I come from a family of overachievers.

In high school, my Type A personality landed me a front-row seat in the classroom, complete with the grades to go with it. My father, the engineer, meticulously rebuilt classic car engines, after work and as a hobby, while they hung from the swingset in our backyard. And when it came to Christmas, my mother, the interior decorator, wrapped and tied every present as if it were a judged masterpiece. She had Martha Stewart finesse before it was even cool. And I was her right-hand elf.

I took pride in my work as Santa’s helper—no raw edges, creases, or mismatched paper patterns. And still do. But as I get older, I’m letting a few things slide. And here’s why:

I just can’t roll into Christmas after Halloween.

Not long after the kids’ candy is counted and sorted by type, my local grocery store rolls out the Christmas décor. Sure, there are a few token Thanksgiving napkins on the store shelves too. But as a collective, we’re reminded to put the masks away because the Christmas push is on.

I have friends who start shopping for Christmas as soon as the summer days get shorter. But for me, well, I just don’t have the forethought to buy Christmas gifts when I happen to stumble upon the “perfect something” during summer vacation. Instead, I approach the gift-giving season on my own terms by spending one weekend with my daughter shopping locally (and for a cause). Plus, I’m still waiting for Thanksgiving dinner to digest …

I don’t have a 9 to 5 job.

As a writer, digital marketer, and skincare consultant for LimeLight by Alcone, I have many shoes to fill. Sometimes I need to get up at 5:00 a.m. to schedule social media posts or to get in a quick workout. All so that I can use the time in the day, when my mind is alert, to create prose that somebody actually wants to read. And since self-employment doesn’t have parameters, I’m often answering texts while making dinner and wrapping up my workday long after the kids go to bed.

This year, instead of spending my nights stressing over the five social media pages I manage, I’m going to disconnect my phone, turn off my computer, and give my family the gift of me. You won’t find me filling that space with online shopping or choosing the perfect layout for the annual Christmas photo card. Sorry guys, things might not be “just so” this year.

We’ve never cut or purchased a Christmas tree.

When I was young, we’d go to the tree farm every year and cut down the biggest tree. I loved the tradition and couldn’t wait to drink hot cocoa and string the popcorn garland. (Although I didn’t much care for pricking myself with the needle, over and over again, while doing so.)

But my family has a different tradition. We have an enormous twenty-year-old jade tree that is as much our “pet,” as it is a plant in our home. In lieu of a conifer, we decorate this tree with lights and ornaments each year. Sometimes I feel like I’m depriving my kids of a festive holiday tree-cutting ritual, since our unconventional décor is in no way “normal.” But they love our little tree and the ornaments they hand select for it each year. And it really does look beautiful all done up and surrounded by tropical poinsettias. (No “hippie” commentary, please.)

Getting outside trumps shopping.

There’s a reason why I don’t live within 60 miles of a mall. First, I’d regularly spend all my hard-earned money on non-necessity items (I had a great mall close by growing up, and I’m an addict like that). Secondly, after 15 years in retail, mass consumerism gives me the heebie-jeebies. So when people were lining up outside Target on Black Friday, I was rallying my troops to #optoutside and work off the indulgent turkey feed we ate the night before.

In fact, my kids don’t even know what Black Friday is. But the opening of our local ski hill is a religious event!

I intend to keep it that way. And just like a homemade feast, Thanksgiving weekend will be savored … and spent outside.

I’ve learned how to say “no.”

With a family and full-time job (albeit a work-from-home affair), I find myself overwhelmed when my plate is maxed. For instance, I have two events going on this weekend, one I’m hosting (A Mountain Girl’s Holiday Reset) and one is a Christmas party I’m attending in Jackson Hole. Everything is in place and will flow just perfectly, I know, but I’m still a little anxious about having two-nights of commitments. ‘Cause in my mind it goes something like this:

(For the ladies night.)

Where will my hubby, the kids, and my dog (who isn’t the warmest meet-and-greet-er) go for guest arrival?

Should he take the kids out for dinner and a movie?

Should they go to a friend’s house?

What if they come home in the middle of the yoga class I’m hosting and the dog runs inside, barks incessantly, and throws her nose into everybody’s crotch?

(And for the company Christmas party.)

Where will the kids spend the night?

Who’s going to drop them off at two different places at two different times so that we can get back, get ready, and meet our friends to drive over one of the steepest mountain passes in North America?

Thank God we have a designated driver.

This weekend will be festive, for sure, and will be a good reminder to take the next four off by saying “no” to any affair that does not align with the energy of the family.

After all, we’re looking forward to a whole Christmas break of skiing and snowboarding. We need to rest up!

Being perfect makes people ill.

In the last few months, I’ve talked to numerous women my age—with and without kids—who have run themselves ragged. The list of ailments varies from itchy rashes to full-blown autoimmune disease.

In my research on this topic, I have landed here.

If we, as women, overachieve to the point where we are operating at breakneck speed 24/7, then we put our bodies into a constant fight-and-flight mode. This causes cortisol levels to elevate in our blood, which then leads to inflammation. No way around it. Now—everyone has a different tolerance level and some can operate this way for years with no negative backlash. But the cumulative effect of having a more-than-full plate is making us, as a collective, sick.

In a future blog post, I plan to tackle the ways to reverse the habits that keep us in this fight-or-flight pattern. But tell me ladies, is stressing out—about baking 10 different types of cookies, while working 40 hours a week, and playing taxi driver for your kids, all the while keeping the house tidy, the laundry clean and folded, and cooking some semblance of a nutritional family meal each night—really worth it? I think not. Being perfect kinda sucks, actually.

Santa’s pockets aren’t deep, but his heart is full.

As kids, we would go to one grandparents’ house on Christmas Eve to open a pile of presents. Then, we would go to the next grandparents’ house on Christmas Day, greeted by a subsequent pile. Finally, we would drive home to the best pile of all!

I get it. My mom and dad grew with depression-era parents. Understandably, as self-made entrepreneurs themselves, they wanted to make sure that we had more than the frugalness their childhood allowed.

But while I am so thankful for being the spoiled-rotten and happy kid that I was, I can in no way replicate this performance. So I ask: What are we teaching our kids by giving them mountains of gifts under the tree (even if it is a jade plant)? Do they know that Christmas is more about gratitude than receiving what’s on their list? And since we are spiritual, yet not religious, will their loose concept of Baby Jesus be enough to fill their hearts with what’s right and good in this world?

Well, our stockings might not be overflowing this year, but there’s one thing for sure that I won’t say “no” to this Christmas. That is—selflessly gifting our time as a family to others. And while we may not have the means to make another family’s under-the-tree festivities less sparse, we will set the intention to fill their cups, and ours, with joy.