Enjoying the Season

December has arrived. Quite how it is here already when it was May just last week (!), I’m not sure, but here it is nonetheless. Temperatures are warming. I sat out in a vineyard having lunch recently, and on a deck at a beach that evening. It would have been my father’s 94^th birthday yesterday, but he has been gone now 17 years already. His birthday always makes me remember my first ectopic pregnancy. In the space of a week or so, I suspected I was [pregnant, tested positive, had some bleeding, and was sent to the hospital. As with many early ectopics, it then took about six weeks to diagnose definitively and then to resolve, with ongoing treatment. My second ectopic was the following year, and a few weeks later, but took about six months to resolve. The beginning of December is, for me, the beginning of ectopic season. So inevitably, when I’m happy that summer is arriving, and the windows are open and I can hear the birds singing or Christmas music, or see the first red blooms of pohutukawa, I might feel a little flicker reminding me of the grief I felt 20 and 21 years ago at this time. And the years that it took to recover. Now, I remember, but I don’t really feel the grief. I’ve grieved, but I choose not to torture myself by remembering how that felt, by letting myself feel that again, or by focusing on what I lost.

Twelve years ago, in the first weeks of No Kidding in NZ, I wrote about Reclaiming Christmas. I still believe we can all do this if we want to. Everyone can enjoy Christmas or any other special holidays they choose to celebrate. These days are not just for children – if we’re lucky, we all have magical memories of past years that we want to honour, or perhaps we want to create new memories, and there’s no timeline on what age you need to be to do that. One of my favourite reclaiming traditions is very simple. It is insisting I don’t get out of bed too early (can you guess I’m not a morning person?), and enjoying a simple breakfast of croissants and orange juice with my husband. Maybe one year we’ll go to Paris for Christmas and do it properly!

I put my tree up yesterday – it is early for me, but I decided to do so while I have a visitor in the house, and because I remember taking it down last time (only two weeks ago, it feels like) with regret that it was up for such a short time. Enjoyment of my tree is one of the key parts of my celebration. Who cares that no children will see the tree this year? I’ll see it! Friends will see it. I remember each of the decorations, where I bought them (Florence, Talinn, Bergen, London, Manila, Bangkok, etc) or who gave them to me (my nephew, my fellow childless Christmas-tree-loving friend, my sister, a friend, etc). I have a couple that always make me think of my Christmas babies that didn’t make it too.

I need to do some Christmas shopping this week, and – as long as I am not under pressure – I usually enjoy this. We’re also going to take a few days out to personally deliver some gifts rather than post them. December is one of my favourite times of the year to travel in New Zealand, so that should be fun. We’re going to catch up with friends just before Christmas at a favourite restaurant, I always do a baking exchange with another friend, and we have plans to meet up with others afterwards.

The whole present-giving part of Christmas is not a big deal for me. I like giving gifts, but don’t go over-board. I receive one or two gifts, and I appreciate them, but they’re never the focus of the day for me. My husband and I rarely exchange gifts. If we do, they’re often little surprises. Expectations are low, and I’m happy about that. I can’t be disappointed! Besides, our presents to each other are the trips we take together, and we know how much they cost!

If there’s one thing I dislike about Christmas (or other big holidays), it is the huge fanfare and anticipation for what is really just one day, perhaps even just one meal! Such energy, expense, effort, and angst for such a short day! I’m going to enjoy each of the lead-up activities, whether it is baking, shopping for our meal, seeing friends, delivering gifts, or just rejoicing in the lack of pressure. That way, I can find the whole process enjoyable. And I can eliminate anticipation and stress that might otherwise be unpleasant.

As for the actual day, even though we are going to spend it alone this year, I’m looking forward to a relaxed day, making the food we like, choosing a special wine, eating some of those treats I've made in advance (the berry mince baclava my friend made last year will be high on that list), having a peaceful day, maybe watching some corny movies, or weather permitting, taking a walk along a beach. Enjoying a peaceful drink on the deck with the birds. Hopefully we’ll get to do it all.

And, as I always say, in a flash the day will be over! The next day, life will be back to normal, and we will be looking forward to and enjoying the summer, to the New Year, and to the adventures of 2023. With the added benefit of yummy leftovers!

I hope you are able to look forward to the season this year, rather than dread it. Breathe deeply. Focus on what you love. Don't torture yourself with what-ifs. It does get easier, I promise.

Pros and cons of a childless Easter

First, the pros:

I got to sleep in. 

I didn't have to amuse children, go out in crowds, dread the coming school holidays (which started here on Friday).

I didn't have to buy a lot of chocolate, especially not the cheaper Cadbury's chocolate that flooded our supermarkets but isn't certified from non-child-labour sources.

We bought bakery hot cross buns (my baking attempt failed - I'm blaming the recipe) which probably wouldn't be to the taste of children.

We had an lovely meal on Easter Sunday at our leisure, and a bottle of excellent wine.

We watched adult (not adult-themed!) TV.

It was exceptionally peaceful, especially today, after a disrupted night, a morning when I felt unwell, so I could spend a day on the couch reading.

The weather was gorgeous, and we could do what we want.

But there are cons:

It's often a family time, with people travelling to see their families, or getting together locally. But it's too far to go to see my family in the South island, and my sister in the north visited last year and was spending it with friends and their families this year. So it can be lonely when you're the only ones you know without immediate family nearby.

It's easier to hide the loneliness by staying at home than by going out, so we hibernated, despite the gorgeous weather.

I made my own Easter Eggs (having first made them over the first pandemic lockdown two years ago), and have now mastered the recipe. But there was no-one to share them with. (Okay, to be honest, I could have and would have shared them with the neighbour and his little girl, but there weren't enough to go round!)

But that's life. I'm sure there are people with families who would have liked to have our peaceful, low-calorie weekend! So I'm sticking with the pros.

Some seasonal thoughts

I was going to start a campaign in today’s blog, but Jess beat me to it, by getting a publisher to change an image of a pregnant woman to highlight an article about fabulous No Kidding women embracing their lives. Go read her story on her blog – and a link to the article – here. So instead, I've turned my thoughts to December, and what it brings.

There has been quite a bit of activity around the place about dealing with the holidays when we have no children. Gateway Women have highlighted a conversation about reclaiming a childless holiday and Infertile Phoenix has reviewed it here, and has talked about following the advice she heard there.

I’ve written and talked about reclaiming Christmas (which is the prevalent holiday here in NZ, but applies to any holiday) for over a decade, and was interviewed about it a few years ago here, though to my disappointment, the phrase was edited out of the article. The journalist was most put out, as she really liked my approach, and wanted to emphasise that Christmas (in this case) is for all of us. I’ve joked recently that I should have trademarked the phrase “reclaiming Christmas!” But really, I’m just glad to see that it is reaching new people, and that they are all finding strength from the idea.

I’ve written about it before in these posts, as well as other issues around this difficult season:

Reclaiming Christmas – written back in December 2010, only my second month of blogging (though my seventh year of No Kidding Christmases)

Holiday Season: If Money were No Object 

You are Not Alone

Childless at Christmas

My 2016 Annual Holiday Post

Four Rules of Surviving Christmas for No Kidding women

The Season and Traditions

This year, Christmas is going to be low key. Our second Christmas without either my parents or my husband’s parents still feels a little weird, as we are so used to having others to care for at this time of year. But it means I have to follow my own advice. And so, I have my tree up already in honour of hosting some friends last week, and I have enjoyed doing the very limited amount of gift shopping that I need to do this year. (With two family birthdays on the 20^th, I almost have to do as much birthday shopping as Christmas shopping!) I just have to pick up a book for someone, and something for my niece. Actually, that last item will be the most difficult! But at least I’ll get to deliver it personally. And lastly, I’m planning to do my Christmas baking this week. I usually make mini mince pies, and will do that, as they are little mouthfuls of scrumminess. But one of my friend’s brought a fruit mince baclava on Thursday and it was so good, I’m stealing the idea and will make some to take to my sister’s house, and to give to an aged uncle-in-law, and some friends who are probably tired of getting the mince pies. Neither my husband nor I are into big Christmas presents, so the emphasis is on food and relaxation.

In fact, this time of year, I like to focus on:

• My tree and all my ornaments collected from all over the world that I love dearly.
• Food traditions – old, and new, experiments successful or not.
• Compassion for others who might feel alone and sad at this time of year.
• The coming summer shut-down that occurs this time every year in NZ, and brings a very relaxed sense to the season.
• Summer food and drink!
  
• A very low-key and casual Wellington, a government city that empties out as the workers all go to the beach or the bush for a few weeks over Christmas and the New Year.
• The year gone and the year to come, forever hopeful that it will be better.
• Celebrating relationships in person, online, and on zoom.
  

That is not to say it’s all fine. Twenty years later, December is filled with memories of positive pregnancy tests, losses, hospital treatment for ectopic pregnancies, and disappointment. They usually pass quickly for me now, or hover without much pain, watching me navigate the month. I like to honour those little sparks of life who never made it here, but who helped make me who I am today. The best way I can do that is to embrace the life I have now, and live a good life. I know so many of you are doing this, and are shining the light for others. I hope that will be the case for you all.

 

A No Kidding Holiday*

 Well, we had such a lovely time away on our trip, I missed posting last Monday! I wasn't organised enough to have pre-scheduled posts already written, so I just let it slide. Although I feel kinda naughty saying that, it also felt good to let the Monday drift by!

I often assess my trips here, noting if there were any instances that made me feel childLESS rather than childFREE. I am wondering if that is healthy, even while I bristle slightly at a conversation at my sister's place. A friend of hers had visited, and she (the friend) made one of those all-sweeping comments about having or dealing with children "as we all do." I bristled, but I bit my tongue. I wasn't really part of the conversation, and I was in my sister's house, so I restrained myself. You should be proud of me, because I didn't even roll my eyes. (That took considerable self-discipline!) It just wasn't the time or the place.

I wish I didn't have to consider the time or place to point out the inherent bias in these comments. I wish people just thought a little more before uttering these asides. After all, she's been a long-term friend of my sister, and certainly will know my history, or at the very least, the fact we don't have children, and that it was not our choice. It felt (vaguely, and perhaps just in my imagination) ever so slightly deliberate. It wasn't necessary to the sentence. And there was a hesitation before she said it, speaking almost defensively. Standing the ground of the parented, perhaps? Or wanting to be sensitive, but realising she'd already started the sentence? I don't know. It doesn't really matter. But it is funny how tiny little things can stay with us.

On the bright side though, we had a lovely trip which would simply not have been possible at this time of the year with children, even children in their mid-late teens, as our ectopic babies would be by now. There would be exams, and end-of-year functions, and summer sport. But we took advantage of the clearer roads and destinations between October school holidays and the summer holidays which start in mid-December. It was bliss. I'm not kidding.

* Holiday = vacation

My 2016 annual holiday post

Every year, I like to post about the holiday season that is practically on top of us already. I'm not sure I have anything new to say this year, so I thought I'd link to some of my previous posts.

Six years ago, I wrote my first post about Christmas (or another holiday) without children, and talked about my practice of reclaiming Christmas. I wrote,

But understanding the grief that we won't ever celebrate Christmas with our own children doesn't mean that Christmas has to be lost to us.  If it was important to you before children, it can be important to you afterwards.  It might not be what you always wanted, but let's face it, what in life is exactly as we had envisaged it, or just how we always wanted?  And so I stamp my feet a little, and say "Christmas is NOT just for children.  It's for all of us, to make our own."

I still feel that way, but would simply perhaps add, "if we wish." Because there's nothing wrong with not wanting to celebrate anything at this time of year, or choosing to celebrate life with friends or partners or even simply with yourself.

In 2011, I was staying at my mother's house in the south, and we were spending a quiet Christmas morning, and I was at peace, and hoping all you were at peace too.

In 2012, I remembered Decembers in the past that had been exceedingly painful, and delighted that the pohutukawa trees that previously always brought back memories of that time now brought me joy in their blooms.

In 2013, I wrote three posts inspired by the season. In the first, I caught myself when I felt a little jealous of a friend, and reminded myself that someone else's happiness does not affect my own. In the second, I talked about including childless relatives. And in the third, I reminded myself and us all that we are not alone.

In 2014, I wrote about my ideal holiday if money were no object, and what we actually to do in the real world.


Last year, I was relaxed on Christmas Eve, feeling a little melancholy, but about other things rather than about being childless and alone on Christmas.

This year I feel much the same - a bit (though not badly) melancholy. It's the first Christmas without my mother, and I feel sad about her last few years. Neither my husband nor I have any confirmed work for next year, so I feel uncertainty and a small degree of fear. I can't look back on 2016 with any satisfaction, other than simply (so far) surviving it. I feel a bit lonely too, as none of the overseas relatives are returning home this Christmas, the sons having rushed home when FIL had two heart attacks in April. Of course, I have just been at a celebration in the south with my family, so I can't complain about not seeing my sisters or nieces or great-nephew. Still, friends also tend to leave town at Christmas, going places with family or staying in the country or at the beach - anywhere where the weather is better - and so here there'll be just be us and some elderly relatives. And have I mentioned that this year I don't even get to control the Christmas menu? I have hardly even had any Christmas shopping to do, and although I sometimes find it stressful, I also find it very satisfying, and enjoy being able to buy gifts for people in my life.

However, it's not all doom and gloom. I'm going to do some Christmas baking soon, and will give that as gifts. My Christmas tree is up, and looks great. I'll arrange to catch up with the friend who is going to be remaining in town, and perhaps we'll do some overnight visits to other friends. I think I'll do a meal of our favourite things, just for my husband and I, on Christmas Eve, to make up for not choosing the menu on Christmas Day. And I have had a wonderful offer of accommodation somewhere exotic for Christmas 2017, so I can start thinking about if we can afford that, or at least do it cheaply. Enjoying and making the most of what I have - this is what I mean about reclaiming Christmas.

Besides, by this time next week it will be a distant memory, and I can focus on going on summer walks and picnics and playing with my camera outside, and having some friends over for barbecues, and fixing our house, and enjoying the summer, and maybe planning a road trip to visit my sister up north, and planning an international trip in May, and maybe getting a project finished that has been on hold all year, and maybe kicking off a small business that I don't expect will ever make much money, as long as it will make enough to make a few things tax deductible, and thinking about the New Year always makes me feel a little enthusiastic about the unknown opportunities that might come to us, allowing me to wipe the slate clean.

It seems that I did have some things to say after all.

Childless at Christmas

It is late afternoon on a sunny Christmas Eve, my meringues (not the best I've made, but adequate) are cooling on the rack, and the last batch of mini mince pies (having eaten/given away most of the first batch) is ready to go in the oven. So I'm able to take some time, and think of my blogging friends and readers.

This season is not always easy for those of us without children. I've had two pregnancy losses on successive Christmases, and the next year was the first Christmas after learning, only two months earlier, that we would never have children. That first Christmas, we had a very quiet Christmas with my parents and in-laws, but no siblings and no children. The year after, we escaped to Europe, and so it didn't feel like Christmas, even though we celebrated with my BIL, SIL and niece and nephew. It was an excellent thing to do, because by the next year, two years on, the pain had receded a little, and I could handle a big family Christmas. The fact my father had died that year meant that I was more concerned about my mother being alone, than I was about myself.

These days, I love the big family Christmases. We alternate between my family and my husband's family. Some years we go south and celebrate  Christmas with my sister and her grown-up daughters, and even my cheeky great-nephew (who loves to call me "Great Aunty <Mali>"), and sometimes my other sister and her husband and my niece, Charlie. I love that. Other years we stay here at home, sometimes just with my in-laws and perhaps my husband's childless aunt and uncle, sometimes with one or more of his brothers and their families as well. I love that too, as we don't get to see them very often. This year, it will be quiet, and when I have thought about that, I've been a bit melancholy.

But when I think about it, I'm more melancholy about other things that are happening (or not happening) in my life and family, than I am about not having children at Christmas. Most years it doesn't bother me much any more. But I admit, I do have to make that qualifier, I can't say it never bothers me. It does. For example, I feel sad that I don't have a child who loves my Christmas tree decorations as much as I do. But then, I might have had a child who didn't care! Or who had completely different taste. I visited a friend this morning, dropping off a card and some of my mince pies. She's also childless, and also loves travelling. I looked at her tree, and told her that, after mine, I love her tree the best. We looked at some of her new decorations, some bought on recent travels, all with significance to her and her partner. And it made both of us happy.

This afternoon, as I cooked in the kitchen, I listened to our national radio (as I do almost every afternoon). They were having a Christmas Eve round-up of the year with all the panel guests from the year, and one man noted that this was the first year all his children were living overseas. He had no idea when or if they would ever return to New Zealand to live. My in-laws only have us, and the childless aunt and uncle rely on nieces and nephews. It reminded me that those of us without children are not the only ones who might feel lonely at Christmas. I listened to a carol being sung, that insisted on everyone showing "good cheer." And I felt angry, that this is seen to be compulsory, when so many might not feel this way. (Ironic, given that my Christmas card this year exhorts us all to "Be Merry.")

By Saturday, in just over 24 hours (for me), it will all be over for another year. As I wrote some time ago, on Mel's annual Christmas Survival list, it is really just one day. It doesn't have any power over us. We can enjoy it or not, and move on. That's what I intend to do.

Now though, as I've taken the final mince pies out of the oven, and as I sip a glass of cool white chardonnay, I can contemplate instead the next week or two we have of catching up with friends (first, at the beach, and then, in a vineyard), relaxing and reading books (I have two books to complete to meet my Goodreads challenge for this year), maybe some picnics, and hopefully some nice summer weather. My spirit rises.

Rather than insisting that we all feel "good cheer," instead my wish for you all, for us all, is that we find peace in our hearts, love with partners, friends or family, and renewed hope for the future.

The childless woman's guide to surviving school holidays

 Late September/early October sees school holidays come around again here in New Zealand. In my No Kidding life, this can creep up on me. Suddenly, I'm assailed by people and noise. Though I can tolerate people and children and noise, if I don't have to, I prefer to avoid them. After all, I am accustomed to a much more peaceful environment! Besides, even though the sight of children does not upset me these days, being surrounded by boisterous families can make me feel isolated, and I prefer to flee home or to a favourite, safe environment. I am fully aware that frazzled parents can't do this, and face many more challenges to surviving school holidays. Still, this isn't a blog that addresses their issues - it addresses mine. So here are my tips to surviving school holidays relatively stress free.

1. Don’t travel. The planes, trains, ferries, roads, and airports will be clogged with families on holiday, accommodation will be harder to find, and prices will be higher.


2. Stay in Wellington and drive to work. There’s no traffic  – the streets are clear in the morning, travel times are dramatically reduced – through a combination of parents not driving their children to school in the mornings, and the absence of parents as they take a week or more off work to get out of town with their kids.


3. Go to the gym. Unless it has playgrounds or childcare facilities, it will be empty. Even the spinning class was cancelled this week due to lack of interest.


4. Avoid the Malls and cinemas and museums (especially Te Papa), like the plague.


5. If you must go to the movies, then go to Lighthouse cinemas, or the Penthouse, or another of the boutique, art house style theatres. Do not go to see a blockbuster in the middle of the day -  you will regret it! I'm sure you can wait two weeks to see it.


6. Choose your coffee venues carefully. The CBD is usually a safe bet, but beware that in the holidays, there will be families and children in town. Think about the nature of the café and its surrounding environment. Miramar’s new Park Kitchen is sleek and modern, and was quiet late last week. The entire Khandallah Village was empty this morning – the usual yoga mums are all off ski-ing or in the Pacific, the nannies have the week off, and the café was peaceful. However, I doubt it was the same just down the road at the more child-friendly Ngaio café. Beach Babylon in Oriental Bay never has many children, and didn’t this week either, but I didn’t even attempt to go to the Tugboat Café, just a few hundred metres up the road, situated as it is next to a small sheltered beach and playground.


7. Go get a massage or facial or both. Serenity guaranteed.


8. Alcohol. Go out for a drink instead of a coffee or lunch, revelling in your freedom, and making the most of these lighter evenings.


9. But if you have a visit from an out-of-town child, disregard all the advice above, and head to the zoos, malls, cinemas, Te Papa, and cafés with playgrounds, bake cupcakes and build forts inside or out, play “spot the tui,” and have your first ice-cream of the season. And enjoy!


10. Don’t feel guilty that you can enjoy your peace and serenity, whether it’s the less stressful commute to town, or the quiet café, or the calm, quiet house after guests have gone. 

Please feel free to add your own tips in the comments!

Holiday season: If money were no object

December holidays are often dreaded by those of us who are going through infertility, or who are living without children. I know those who are without partners, or who have lost loved ones over the year, will find it hard too. I am thinking of a niece of mine, whose partner suddenly died several months ago. Christmas will be tough for her this year.

Over the years, in the face of the “the season is all about the kids/family” refrains, we try to find a way to celebrate this time that keeps it important or meaningful for us. I was about to write a post about this, then realised that my “own” routines aren’t very exciting. Then along comes an email with a blog prompt to “describe how you would celebrate the holidays if it was totally up to you and money was not a factor.” Now that’s my kind of challenge! Though I think I’ll through in my preferred Christmas Day here at home too.

When we stay home for Christmas/New Year, it is easier of course for me to make the season my own. I get to put up my tree, choose what food we have, the timing, etc. I guess it just means I have control, and that is perhaps what makes the day and the season better for me. Perhaps that’s what is so hard for many of us who have been through infertility. We lose control in such a major aspect of our lives, and then find ourselves thrust into child-centric celebrations by family members who don’t always understand (or want to understand) again without control. So perhaps, retaining a bit of control over the day or the season is important.

At home, I like to:

1. sleep in, because we can!
2. have a simple but special breakfast (just croissants, but we don’t do it other times of the year), and it means we can sit down to breakfast together, and have a moment to breathe and appreciate our lives
3. make my yummy tiny mince pies
4. admire my tree, and refrain from kitchy decorations all over the house
5. choose what music we listen to (whilst I quite like Christmas carols, I don’t want to have to listen to them all day)
6. cook what I want to eat (even when we have family in town, I get to control the menu, and that’s fine by me!) which is usually baked ham, but might be seafood, lots of salads, the last asparagus of the season, and will always involve berries, etc,
7. take time to relax with some champagne and smoked salmon before the chaos of the big meal, preferably outside on a lovely sunny day
8. eat adult food, and keep it simple but elegant
9. send all the relatives away, and spend a quiet evening with my husband, basking in the peace, and
10. maybe chocolate will be involved somehow too.

The days between Christmas and New Year would be spent sleeping and reading and entertaining friends on our deck and having barbecues on theirs, visiting the vineyards and drinking wine in another friend's olive grove, heading out for a picnic to enjoy the summer and relax under a tree with a good book, and maybe at some stage I might stick my toes in the sea. A simple New Zealand summer.

We alternate spending Christmas here in Wellington, where we live and where the in-laws live (and where the overseas relatives base themselves if they are returning for Christmas), and  - as we are doing this year - in the South Island with my mother, and my sister (who lives nearby) and her family and now two of the nieces have moved back to the region, and my other sister (and husband and Charlie) will be there too. It’ll be a nice family Christmas, but it’s not the same when I don’t get to have Christmas My Way. (I know, I sound like a control freak!) This year, because my mother’s ill, it won’t be a carefree relaxing time, even though it will be nice to make the time special for her. Maybe that’s why I am struggling to feel enthusiastic about what is usually a favourite time of the year. Or the fact that it is dismal and raining outside, not at all summery! Still, there are a few weeks yet for December to work its magic on me.

But every few years, we take off overseas. We first did this 19 years ago, renting a red Mustang convertible and driving around Oahu on Christmas Day, and then again when we were still coming to terms with our no kidding life and needed to escape, spending it in Europe in search of a White Christmas. Sometimes we stay with family, sometimes we do our own thing. If money were no object? Oh, the decisions the decisions! The European White Christmas idea didn't deliver snow, so maybe I’d head to North America – Quebec City is wonderfully romantic, and would probably have snow. We could stay in a hotel with thick stone walls and a roaring fire, and wander the streets all wrapped up. And head down to New York City for New Year. Via Toronto and Vermont, to visit some friends of course. Then I’d finish up with a week on a beach somewhere – Florida perhaps where there are more friends, but I keep forgetting that money is no object, so maybe I’d shout them a trip to the Caribbean. I’ve always wanted to go to the Caribbean.

If the Husband put his foot down and insisted that we avoid the snow, then we’d probably have to look in the southern hemisphere. We’ve spent a number of Christmases or New Years in southeast Asia – on a beach in Thailand or Malaysia – and that is always enjoyable. (Asian food, endless massages, sun, sea, and sand – aah bliss). But I keep forgetting that money is no object, so I’d probably return to my happy place, South Africa. Christmas out in the bush, at a luxury lodge with champagne and great South African wine and massages (and no kids) and mid-day naps, and early mornings and evenings communing with giraffes and zebras and lions and leopards and warthogs and hyenas and rhinos, and enjoying the big skies of Africa. That would be the ideal way to spend the holidays. (If money were truly no object, I might pick a few favourite people to come with us.)

How would you spend the holiday season if money were no object?