12/22/2024

Dear Diary,

Today is December 22nd, and in three days, it’ll be Christmas. What a mess. I know, I shouldn’t say that—I should spread positivity—but it’s not always possible. This is the second year I’ll be spending Christmas away from my kids, and without the little one (Riccardo), and honestly, it’s devastating.

I’m the kind of person who usually puts up the tree in November, but this year, I would’ve left it packed away. The only reason it’s up is because my son really wanted to do it. So now, I have this giant tree in the living room, decorated only up to the height of a five-year-old, with lights I never turn on—unless I’m out late. In that case, I switch them on remotely, just so the dog isn’t left in the dark. 🤣 (Yes, I’m a boomer, and I use emojis).

Every year at Christmas, it’s the same story with my kids. Mirko says he wants to go to Naples to visit his grandparents. My daughter, who I’ll call Gina even though her name is Jennifer (a name she hates and has changed to Ellen), insists on spending Christmas Eve with friends and Christmas Day at Anna’s because it’s “more fun” there. Imagine what a crappy mom I must be… Every year, it’s a battle to have them together, with my husband reminding me: “Your kids could make the effort to be with you, after everything you’ve done for them.”

So, it should be a win for everyone, right? They don’t feel guilty for not wanting to be with me, I don’t feel humiliated, and my husband doesn’t get upset over my disappointment. But no. I just wish they’d take a flight to come here or that I could fly to them, even for just one day, to be together. But it’s not possible.

The truth is, I miss the Christmases of the past: thirty people packed into a house, with sometimes overwhelming relatives, a haze of smoke in the room, and an overly dramatic aunt or two. I want to recreate those moments, even if it takes effort from everyone. These days, it feels like we’re bombarded with the idea of “honoring ourselves” and not tolerating anything anymore. But honestly, sometimes all it takes is saying: “This hurts me, could you stop doing it?” And maybe the answer wouldn’t be so bad.

Anyway, I digress. This Christmas will be tough, but I’ll do everything I can to make the next one better. I’ve had worse Christmases, so I’ll fight to create something different.

If you’re a son or daughter reading this, know that moms hurt more than they let on. Sometimes, all it takes to make them happy is a little effort.

To myself, as a mom, I say: Remember when you were young, and you only cared about your own happiness. You didn’t mean to hurt anyone; you were just focused on yourself. They’ll grow up, and if you’ve done a good job, they’ll understand.

Anto