burgoon, said restorative hues like sage, clay, and soft taupe will help ground bedrooms with calming energy in 2025.

"Drawn from nature, these colors create harmony, offering a tranquil retreat within the home," she said.

Jordan Miranda, the founder and principal designer of JM Living Concepts, also thinks we'll see more muted-terracotta and warm-taupe tones. She also thinks natural materials like wood and linen will be popular.

Reading nooks are becoming trendy.

The bedroom is a place to unwind, which is why Nolan predicts more people will "transform the bedroom into a space for reflection, rest, and rejuvenation from daily life."

She said clients might do this by incorporating relaxing design features like reading nooks or meditation corners into their bedrooms.

Celeste Robbins, the founder of Robbins Architecture, also sees built-in nooks being popular next year.

"There is something intimate and grounding about a built-in nook in a bedroom," she said. "It's a place to curl up, read, or recharge that is not your bed."

Four-poster canopy beds will help create thoughtful separation in the bedroom.

In the age of at-home work and smaller spaces, Miranda acknowledges that the bedroom often becomes a multi-use environment.

By visually and physically defining the bed as its own cozy sanctuary, a canopy bed reinforces the boundary between work or activity zones and restful sleep areas.

"A canopy bed is a way to keep the sleeping space sacred, creating thoughtful separation between the rest of the room where a desk or exercise equipment might also live," she said.

Wallpaper is also making a comeback.

"One of the easiest and most cost-effective ways to enhance a bedroom without major construction is using wallpaper to create a feature wall," Kristin Christensen, the owner and principal designer of Mod Earth Studio, said.

She said wallpaper is "in" again because it's an easy way to add personality and flair to a bedroom for much cheaper than construction or custom pieces.

On the other hand, all-white spaces are out for 2025.

Wang and Nolan both told BI they think all-white, minimalist spaces are on their way out.

Nolan said, they can have a "sterile" look and more people are leaning toward "richer, layered designs that invite relaxation."

"The all-white, ultra-minimalist look is making way for spaces with more warmth, color, and texture," Wang said. "In its place, expect to see more accent-wall colors, layered neutrals, and earthy tones that create a cozy, inviting atmosphere."

Matching furniture sets are on their way out.

Wang and Christensen predict the "bedroom in a box" look will be replaced with a more curated and eclectic approach.

"Designers are mixing and matching materials, finishes, and styles to create a unique, collected-over-time vibe," Wang said.

Christensen recognizes that matching furniture sets provide a convenient solution for creating a polished look, but individuality and self-expression are becoming highly valued by everyday consumers.

"People are increasingly seeking to create spaces that feel more authentic and lived-in," she told BI.

Industrial-heavy styles won't be as popular in 2025.

According to Wang, the ultra-industrial aesthetic will exit bedroom spaces next year.

"While industrial touches may still be popular in certain spaces, the overly rugged look with exposed brick, metal, and harsh edges is being traded for softer, nature-inspired designs," she said. "Organic textures, natural woods, and calming colors are now the go-to for a warmer feel."

Recessed lighting is also out.

Christensen predicts that recessed lighting, a round lighting fixture installed into the ceiling or wall, will be replaced for its lack of ambiance.

"For years, recessed lighting was the go-to choice for many bedrooms, promising a sleek, minimalist look and ample light without taking up visible space," she told BI. "However, in recent years, recessed lighting has started to feel outdated, especially in bedrooms."

Instead, she said, people may opt for alternative lighting solutions with things like smart ceiling lights and dimmable fixtures, table lamps, bedside lighting, wall sconces, or pendant lights.

• I knew I didn't want my four kids to graduate from college with student loan debt.
• I started saving for college when my oldest was in the first grade, and it's not enough.
• With three more kids heading to college, I'm overwhelmed financially.

I was with my four kids on the playground one day, talking with the other moms. We were chatting about school, work, and tiptoeing around the subject of finances.

One of the moms mentioned saving for college, and it felt like cold water was poured on me. I had a vague idea about tax-advantaged college savings plans; our diligent financial advisor had surely discussed them in one of our meetings. But the numbers — the 529s, 401ks, and 403bs — all swam together in my head.

However, I was confronted by the fact that someone else with small children was already planning for college. I felt like we had just started saving for retirement, and now I had to start thinking about another future — four of them.

Did I have to start worrying about this already? If I wanted to be anywhere close to ready when they graduated from high school, I did.

That was years ago, and now that college is here, I'm worried we'll never have enough.

We knew college was going to be difficult for my large family

My parents remortgaged their house to pay for my college. While I hope it doesn't come to that, my family is in a difficult situation. My husband and I make too much money for grants. I am a freelance writer, picking up as many gigs as I can, and my husband is a small-business owner.

After the pandemic and online school, all of my kids' grades plummeted while their anxiety skyrocketed, so scholarships are not an option for them.

I also knew that I wanted my kids to leave college without any student loan debt that they'd be paying off for the next 20 years.

That meant college tuition fell on my husband and me. In two years, we'll have two college tuitions to pay. In the next seven years, we will be paying for all four of my kids to go to college.

We started saving years ago, and it's not enough

Shortly after that mom's group, I called my advisor, and we started college savings plans for each kid. We have been saving since my college freshman was in first grade.

We automatically withdraw $100 a month for each kid, which is $400 a month out of the budget. That's no chump change, but it's not even close to enough.

We saved $1,200 a year per kid for nearly 12 years. That's not even enough for one year of tuition, books, and room and board.

My oldest son started school in September. We saved $14,400 for him and used our state's 529 plan, so it was invested and grew to a little over $20,000. He attends an in-state public school, and those savings still weren't enough.

He works in the summer and on breaks to help with costs. For the remaining amount, my husband and I squeeze it out of our budget. We're on a payment plan, so it's broken up — $3,300 a month rather than $13,200 all at once at the beginning of the semester.

Getting a good education is still worth it

Education is a core value in my family. Going to college will afford my kids so many opportunities. Thankfully, my son is thriving at school. Despite the expense, despite my feelings of overwhelm, I still think it's worth going. He's happy, and he's learning a lot — both in his classes and about himself.

The finances aren't his concern right now. My husband's business is doing great, and I'm taking on more writing gigs and a couple of side hustles. There will be vacations closer to home, and the new bathroom that I've wanted for a while won't happen.

We will get through these next 10 years; we will just keep our heads down and pay the bills as they come in.

When the overwhelm starts to kick in again, I check my son's texts. The smiling photos with his college roommates and the video of his rugby club remind me all this is worth it.

• Kelly Okrepkie, 47, lives in Monroe, Connecticut and loves Christmas.
• She started decorating Christmas trees in her house in 2011, with the goal to have one in each room.
• She now has 13 Christmas trees that she decorates every year.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kelly Okrepkie. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I love Christmas.

When I was little my mom worked at a department store and I would always walk by their Christmas trees and think, "I want this when I grow up."

I started with my first tree when I got married in 2011. Then I had an idea: why don't I have one tree in each room? And then I started looking at the corners of each room and it slowly started to expand.

Now I have 13 Christmas trees that I put up every year.

Each tree has a meaning

I enjoy decorating trees that represent a certain meaning. I have a gold tree and a silver tree that remind me of the song "Silver and Gold" from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. That song takes me back into my childhood.

I have a tree for my dad. I decorated it with cardinals and I actually found ribbon with music notes on it. He loved music. He grew up on a farm so I used burlap and natural wood, too. I also have a tree for my mother-in-law. She always wore red, so I used lush red roses with big blooms — it's very vibrant. There's an angel at the top to represent her.

I feel so excited when I decorate trees for my loved ones who have passed. It's like I get to celebrate Christmas with them.

I put a little glass angel in every one of my trees as a blessing for the new year. My nephew bought them for me years ago at his school fair.

I like to decorate trees for my husband, Joe. My "Emerald City" tree is for his favorite childhood movie, The Wizard of Oz. For that, I made a hot air balloon and I put ruby slippers under the tree. This year I'm making him a Pontiac-inspired tree. He loves cars.

I plan the trees a year in advance

I start planning my trees a year ahead of time. I begin getting ideas and slowly collect ornaments throughout the year so that when the time comes, I already have everything and I'm ready to start.

I have bins and bins and bins of ornaments in the basement, all categorized. It takes me days to bring everything upstairs. I start making props in July. I made an ornament wall out of styrofoam that I glued to the wall. I hot glued every single ornament. It took me 12 to 14 hours.

When I create, I can't have any interruptions. I get filled with adrenaline and excitement. I just put on Christmas music, put my phone on vibrate and get into the zone.

Each tree takes me about three to five hours to decorate, depending on the size. I always try to update my looks. I try to make them better and invest more into them. I learn a lot from designers on Instagram. I've learned how to work with ribbons and picks. Here's a great tip: if you want a different look for your tree, just buy picks and insert them all around. It's a cost-efficient way to change things up.

I spend between $600 to $1,500 per tree

Each tree, with its decorations, cost me probably between $600 and $1500, depending on the height and width. This year, I took a trip to the Christmas Palace in Florida and I got some giant candy canes and bears and penguins and ornaments and globes.

But you don't need to spend that much to have a beautiful tree. You can do things like add a lot of lights, add picks and cover them with a lot of ornaments to fill it out. Instead of throwing empty boxes out, recycle them under your tree. Wrap them up like big presents. I do this so my cats don't climb the trees.

I would love to design meaningful trees for other people. I'd help them pick colors and items that remind them of their loved ones. My dream is to create a Santa's wonderland where families could come visit and take photos and create traditions of their own.

When my trees are up from November until January, they're the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see before I go to bed. I don't know when this obsession is going to stop but it just makes me so happy.

• My wife and I got married earlier this year, and planning the wedding was stressful.
• Leading up to the holiday season, I felt pressure to make our first Christmas together special.
• After talking to her, I realized that just creating memories together was enough.

After a stressful year of planning our perfect September wedding, I wasn't prepared to face additional pressure now that the holidays are approaching. This wasn't an ordinary Christmas filled with relaxation, eggnog, and just a sprinkle of family drama; this was the Christmas that would mark our first milestone as a married couple and set the tone for years to come.

During our first year planning the holidays as a married couple, we learned that navigating the season as a twosome is more stressful than we thought. Whose side of the family will we see? What traditions do we want to create or partake in? There were so many choices to make, and people pulling us in different directions, even with good intentions. Since we'd only get one shot at our first Christmas as a married couple, I worried that if we didn't create the perfect holiday, we would ruin this special moment.

I felt pressure to make our first Christmas together special

We live in New York City, and when we decided that visiting my family in Texas was too far this year (weddings are expensive!), we offered to host my wife's family, who were only a few-hour drive away. Foregoing travel would mitigate some of the holiday stress. However, marrying into a big family like I did, I was still worried our celebration as a newlywed couple would get lost in the holiday chaos. This is without any fault to my amazing new family; it simply can't be helped.

Many of their family traditions are also different from my own. For example, they like to celebrate on Christmas Day, while I love the magic of a sparkling Christmas Eve. I can still bring traditions to their family, like decorating gingerbread houses, which I've done every year. Part of the original excitement toward the holiday was thinking about all the family traditions we would create together.

It took me a long time to voice my concerns to my wife, worried I was overthinking it or wanting too much attention to still be on us. After all, we got married four months ago. However, my fears ended up being unfounded because, like the loving wife she is, Taryn listened and asked me what would make our holiday feel special. The truth was, I didn't know. Though I had all these expectations that this Christmas was supposed to feel different, I had no idea how to make that happen.

I had to get real with myself and understand that, just like when planning a wedding, putting too much pressure on yourself is the fastest way to steal the joy out of the process. Letting go of the idea of making things perfect allows me to focus on what truly matters: creating memories with my wife.

My wife and I decided to focus on creating memories together

So how do you go about making a newlywed Christmas as memorable as possible? We started with Christmas cards. Since we had a small wedding, not everyone in our life got to celebrate with us. Sending out Christmas cards we made together to those who are important to us helped us share our love — and our wedding photos. Speaking of wedding photos, there's no better Christmas gift for our family than a photo album to remember the special day.

We got an ornament with our wedding date on it for the tree, started planning out a festive dinner for our family, and, most importantly, we decided to prioritize spending time together. Little things like these helped me reclaim the excitement of our first Christmas. I realized I didn't have to put pressure on myself — or my wife — to do big things each day to have a special holiday season. We could do simple things, like share quiet moments or cook new holiday dishes as a couple.

I'm most excited to wake up on Christmas and have a private gift exchange (and not just because I love presents). Seeing Taryn open her gift will bring me irreplaceable joy, which I'm excited to share with her as a married couple. We made our mission simple: pick out a new winter scarf we think the other will love.

Our Christmas as newlyweds won't be the only one we spend together, no matter how special it feels. Romanticizing our first holiday was great in theory until it became a pressure cooker for perfection — decidedly unromantic. But in the process of reframing my mindset, I found that there was still magic and romance for the taking.

• Martins Lasmanis, the founder of Supliful, struggles with balancing startup growth and family time.
• Supliful quickly gained traction, and Lasmanis began working 16-hour days with three young kids.
• He now schedules family time and delegates work to manage 'dad guilt' and improve work-life balance.

My youngest son turned 3 this year — the same age as my startup, Supliful. As I watched my toddler playing on his birthday, I felt a strong sense of guilt creep up inside me. He wasn't a baby anymore, and I realized I'd missed out on him growing up.

"They grow up so fast!" is what all parents say. That day, this cliché suddenly felt terrifyingly real. Even worse — it felt as if, over the past three years, I'd spent more time growing my startup than paying attention to my children growing up.

That feeling was torturous

I've always wanted two things in life: a big family and my own business. Family is where I find peace and joy, and I find self-fulfillment in business. I've never been able to sit still and must be in constant motion.

In 2021, when I became a father of three and founder of a newly launched startup, I felt I was on the right path. My life goals were being met. I was nailing it.

While I didn't expect raising three kids and building a company from scratch would be easy, I didn't worry much either. I had already been there — a few years prior, I was running a successful online store while raising two preschoolers. I thought I had the experience necessary to handle the new responsibilities.

I was wrong

I soon realized my new venture had much more potential and was more complex and demanding than anything I had built before.

When I attracted serious interest from VC investors, my company was still in its ideation phase. We onboarded hundreds of users just three weeks after making our product public. By our second year in business, we were already making over $1M in revenue.

Success came with challenges and new responsibilities. I had to quickly grow our team, onboard new partners, and open a new fulfillment center on the other side of the world to ensure quality service to our clients — all while ensuring we didn't run out of money.

I spent my days on back-to-back calls with investors, business partners, and new hires. In the evenings, I sometimes had to help my colleagues pack and send out orders. I'd regularly travel between our office in Europe and the fulfillment center in Denver, feeling guilty for leaving my family behind every time.

My wife was extremely understanding

Throughout our 13 years together, my wife has always supported me. Although she wasn't happy about me staying late in the office or leaving for another business trip, she always encouraged me to pursue my career goals.

Without realizing it, my working days got longer. At one point, I worked 12 hours a day and sometimes as many as 16 hours.

I still tried to be as hands-on as possible with my kids. My wife and I had our own caregiving "shifts" — I covered mornings and after-work, taking the kids to and from school and day care. My wife handled the evening, taking care of dinner and putting the three to bed. We all tried to spend time together between dinner and my late work calls.

Eventually, a dreaded day came

"Daddy, you're working too much." My 7-year-old daughter caught me off guard. We had just finished our dinner one evening in September, and I prepared to disappear into my home office for another round of calls and emails. I responded "I know. I'm trying to build this business, but I should be more present with you."

I realized I was experiencing an enormous feeling of guilt — the feeling of failing as a parent because I wasn't there for my kids. While I saw my tight work schedule as a sprint that would eventually end, my kids only saw me working.

I had heard about "mom guilt," a term often used to describe the feeling women have when they believe they're not meeting their own or others' expectations in their role as parents.

I felt "dad guilt" — the dark side of entrepreneurship and many other demanding jobs requiring long hours. Every day, I feel guilty for not prioritizing my children or failing to build my startup.

I wish I had an easy fix to make this all balance out

I don't have a solution, but I have found a few things that make the weight easier to carry.

I make it a point to schedule family time on my calendar and never cancel it. I treat it as seriously as any work meeting and make a real effort to be present.

I set high standards, but I've had to remind myself that perfection isn't real. Sometimes, I take stock of the good I've done, balancing it against the areas I wish to improve. Reminding myself of these positives helps me feel more at peace with where I am.

I've delegated more work to my team, allowing me to spend more time with my kids this past month. We're moving to the US next year, so that will be another adventure.

Through it all, I'm beyond grateful for my wife. She's my best friend, and her unwavering support allows me to pursue my entrepreneurial dreams.

• I had a crush on my coworker and decided to tell him when my contract was up.
• He told me he was flattered but that he had a girlfriend.
• I wonder if the timing was off, but I'm glad I put myself out there.

I remember noticing him early on at my former job. He was funny and had a sunny smile, but he also struck me as confident and competent. A wave of excitement filled my heart every time he was around me, and I felt like a teenager with her first crush — even though I was in my mid-20s.

Maybe you don't like spoilers, but I do, so I will tell the truth right now. This is not a love story. This is a story of rejection after declaring my feelings to my former coworker when my contract ended.

I waited until my last day of work to finally confess my feelings for him, but I'm not sure it was the best decision.

I finally asked my coworker out

I didn't take the decision to tell him lightly. I debated with myself for a long time if I should tell him while we still worked together.

On one hand, I thought it would be heartbreaking for me if he politely declined and I had to see him every day. On the other hand, if he accepted my invitations and we began going out together, an awkward situation would arise. Even if we were working in different departments, being in a small company where we met every day surely didn't help my dilemma.

So, ultimately, I decided to come clean when my contract was finally up. When my six months ran out, I said goodbye to all my coworkers and devised a plan. I decided to finally confess my feelings as he stepped out of the office. Unfortunately, he didn't leave the office alone, so my plan was foiled. But I couldn't keep my romantic feelings to myself anymore.

When I got home, I wrote him a message, finally revealing that I had a crush on him and wanted to tell him in person, but there hadn't been an appropriate occasion. A few minutes afterward, I added that we could have a coffee together one day — if he wanted to.

My hands were sweating as I stared at the three dreaded bubbles showing he was typing. A long text message appeared; he was incredibly kind, even when rejecting me.

He said that he knows how difficult it is to declare your feelings, so he thanked me. Still, he was already seeing another girl.

Being rejected is painful. It can easily affect our self-worth and make us feel like failures. Even though I expected this rejection, I wasn't prepared for that intrusive emptiness that left me feeling lost and thinking that no one would ever want me.

Telling my friend what happened made things slightly more tolerable, but I needed a way to cleanse this intoxicating mixture of emotions from my body and mind.

Summer meant a lot of exercise classes in parks and on the beach. I decided to trade emotional pain for physical strain, and I went to a total-body class in July's heat. Moving my body and sweating felt amazing. It made me temporarily forget this situation.

I'm ultimately proud of myself

One question kept nagging me: Was it even worth telling him the truth?

But now that some months have passed, I don't have any regrets about how things went. Sometimes, I think if I had told him earlier, things could have gone differently, but anguishing over how something could have been is never sensible.

Regardless of the timing, I am proud of stepping out of my comfort zone and declaring my feelings. As an introvert, this can be incredibly challenging.

Even if it was painful at the moment, being rejected was better than remaining in doubt about his feelings.

Rejection is like a period at the end of a sentence. It can feel like an abrupt close, but endings often turn into new beginnings.

• I took an overnight train from Helsinki to Lapland that's called the Santa Claus Express.
• I paid $73 for my seat and the one next to me, so I was able to stretch out on the ride.
• Santa didn't appear on the 12-hour ride, but I found the journey exciting and festive anyway.

This month, I embarked on the overnight rail experience of a lifetime: Finland's Santa Claus Express.

The 12-hour train rides from the Finnish capital of Helsinki to Rovaniemi in Lapland — the "official home of Santa Claus," known for its Santa Claus Village.

For 70 euros, or about $73, I journeyed from the southernmost point of the country into the Arctic Circle.

My trip was a real adventure, but there are a few things I wish I'd known beforehand.

Some Helsinki hotels offer special checkout packages for guests catching late-night trains.

My train left at 11:13 p.m., so after checking out of my hotel at midday, I went and found a place to store my luggage in the city.

I also had hours to kill before boarding, so I visited the Senate Square Christmas Market, Temppeliaukio Church, and the Allas Sea Pool — working up a sweat in saunas then jumping in freezing water.

However, I later learned that many of Helsinki's hotels offer a late-night checkout package for these late-night trains. I don't regret my afternoon in the city, but others might prefer a quick power nap before the overnight journey.

The double-seat booking option was perfect.

My seat was about 47 euros, but the ability to book neighboring seats at a reduced rate was a game changer.

I added the 21-euro upgrade on a whim, but it really improved my experience. At 5-foot-3, I comfortably curled across two carpeted seats and managed to get some shut-eye.

Because I was traveling during peak season, all the carriages were booked. If I hadn't reserved the seat next to me, I would've been sleeping upright like a sardine with a neighbor.

I felt pretty smug being horizontal.

I should've brought an eye mask.

The biggest kicker was the conductor's insistence on keeping the carriage lights on overnight, apparently to prevent pickpocketing.

I get the gist of the strategy, but I'm actually not sure how effective it was for that purpose — everyone just covered their faces with their coats instead.

I'd undertaken a similar rail journey in Sweden last year and slept like a baby in the darkened passenger cabin. The low lighting even allowed me to spot the northern lights from the window. On the Santa Express? No such luck.

Sleeping with the lights on was much harder. In hindsight, I should've brought an eye mask or invested in a private cabin (40 to 160 euros) where I could control the light switch.

I didn't need to worry about the food options on the train.

I'd been worried about food quality on the train, so I hurriedly ate before boarding.

In hindsight, I didn't need to scarf down an 11 p.m. dinner. The train's restaurant car had an impressively varied menu.

Food service stayed open for dinner until 2 a.m. and reopened for breakfast at 4 a.m. There was a mixture of refrigerated sandwiches, pizzas, pastries, and alcoholic, hot, or soft drinks.

People weren't exaggerating about the dodgy internet.

Around an hour into the journey, both my mobile data and the train's complimentary WiFi stopped working.

I'd read other travelers' online reviews, and many people said that this would happen, but I hadn't expected it so early on in the trip, especially since we were still riding past fairly built-up suburbs.

Fortunately, I'd prepared for a digital detox and was carrying a pen and paper to jot down story ideas. Old school? Yes, but I have to admit it really amplified the feeling of adventure.

The toilets looked pretty but got a bit messy within the first two hours.

I'm happy that I snapped a picture of the toilets while boarding, as they looked pretty messy within two hours. It was a shame, as the decor and skylights were quite pretty.

On reflection, the situation wasn't helped by the small sinks — water splattered everywhere with each use of the tap.

Throughout the trip, they were usable but unappealing enough to make you think twice about drinking a coffee too fast.

Santa doesn't actually make an appearance, but the platform has a magical atmosphere.

My ride on the Santa Express was sadly Santa-free aside from the large illustrations adorning the carriage exteriors.

There was no festive dress-up or meet-and-greet on board, but the platform was magical nonetheless.

Carol singers erupted with Christmas songs, and barrier staff exchanged secret grins before allowing floods of giddy families onto the platform in festive Rovaniemi.

The excitement was infectious as I headed toward Santa Claus Village and the remainder of my trip in Lapland.

• Stanford University recruited my son to be a college athlete.
• He feared he wouldn't fit academically at the school.
• My son decided to drop out and transfer, but at the last minute, he found friends and stayed.

My son has always been an athlete, and sports have always come easily to him. However, he has had a problem with confidence ever since he was 8. That was when he lost the use of most of his body due to Guillain Barre, an autoimmune condition that left him paralyzed and forced him to take almost a year out of his life to re-learn to walk.

That was a huge setback, both physically and mentally, and it left him with doubts about his ability. Still, Fabian has persevered and exceeded all expectations. Not only has he become an incredible athlete, but he became the state discus champion as a sophomore in high school. He went on to claim fourth place at the National Championships in Eugene, OR, in 2021. Still, that was just the beginning of his journey.

Following Nationals, we received our first recruiting call. It was from the coach at Stanford University, and while I could not contain my excitement, my son paled.

He felt like he hadn't earned the right to be a Stanford student.

My son had doubts from the onset

I encouraged Fabian to go with the process. It was still early. I told him to just talk to the coach and that no decisions needed to be made just yet. We scheduled the first recruiting call. As we sat on the couch, side by side, my son sweating profusely through the hour-and-a-half phone call, we heard about all the exciting things that Stanford could offer and watched videos of the incredibly beautiful college campus.

When we got off the call, I couldn't wait to talk to my son about this incredible opportunity. This is what he has worked so hard for. As I turned to him, he said, "I am not going there," with a note of finality in his voice. He walked into his room and shut the door.

As we talked, it became obvious that the old feelings of inferiority that started as an 8-year-old surfaced. He wasn't sure he could cut it at Stanford academically. He didn't think he belonged as a student; he thought the school only wanted him for his athletic ability.

We continued talking about his accomplishments, amazing grades, and growing accolades in his sport. He agreed to give it a chance, especially after we visited campus on a recruiting visit. The chill campus atmosphere seemed perfect for my laid-back son.

His imposter syndrome made his freshman year difficult

As we moved Fabian into the dorms at the start of his freshman year at Stanford, he seemed excited to begin his journey. I left California to return home to the East Coast feeling excited and hopeful for him. This lasted all of two weeks.

In our daily phone calls, I heard sadness in his voice as he told me how homesick he felt. I tried to hear and understand his feelings. Over and over, the theme of not feeling like he belonged there echoed in our conversations.

When Fabian came home for Thanksgiving, he sprained his ankle and tore a ligament in his foot. When he returned to school after the break, he became outright depressed as he sat in his room alone while his teammates traveled to competitions.

Already feeling like he didn't belong academically, he felt even more lost because the only reason he was at Stanford was to be a recruited athlete; now, he could not even participate in his sport.

When Fabian came home for Christmas, I received the message loud and clear: He was not interested in returning. He was done with Stanford.

Without the pressure, he's now thriving at Stanford

I was torn on how to support my son through this. I wanted him to understand he should not give up on this amazing opportunity that would open doors for his future.

We finally discussed options and settled on finishing the trimester and then transferring colleges. As the end of the trimester approached and I became increasingly anxious about my son's future, I noticed a change in him. The closer it came to him being able to come home, the more relaxed he became. It was as if the pressure was off. He excelled in his classes. He had a solid group of friends, and they were inseparable.

As my husband and I planned to leave for our cross-country trip to pick Fabian up from Stanford for the last time, he decided to stay. When the pressure was off, he could finally experience the sense of belonging that was missing all along.

He finally found his place at Standford and on his team. Fabian now has the chance to compete as a college athlete this year.

• My fourth-grade teacher showed up to school with painting materials one day.
• She told me she wanted me to paint something for her and my mom for the holidays.
• My teacher made me feel seen and included, and I still remember her.

There's a moment when you receive a compliment, and you shrug it off immediately as though an insect had just landed on your shoulder. That happened to me when I was sitting on the floor of my fourth-grade classroom, painting a poster for a school project.

The poster-maker job fell into my lap after I lost a game of "Not it." Truthfully, I was happy to sit quietly and draw instead of fussing with my classmates about how to do our book report.

When my teacher came over to check on our progress, she leaned in and told me how much she liked my painting. I felt a mix of embarrassment and disbelief at being singled out for such praise.

I was even more surprised when Miss J, as we called her, showed up at school one day with a large shopping bag. Inside were paint brushes, watercolor paints, and two sheets of paper rolled up and held together with an elastic.

She said she wanted me to paint her something and that the second canvas was meant for my mom so I could make her a Christmas present.

Deciding what to paint

A blank canvas can be anything you want. It's a scary thought for someone like me who overthinks everything, but that's precisely what Miss J wanted me to do: paint anything of my choice.

At 9 years old, I had dozens of paintings under my belt, but never this size and not on paper that didn't buckle and warp as soon as you touched it with a wet paintbrush. The paints seemed too nice and new to use on something other than a school project.

I thought of the books my mom would read to me and decided to paint something from "Winnie the Pooh." I chose the original version of the character for my teacher and the Disney version for my mom since she had a certain fondness for the Pooh Bear look, as you can tell from baby photos of me wearing a top with no bottoms.

I had a VHS tape of a Winnie the Pooh movie and set out to recreate the cover for my mom's painting. I sketched the design in pencil first.

Then, I began the daunting task of trying to fill this oversized canvas using my once pristine tubes of paint, now squished and dented.

What my teacher's gift meant to me

When you're from a different cultural background, sometimes people overlook what you have in common. For example, a colleague asked me what my family does this time of year despite encouraging everyone else to share their Christmas plans. Remarks like these single you out, and not in the caring way of a teacher who pays you a genuine compliment.

As one of a few kids in my fourth-grade class from an immigrant family and a single-parent household, everywhere I looked, there was someone whose life looked different from mine. But instead of assuming I didn't celebrate Christmas, which I did, my teacher just wanted me to feel included.

Her generous gift showed me I had a talent worth buying and actually using quality art supplies. She even had my painting professionally framed like my mom did.

I saw it once when we drove by her house in the sixth grade. It was, just as she said, right in the middle of her living room, surrounded by custom matting.

Memories fade, but colors endure

The teacher I saw every day, who introduced me to Maya Angelou and Jane Goodall, took a leave of absence when she found out she was having a baby. I moved on, too, starting high school a year early.

As an undergraduate student, I bumped into Miss J one evening. She was sitting in her car like she was waiting for someone, and I felt hesitant to approach her.

Maybe she wouldn't recognize me until she pointed at me and smiled. Her son came out of a nearby building, and she pointed at me a second time and told him, "That's the girl who painted the Winnie the Pooh picture in your room."

In grade six, I gave her a second painting as a baby gift. Thirty years later, I can't remember exactly what these paintings look like.

I just know that I wanted to capture the feeling of playing in the Hundred Acre Wood, the fictional place where Pooh Bear and his friends would gather.

My teacher's gift reminds me of something we all want: someone to acknowledge and remember us. I'll never forget her.

• Business Insider asked etiquette experts about the mistakes to avoid when hosting for the holidays.
• It's important to make sure everyone feels welcomed — even unexpected guests.
• Hosts should also ensure there is enough seating for everyone at the party.

Although hosting friends and family for the holidays can be fun, there's no denying that doing so also comes with its fair share of stress. Without proper planning, things can even get chaotic.

To avoid making etiquette mistakes in the process, Business Insider asked two experts to share the top mistakes they see people make when hosting. Here's what they said.

Don't chastise guests for bringing an unexpected plus-one

Diane Gottsman, a national etiquette expert and the owner of the Protocol School of Texas, told BI that hosts should never reprimand a guest for bringing an unexpected plus-one.

If this happens, she said to address the issue later — not in front of others.

"You don't want to reprimand the guest or the guest's guest in front of anyone. Later on, you can say, 'Sally, I wasn't expecting a plus one because it kind of put me in an awkward position with other people.' But you can say that privately at another time, not that night," Gottsman said.

Make sure there is enough seating for all guests

When it comes to seating, it's important to double check your head count and ensure everyone has a place to sit. Gottsman said this should also be done for more casual events like cocktail or dinner parties.

"You want to have enough seating for people," Gottsman said.

Avoid creating a chaotic environment

Etiquette and hosting expert Carla Shellis said another common mistake hosts make is not considering how they want their event or home to feel.

By yelling and scrambling to get things done at the last second, the host can unintentionally leave the space feeling more chaotic than welcoming.

Gottsman shared similar thoughts, telling BI, "When the doorbell rings with your first guest, you should not still be in your hair rollers, or lighting candles, or racing around talking about how busy you are."

To combat a chaotic situation, Shellis likes to play music, light candles, and clean the space before her guests arrive. She also gives herself plenty of time to get everything done so she doesn't have to rush.

Be cautious when serving alcohol

Shellis told BI that serving too much alcohol is an easy way to create unnecessary issues at a party. That's why it's important to ensure everyone is enjoying themselves in moderation.

For instance, Shellis said when people ask her if she has any more wine, she'll say no and redirect them by offering other beverages like iced tea or soda.

"For 30 years, I've been hosting parties, and I'm going to tell you there's nothing that will kill a beautiful environment quicker than somebody that's hammered and acting foolish," Shellis told BI.

• My kids are teenagers now, but they believed in Elf on the Shelf for more than a decade.
• When I was deep in my elf years, I complained about the work, and now I miss it.
• These days, my elves are literally sitting on a shelf, and the holidays aren't quite the same.

My kids are 14 and 16 now, but they held onto their belief in Elf on the Shelf for over a decade. When they were preschoolers, I'd set up elaborate displays showing Jingle and Garland (each kid had their own elf, naturally) pulling all sorts of pranks. Over the years, the elves toilet-papered the bathroom, hung everyone's underwear on the Christmas tree, and made snow angels in flour on my kitchen counter.

I have always been, if nothing else, organized. Each year I'd make a spreadsheet with the elves' activities for the entire month of December. December 3? Fishing in the kitchen sink with Goldfish crackers. December 18? Stealing Baby Jesus from the nativity set. The ideas varied from maximum mom effort to simple. Like Christmas gifts, I'd buy the supplies in advance and store them away so I had what I needed for a month of elfin shenanigans.

Now that my kids have outgrown Elf on the Shelf, I miss it

I'll never forget times when, as we sat at dinner, my 6-year-old daughter would dreamily say, "I wonder what the elves will do tomorrow?" or the moments I'd hear my 8-year-old son exchanging stories with his friends at school about what everyone's elves did the night before.

We were an all-in elf family: We watched the "Elf on the Shelf" holiday cartoon special, we owned EOTS pajamas, we added Elf Pets — like a reindeer and a St. Bernard — to the fold, and I … well, I was exhausted keeping up with it all.

"I forgot to move the elves," I'd sometimes groan, warm under the covers and ready for bed. More times than I care to admit, I was up at midnight sneaking around the house, setting up scenes to make my kids think the elves drew mustaches on our family photos or were taken hostage by their Lego minifigures. Later, on bleary-eyed coffee dates with mom friends, we'd commiserate over our hatred of the elf, which always seemed strange to me, considering it was an evil we willingly brought on ourselves.

I don't regret telling my kids the elves weren't real, but it's still bittersweet

My kids' disbelief in Santa Claus and all the magic that comes with him came later than other kids. In fact, after a particular Christmas of wearing myself out with the magic-making, I told my husband, "I am so sick of an imaginary man getting credit for all the hard work I do as their mom." Tired of the Santa-run patriarchy, I decided if they were still living in the world of make-believe by Easter, I'd spill the beans.

When Easter rolled around, I had to sit my 11 and 13-year-old kids down and tell them the truth. They admitted they'd suspected it for a while and, of their own accord, asked my husband if they could make me an Easter basket that year. Inside were all my favorites: lottery scratch-offs, lip gloss, Hot Tamales, and a copy of "The Velveteen Rabbit," my favorite children's book. Inside, they'd written, "Mom, thank you for all of the magical holidays."

These days, the elves are, quite literally, on the shelf

For the first few elf-free Christmases, we jokingly moved Jingle and Garland from room to room. I'd slide the elves behind the mirror of my daughter's dresser then, the next day, find the creepy little felt creatures staring up at me from my office desk. These days, however, the elves are stationary. They are quite literally on the shelf, sitting on a bookshelf with some other holiday decorations as a relic of Christmases past. And, hear me out: I miss them.

Raising two teenagers is wildly fun and I'm not the mom who often laments how "fast it all goes" and pine for the toddler years. Still, there's a bit of magic missing from my home during the holidays — magic that left with my kids' belief that Jingle and Garland, two scout elves from the North Pole, returned to Santa nightly to report on their behavior and came back to pull silly pranks each morning while they slept.

Making holiday magic is a lot of work, but it's worth it

I'll never be the parent who tells younger moms and dads to "enjoy every moment," because parenting is stressful and hard. But I will tell you this: Enjoy those late nights waiting for your kids to fall asleep so you can move your Elf on the Shelf to its next destination. Relish in those little voices shrieking in delight about elves found having sack races with stuffed animals or tea parties with Barbie dolls. Memorize the faces and the giggles and the joy that Elf on the Shelf brings because, believe it or not, you will miss it one day.

And pro tip? Set a reminder on your phone to move that darn elf before you get snuggled into bed for the night.

• I'm the only vegan in my family, and I stock up on holiday foods everyone can eat at Trader Joe's.
• Boxed baking mixes take the work out of holiday desserts, and Trader Joe's has some fun ones.
• Trader Joe's frozen appetizers simplify holiday entertaining at dinners, parties, or gatherings.

As the only vegan in my family, the holidays can be challenging — I want everyone to enjoy the festivities without having to sacrifice their favorite foods.

Luckily, the variety of seasonal products at Trader Joe's simplifies hosting without compromising anyone's dietary preferences.

Here are some of my favorite vegan Trader Joe's products for entertaining friends and family this time of year.

Boxed mixes streamline holiday baking.

Whether you're not a baker or just short on time, Trader Joe's multipurpose gingerbread mix is great for making cookies, cakes, bars, and more.

The mix itself is naturally plant-based, and to keep it that way, I use a flax egg and plant-based butter when I prepare it.

Precut vegetables and herbs speed up meal prep.

In the winter, I rely on Trader Joe's flavorful holiday vegetable hash.

Since the peeling and chopping are already done, I just sauté or roast the mixture of diced butternut squash, sweet potatoes, red onions, celery, parsley, sage, and rosemary before adding it to dishes.

It gives me a headstart on dinner when I'm making stuffing, soup, or side dishes with quinoa and wild rice. The mix also tastes great in breakfast scrambles and burritos.

Peppermint popcorn is an instant hit on the dessert table.

Sweet meets savory in Trader Joe's seasonal peppermint-crunch popcorn, which mixes dark- and white-chocolate-coated kernels tossed in crushed candy canes.

It's great for a holiday dessert table or a cozy movie marathon, but it also makes a nice host gift.

Sometimes, I'll even add it to a larger holiday snack mix or rice-crispy treats for extra festive cheer.

Trader Joe's holiday gummies are just plain fun.

It's easy to keep my candy dishes full with Trader Joe's gummy Scandinavian Tidings, which come in all sorts of festive shapes.

I also saw a Festive Chaos candy mix this year. It contains bovine gelatin, so it's not vegan, but the rest of my family can enjoy it.

Aside from snacking, these festive bags make excellent stocking stuffers. You can also use them to decorate gingerbread houses and top holiday cupcakes and cookies.

Candy-cane Joe-Joe's are a must for me every winter.

Perhaps the most anticipated product of the season at Trader Joe's is its candy-cane Joe-Joe's.

The peppermint sandwich cookies are great on a holiday dessert board, chopped and stirred into a bowl of ice cream, crumbled on top of eggnog, and dunked into mugs of hot cocoa.

You could even crush them into bits to make an easy pie crust.

The regular candy-cane Joe-Joe's are "accidentally" vegan — meaning they just happen to be fully plant-based. However, the gluten-free version of the cookies may contain milk and eggs, per the ingredient list.

Stuffed olives are a game changer.

Zesty lemon-stuffed olives are my top pick for adding flair to cocktails, mezze platters, and charcuterie boards.

The citrusy olives are good as a right-out-of-the-jar snack, but I also skewer them on toothpicks alongside vegan cheese and cocktail tomatoes or chop and swirl them into dips.

If lemon isn't your thing, other stuffed-olive options are available, including garlic and jalapeño.

Peppermint mini marshmallows add a jolly twist to classic favorites.

The vegan peppermint mini marshmallows are something I look forward to all year.

Toast and sandwich them between graham crackers and chocolate for festive s'mores, or melt them with vegan butter for a holiday take on the quintessential rice-crispy treat.

For the ultimate seasonal beverage, I like to include them on my hot-cocoa bars alongside plant-based whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

Trader Joe's frozen appetizers are a huge help.

I check appetizers off my to-do list with Trader Joe's frozen crispy vegetable pouches.

The pockets of pastry dough are filled with jicama, taro, cabbage, carrots, onions, and shiitake mushrooms for an elegant plant-based hors d'oeuvre.

They're seasoned with garlic, soy sauce, ginger, sesame oil, and red chili, adding global flavors to your holiday menu. Plus, they're ready to eat in under 15 minutes.

Click to keep reading Trader Joe's diaries like this one.

• As the eldest sibling, I felt pressure to spend money on my family during past holidays.
• It made me happy, and I wanted to be seen as successful. This year, I'm not making as much money.
• My financial position gave me anxiety, and I needed to find a solution.

I take the role of being the "eldest sibling" seriously. As the oldest sibling, I want to be a good example for my younger brother, look out for my family's needs, and be reliable and responsible.

For me, financial success is the best way to fulfill this role. In 2023, I stayed true to my role while making a decent monthly income. After monthly expenses, I could save some part of my salary. I'd spend that on my family when I visited over the holidays. But in July 2024, I turned to freelancing. My income wasn't stable, and I felt more financial pressure than ever.

As the holidays neared, I grew more anxious about money. I was still finding my footing in the freelancing world, and my savings were drying up. If I wasn't earning well, I couldn't spend well, either.

I worried about whether I could afford holiday expenses this year. I wanted to live up to what I expected of myself and what I felt my family expected of me. I also wanted to avoid the mistakes I'd made during the holiday season last year.

This year, I'm not in the same financial position as I was last year

When I went home for the holidays last year, thanks to my stable income, I wasn't worried about spending or having a holiday budget. However, I realized I should have set a spending limit when I returned. I had gone overboard.

My "eldest daughter syndrome" had kicked in several times. Treating my family to dinners, arranging celebrations for cousins, buying last-minute gifts — I wanted to take care of everything. I wanted to be reliable.

This year, my heartbeat quickened at the thought of going home. Whenever my brother called me to plan a dinner or a trip with the cousins, I would instantly check my account and wonder how I would afford it.

I didn't have the same financial privileges I'd had the year prior. Freelancing seemed promising, but I hadn't yet gotten in the groove of onboarding regular clients and earning a consistent income. I wouldn't get paid for 1-2 months after submitting one-off assignments and had to rely on my savings for expenses.

The whole month before I went home to see my family, my anxiety was through the roof. I needed a plan to navigate my financial anxiety. But first, I had to understand why it exists.

I had to look at why I felt so much pressure to pay for everything

I had a few fears. I was afraid I'd run out of money because of last-minute expenses, like dinners and gifts. I was afraid that my family would have to cover me if that happened. Lastly, I feared they would judge me if they had to cover me. I also didn't want anyone paying my way; after all, I felt like I was supposed to look out for my family, not the other way around.

I realized that spending money on my loved ones wasn't just a way to fulfill my role as the eldest sibling. It also gave me immense pleasure and was important to me. Whether it was a small gesture or a cozy dinner, I wanted to offer it.

As I explored further, I thought about how I spent every holiday since I'd started earning my own money. My parents, my cousins, everyone would offer to pay for things or contribute, but I'd insist on taking care of it. I'd go to great lengths to make sure I was the one paying. Once, I argued with my mom to let me pay for her new sweater, in front of the cashier.

When I thought back, I realized that though I enjoyed paying for things in the past, no one else expected it from me. I wanted to do it because I wanted to be perceived as responsible. In reality, I realized that I was adding unnecessary pressure on myself, especially when I was struggling to earn well.

Once I identified the problems, it was easier to look for solutions.

I figured out ways to alleviate pressure on myself

First, I allotted money to a holiday budget and decided to take on a couple of extra freelance projects to make sure sticking to it wouldn't strain me financially. I also installed a savings app that automatically transferred a fixed amount from my bank account daily. I could withdraw those savings if I went over my predetermined budget.

I noticed that the idea of unplanned holiday expenses like last-minute gifts was freaking me out. I started looking for gifts a month in advance so I'd have time to choose things that fit my budget.

Next, I examined the pressure I always felt to pay for outings with my family. I realized that I didn't have to pay for everything while struggling to build a career — and, further, no one expected me to.

Once I gained control of my holiday budget, I started to feel more confident. I also realized that I don't — and can't — always have it all together as the eldest sibling. I had to come to terms with the fact that I can't pay for everything this year. I can foot the bill for a couple of dinners with my family and cousins, but not all of them.

Letting someone else pay might challenge how I thought of myself in my role as the older sister, but keeping up that perception for myself just isn't worth it. I decided to be open to others contributing or offering to pay. I'm trying to make my peace with it.

I also reassure myself that my budget is restricted only for this holiday and that there are many more lavish holidays to come.

• Our home is within walking distance of a good school, but it wasn't the best fit for my daughter.
• To get to her school, we learned she would have to rely on Washington, DC's public transit system.
• She was just 10 at the time, but the experience taught her independence and confidence.

Just before my daughter was born, our family purchased a house in a quaint neighborhood in Washington, DC. We stretched our budget to buy a home on a quiet, tree-lined street in a "good" school district. Like many families, schools were the driving force behind our decision.

Our house is within walking distance of what were then well-regarded elementary, middle, and high schools. We thought we had created a perfect lifestyle, one that included our children walking to and from school until they graduated from high school. I was grateful for the privilege to be able to do so. The plan worked brilliantly for my daughter's elementary school years. We made the seven-minute walk to school and back together until she was in fourth grade. Then, she preferred walking with a friend. No one batted an eye in our nearly crime-free neighborhood.

The middle school in our neighborhood wasn't a good fit

Everything changed when my daughter started middle school. Although we originally intended to send her to our neighborhood school, we found a charter school that was a much better fit for her. I rejoiced when she got in. However, my joy was quickly replaced by despair when I realized there was no good way for her to get there and back. For the first time in my daughter's life, she wouldn't be able to walk to school.

Our school district doesn't provide transportation to students. Because my four kids attended four different schools, each in different parts of the city, driving her wasn't realistic either. Nevertheless, I wasn't willing to let this logistical nightmare get in the way of sending her to a dream school.

I realized putting my daughter on the city bus was the only feasible option

Washington, DC, is a city with a robust and reliable public transportation system. As I frantically searched for a solution, it became clear that taking the city bus was the best, and perhaps only, solution. My daughter, who has a late summer birthday, was only 10 when she started middle school. I worried about sending a child so young on the bus alone but decided we would have to give it a try.

My daughter has taken public transportation around the city since birth, but never without an adult. Even though she is a born-and-bred city kid, I still worried about her navigating public transportation alone at such a young age. Although she had already been walking to school without supervision for two years, she had done so safely enclosed in a familiar neighborhood, surrounded by families I knew would have treated her like their own if she ever needed help. Now, I was thrusting her alone into a big city. I worried but took a deep breath and committed to the plan.

We taught her the ins and outs of public transportation

My husband and I did our best to prepare our daughter for her new responsibility. We took her on a few practice runs, not telling her when she made mistakes like missing her stop and guiding her as she course-corrected on her own. We taught her lessons about safety, like always keeping her backpack on her lap to avoid theft, sitting near the driver so she could ask for help if anyone bothered her, and never wearing flashy jewelry. We made sure she understood how to use our transit system's app so she could check what time she needed to catch her bus and plan her route.

The first day of school arrived, and she was on her way. She had a couple of mishaps during the first few weeks. Once, she got distracted and rode right past her stop. Another time, she got on a bus going the wrong way. When these mistakes happened, as I knew they would, she called and we talked her through a solution. She always found her way home, more confident in her navigation skills and ability to adapt if something went wrong.

My daughter loves her independence

Some other parents thought I was being irresponsible by allowing my 10-year-old to ride the bus alone. However, my daughter rose to the challenge and thrived. Now, she is 14 and in 9th grade. She not only takes the bus to get home from school, but deftly navigates all forms of public transportation around the city. She loves her independence, and so do I.

When we travel, my daughter is adept at navigating new public transportation systems with ease. College, and even more independence, is approaching faster than I would like. Seeing my daughter find her way in vast, unfamiliar places gives me confidence that she will be okay on her own when she eventually launches.

If I had listened to those who thought my daughter was too young to handle this type of independence, she would not be at the fantastic school she goes to today. She would not be able to zip around the city, go shopping, see movies, or visit friends with such ease and without her Mom's help. She wouldn't have as much confidence as I see daily, confidence that spills over into other areas of her life. It's bittersweet to see my daughter so deft at a skill that takes her one step closer to complete independence, but it's one she needs. I'm glad she developed it early.

• In 2019, after relapsing multiple times, I stopped drinking.
• I was discharged and decided to treat Christmas Day as any other day, not to be pressured.
• I didn't have the urge to drink, and it was exactly what I needed.

November 10th, 2019, could have been my gravestone date, but it became my sobriety date instead.

It was my fourth and final detox from alcohol addiction; I had been caught in a cycle of repeated relapse for several years — this time, I had to make it work.

During my hospital admission, I naturally thought about the future and the next steps in my recovery. At that moment, the thought of Christmas filled me with dread.

The reality is that alcoholism makes you more and more insular, and I was desperately clinging on to the few people I had left. Knowing I was going to be spending Christmas alone for the first time felt like a punishment. It was the opposite.

The previous year, I blacked out

The previous Christmas Eve, I had been in the same hospital for a mental health crisis. While there's no question my drinking significantly exacerbated my mental state, at the time, I wasn't thinking about sobriety.

When I had been discharged earlier on Christmas Day, I went home and slept through the day. It had become routine: I would be kept overnight and discharged the following day after being seen by a psychiatric nurse. I woke up at about 7 p.m. to drink just enough to prevent having withdrawals and went back to bed. Truth be told, I don't remember anything between Christmas and New Year's Day, and it was the longest I'd ever blacked out.

This time around, I was discharged after an eight-day admission for detox, and my first priority was getting through my coming holiday without any alcohol.

I treated the day like a normal one

Two days before Christmas Day, I decided to treat it like any other day but make it extra special. I bought a chicken to roast, vegetables, and an extra nice dessert.

Because I was no longer drinking alcohol, my biggest dilemma was what I should drink. So I bought fizzy grape juice — like wine but without the alcohol. Every time I felt my anxieties rise about the big day, I told myself: "It's only a day, and it will be over before you know it."

What surprised me was that no one really asked me what I was doing for Christmas, which actually made it easier. In previous years, before my epic relapse, I was invited to my friend's house. His mother would come over from Paris; he'd cook pheasant and all the trimmings. However, this year, he and his mother were going to Switzerland for a skiing trip, leaving me out in the cold.

In my teens and 20s, I would go to my dad's place, which often involved him being drunk and passing out in the afternoon. This was not something I wanted to do, and it only served as a reminder of why I needed to stay sober.

Christmas can be anything you want

I realized that there was no "right way" to do Christmas. That was where a lot of the pressure came from — the traditions, the presents, the goodwill, and the expectations that come with it.

On the big day itself, I decided to do exactly what I wanted to do. I'd earned it after all the work I'd put into my sobriety the previous few weeks. I cooked my roast chicken with unconventional herbs and spices and had my gluten-free dessert and sparkling grape juice. I allowed myself to watch trash TV, which reminded me why I never habitually watched anything.

Unlike Christmases gone by, I didn't have to get up to go anywhere or even get dressed. Knowing there were no people involved eased my anxieties. There were no awkward conversations around the dinner table with relatives I only see at Christmas, big birthdays, or funerals. Nor did I have to down a bottle of wine to ensure there was enough alcohol in my system to get me through the day. This was my Christmas, and I did it my way. It turned out to be bliss.

Many people think the idea of spending Christmas on their own sounds lonely and unappealing. For me, spending Christmas alone is about taking responsibility. The alternative is that I would re-expose myself to triggers that contributed to my complex PTSD, which underpinned my alcohol addiction.

Now approaching my sixth sober solo Christmas, I'm looking forward to it.

• I am a single mom and allowed my son a lot of independence growing up.
• I was leaving him home alone when he was 7. By his tweens, he was navigating the city on his own.
• My parenting may be unconventional but it worked because of how I raised him at a young age.

I wanted my kid to have many of the same freedoms I had growing up in the '80s in the country — full of tree climbing, go-cart driving, and playing outside until the lights came on. My parents were relatively carefree and let us roam with minimal supervision, as long as our chores were done.

By the time my baby boy was 18 months old, I was a working single mother in the city and his sole provider, which meant my approach to parenting was going to take a different direction than I had imagined.

I didn't have the luxury of a partner for help, so I was constantly on duty. In order to coexist peacefully, I needed my son's cooperation, especially since he had a fierce need for independence at a young age.

I let him problem-solve, which sometimes led to a skinned knee

Cooperation required clear, age-appropriate communication of my expectations for him and his capabilities.

When he was 2, he was one of the youngest in our local park to climb the Jacob's Ladder. When he would get stuck at the top, I would explain to him that if he could get to the top by himself, he had to be able to get down by himself, too.

He soon became aware of his limitations and strengths. He would occasionally fall and skin his knee or the palm of his hand, but this never deterred him from going back for another climbing round.

Just because he got scuffed up a bit didn't mean I wasn't diligent about paying attention to him — I just let him problem-solve on his own through gentle encouragement and minimal interference.

With this approach, I successfully kept him out of the ER despite multiple spills off his skateboard and jumping from the top of the jungle gym.

The day I'll never forget

While I encouraged him to be independent and self-confident, I still felt the need to keep him close when he was a child.

That's why I'll never forget the day when he was 7 and ventured to his friend's home alone without telling me.

He scootered down one of the busiest streets in the city and crossed a huge intersection to get there.

I thought he was in our condo complex riding his scooter. When he called me 30 minutes later to tell me he was at his friend's house, I asked him why he hadn't told me where he was going.

He said it was because he knew I wouldn't have let him go alone. He was right.

Then he added that I'd taught him how to push the crosswalk button and he knew what he was doing. It dawned on me that he was also right about that.

That day, my trust in his abilities grew exponentially. I began letting him stay home while I ran errands.

By his tween years, he was confidently navigating the city bus system and biking across town — activities none of his friends were doing.

Other parents often questioned my free-range parenting approach, but I wasn't concerned. We had a reliable check-in system, and I trusted him completely.

I set clear boundaries and delivered consequences if he broke the rules, like if he didn't call me as soon as he arrived somewhere, he wasn't allowed to go again.

I don't regret how I raised my son

My style might have been unconventional, but now, at 19, he's still marching to the beat of his own drum and we have a strong and trusting relationship.

Watching him fly the coop with the tools and confidence I instilled is one of the greatest achievements of my life, and I can't wait to see where the next 20 years will take him.