There are two undeniable Christmas traditions in our household. Sometime during the run-up to Christmas, we have to watch The Muppet’s Christmas Carol — and sing along in loud and lusty voices.

And invariably, sometime in the mad rush to Christmas, I turn into Scrooge and cancel Christmas.

In our family, this has become something of a betting matter: what day will Mom cancel Christmas this year?

I used to love Christmas as a kid. I remember shopping with my saved allowance in Dresden’s two five-and-dime stores, finding wonderful treasures, confident that whatever I gave would be just the right thing.

I remember, as I got older, making things — drawing Christmas cards, sewing and crocheting gifts, spending hours wrapping gifts so each wrapping reflected the receiver of the gift. I remember going Christmas shopping with my Dad on Christmas Eve when he bought my Mom’s present, usually at one of the two jewellery stores in Dresden. My Mom, always prepared, had usually visited the stores a few days earlier — so the merchant knew exactly what to suggest when my Dad came in.

I remember, too, all the visiting. Friends and relatives stopped over. Customers stopped in to my Dad’s car dealership Christmas Eve, just to stand about and chat and wish everyone Christmas cheer. And there usually seemed to be some of that floating around, as well.

It seemed like there was all the time in the world.

Maybe there was all the time in the world back in the ’50s. Or maybe it was just a child’s perspective. But, surely, now things move way too fast. I think of Christmas now and I shrink from the furious pace to get all the things done in time for the Big Day.

There are too many gifts to buy; too many stores and too many crowds to shoulder your way through to buy those gifts. It seems to be a time to throw money at things, because you have to have the “perfect” gift and time is running out. There is the juggling of who is going to go where as family politics play out.

When I was a child, Christmas seemed to have meaning. Now I inevitably become discouraged by the commercialism of Christmas. My sister-in-law Carolyn was in Toronto recently visiting from Jamaica and for reasons beyond me, my husband and his sister decided we should go to the Santa Claus parade. (Maybe it is because they are both secretly eight years old.)

So, I joined them, remembering the fun we had going to the parade when the kids were small, when the floats widened their eyes and Santa’s arrival meant magic was in the air.

Maybe I am just getting too old. I liked the marching bands and the clowns but was sorely disappointed in the floats. As my 21-year-old daughter explained to me, it is all about product placement. Ronald McDonald was on the McDonald’s float, polar bears and penguins were on the Coke float. (Does this bother anyone besides me — that creatures from two opposite poles are hanging out on a Christmas float?) Mickey and Minnie Mouse were there, compliments of the Disney Store, and, of course, Barbie made her appearance. It was all one big shopping spectacle.

I am going to try very hard this year not to cancel Christmas — even though I hate shopping. I am going to try and keep the spirit of Christmas, the way we did when I was a kid. And remember it is about giving — and that we are damned lucky to be able to give and share.

We are truly blessed — I just have to remember that.

— TESSA WILMOTT, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF