5 Christmas Movies I Have to Watch Every Year

Christmas. You feel it in the air, right? The faint scent of peppermint, cinnamon, and pine trees everywhere, the crowds of people at the mall, the Christmas tree posts on Instagram. 

I don't make any excuses: I'm obsessed with Christmas. And Christmas movies, specifically. 

Rituals are very important to me. I resist to call them "traditions" because traditions suggests a cultural relevance--and my habits are highly individual, especially when it comes to Christmas movies. 

There are five movies that I have to watch every single year to mark the Christmas season. If I don't get them in (like last year), it almost feels like Christmas didn't happen. Am I the only one? 

Anyway, here are my five favorites: 

1. The Santa Clause

"The Santa Clause" is one of those movies that I loved as a kid and I still love as an adult. I also recently found out that a significant number of people believe Claus is actually spelled with an "e" and don't realize the title is a pun. Oops. Watching it these days, I totally see Scott's side of everything--and find myself even more bewildered by Charlie's mom and Neil. It's such a great movie: simple, heartwarming, and featuring some of the best, goofiest, 1990s-era jokes and effects. 

2. The Polar Express

Pretend for a moment that this movie doesn't have that weird, hyper-Christian undertone. Ok, now I love it. I just ignore all that part. It's a beautiful movie (even with the uncanny valley effect) and has some amazing songs and moments. I always find myself wishing to know more about all the other kids on the train and I wish more of the movie was spent in the actual North Pole, because the buildings, elf workshops, and square are just beautiful. 

3. The Muppet Christmas Carol

Every year as a kid, I looked forward to watching "the Muppet Christmas Carol" on TV. It was the best part of the holidays. I still love this movie. When I finally got a DVD copy a few years ago, I had to order it from Hong Kong. Now, you can find it in Target almost every year. It's totally worth owning because I like to watch it every single Christmas eve. It's the perfect goofy, fun movie. 

4. Love Actually

I know there are some critics out there who argue that "Love Actually" is not, actually, a very good movie. Here's the thing though: they're wrong. Is it problematic in some ways? Oh, sure. But does that take away from my enjoyment of it as a Christmas movie? No. Because every single time Emma Thompson turns on that Joni Mitchell CD and cries in her bedroom, I cry like an infant whose been left behind. It's a breathtaking scene and any criticism of the film is redeemed in that moment. Because Emma Thompson is queen. 

5. the Nightmare Before Christmas

Is it a Halloween movie? Or a Christmas movie? That's the question. I like to think it's both. It's a movie that's perfect for the run up to the Christmas season--for that time between Thanksgiving and Christmas when it's still Fall, but you want to get excited about Christmas. All I know is, it was one of my favorite movies growing up and it's still one of my favorites now. And it's not Christmas until I've watched it. 

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What are your favorite Christmas movies? 

Oh, and while you're at it, sign up for my new newsletter! I'll be sending out the first edition on Wednesday, December 14--and then every other Wednesday after that. 

Why We Decided to Put a Strict Limit on Christmas Gifts

Every year when I was little, the same thing happened. Every Christmas Eve, my family would gather either at our house or my grandmother's house. And every year, as the clock ticked closer to 7pm, my siblings and I would find ourselves sitting next to stacks of gifts. If we were at our house, we would be in the family room, the room with the fireplace and the tree, the best furniture. We would pick a spot and divvy up the gifts, which would often be dragged into the house by my grandmother and grandfather in giant, black trash bags. 

My grandmother was one of "those people." You know the ones. The ones who just can't not buy a gift. 

We got things we wanted, sometimes. We got sweatshirts and toys that featured our favorite characters, art supplies or computer games. But we got plenty of things we didn't want either. Things we didn't need. Junk piled up in our rooms until summer came and we took it to Goodwill. A continuous cycle, over and over and over again. 

As I got older, we decided, as a family, to stop it. To stop the gift thing. We do a small gift exchange every year--no more than one or two gifts each, if that--but that's it. For a few years, we have tried to do just Tree of Joy gifts: we would all go to the mall and choose an ornament featuring the want or need of a foster child in the area, aged from 0 to 18. In lieu of gifts to each other, I try to make sure we all give to someone who really needs it. 

I still remember the anxiety of that pile of gifts. I hated clutter, even as a kid, but found myself inexplicably acquiring things that piled up and up and up. Boxes for computer games, books and journals, notebooks and pens and electronics. It stressed me out, even as a young teenager. 

When Forrest was born, Danny and I had to decide what we wanted our Christmas to be like. We could make Christmas an affair based on gifts, based on buying and giving and receiving. Or we could make Christmas about the spirit: hot cocoa and a clean house, warm blankets and a pretty tree, driving together at night to look at lights, giving to those less fortunate, baking cookies and watching our favorite movies. 

Which one would you choose?

It was this Christmas that I proposed that we limit ourselves to one gift each and stocking stuffers. 

That means, I only get Danny one gift. Danny only gets me one gift. And we only get Forrest one gift. We fill stockings; we wrap one gift. When Forrest is older, that one big gift will be from "Santa"--until he's old enough to know that, you know, Santa is us. We set a spending limit. We use the time we would have spent shopping and wrapping and stressing and counting our money on other things: watching movies, cleaning the house, being together. 

Aren't those things more important? 

I don't want to sound like a fuddy-duddy. Everyone gets to choose how they spend their money and how they spend their Christmas. But I'll admit--it's hard to watch people I love spend hundreds of dollars on gifts for their kids, just so they can have piles upon piles to open on Christmas morning. It's hard to know that many children in the United States go without--not just without gifts on Christmas morning, but without food every day, without the basic necessities like coats and warm socks. 

Our logic is that we have everything we need. Trust me when I say, Forrest does not need more toys. He needs more clothes, but he grows slower now than he did before and guessing season-to-size matches is hard. He wants for nothing: he is warm and fed and happy and enjoys throwing every toy he owns over the baby gate, repeatedly, day in and day out. He doesn't need anything else to throw, I promise. 

It's the same for Danny and I: we don't need anything. 

So we are limiting the gifts, but increasing everything else: more nights baking cookies together, drinking hot cocoa, watching movies. More days spent sitting on the couch, reading books and singing. More days spent together, instead of shopping. 

We still get asked, plenty, what we want for Christmas or what Forrest wants, and our answer is the same: please buy supplies and gifts for foster children, or children in need, in your area. Please donate time or money to a local soup kitchen. We don't need anything, I promise. 

There Something About the Lights in December

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I'm a lover of early Christmas decorations. 

I know, I know. I'm one of those people. 

Whenever people talk about the Christmas Creep (that delightful moment when Halloween ends and suddenly, everything in stores is replaced with Christmas stuff and it's happening earlier and earlier and faster and faster every year, hence, "the Creep"), they look to me with an expectation of solidarity. "I hate how once Halloween is over, bam! It's Christmas!" Then the piercing look. I gulp. 

"I actually love early Christmas. The longer it lasts, the better," I reply, making a mental note to not invite them to my house until after Thanksgiving. 

Why, you ask? 

I already have my Christmas tree up. In fact, I've had it up since the day after Halloween. 

What can I say? I just get so excited. I just want everything to be peppermint, to be red-and-white striped. I want to wear fair isle sweaters and beanies and snow boots. I want red cups at Starbucks and Christmas music on the radio. I love it. I always have. 

Thursday night, I left work to meet my sister-in-law, Amy. We walked and talked and ate frozen yogurt. After I drove her home, it was starting to get dark (5pm, still early) and I realized that I love that feeling. Those first nights of early evening, when the world seems to turn the lights out at exactly 5:30. The headlights and the neon signs of shopping centers and the stars shining like Christmas lights. I love those early days: it feels magical and crisp and happy. I remember driving home from school or events with my mom, sitting in the front seat and watching the lights shine past me. It reminds me of a lot of things, but mostly, it reminds me of my family and home and being blissfully happy. 

So when it comes to hate towards the Christmas Creep, I have to be perfectly honest: you won't find kinship with me.