For the mothers who make every day a little bit like Christmas

BarcelonaBeing a mother is never easy, and I think things get even more complicated at Christmas. I'm so grateful my youngest is already ten, and I've been spared a lot of things, like having a mischievous elf in the house who thinks up a new prank every morning. Social media is full of pictures of this elf, and I can only breathe a sigh of relief that this trend hasn't caught on with me. How many more imported traditions will we have to adopt? We've never even made activity Advent calendars at home (does that mean our children know what the term means?). AdventAnd fewer of those calendars where there's a gift every day. That said, I admit I followed the new tradition of going to the mountains to find the Tió, and look, maybe it wasn't necessary. When I was little, the Tió knew perfectly well how to get home on its own, and on Christmas Eve it would appear very dignified in the dining room and retire the next day. Job done. So, if you haven't gone out to search for the Tió with a map, don't worry: it will find its way, just as it always has. Perhaps we're also overprotecting the Tió and don't trust its autonomy enough.

I'm convinced that it's mothers who make Christmas beautiful, and thanks to them, many of us have accumulated wonderful memories of this time of year. They're the ones who spend countless hours standing by the stove so the rest of us can enjoy ourselves sitting at the table. Mothers who, these days, spend hours roasting meat to fill each cannelloni with the utmost care. Pots of broth simmering for days on end, filling the kitchen with that familiar aroma. Dishes that comfort us, that taste like home, and that any Michelin-starred chef wants to try to recapture in every bite. They've never received the gastronomic recognition they deserve, even though now the main goal of any good restaurant is to get as close, even just a little, to their recipes.

Less is more

Getting everything ready for the holidays can be exhausting, and I realize that sometimes we mothers today take on more work than we should. Things used to be simpler, weren't they? My uncle boomer He'd poop politically incorrect things, like chocolate cigarettes, and I think it was much more believable that he'd only get sweets than toys that were bigger than him. Santa Claus didn't come to our house, my parents didn't do Secret Santa with people from work, and there weren't any snowman-shaped canapés on the table. Everything was more familiar, more normal, more ours, and simpler. One day at school, I asked my students about their Christmas holidays and what they had done during those days, and one answer stuck with me: "I didn't do anything, but I had a great time." He said it with a forcefulness and sincerity that I always remember, and it's my Christmas motto: less is more.

I confess that Christmas is less Christmas this year. now that my mother is goneI'm less inclined to celebrate, and I really miss seeing her eat in her apron, making everything look so easy. I think we're never truly ready to take over and be the ones in charge of everything, and I'm not just talking about the holidays. I realize that these days I'm starting to feel a certain nostalgia, and I don't want to think about the emptiness in my dining room. What a contradiction, Christmas: the joy it brings to children and the pang we feel as we get older.

I sincerely wish you that this Christmas is as normal as possible, that you play imposter with your children, that you look again Love actually And if your mothers (and grandmothers) are still around, may they give you a big hug, aprons on. This is for them, for our mothers, the ones who make every day feel a little like Christmas.