Pillow Power

All Together Now

Khama Ennis’s marriage may have ended, but that doesn’t mean her family’s happy holidays have to.

M Y K I D S H AV E always loved Christmas, a day on which they could reliably count on a captive audience of me and their father. They would wake up to gifts under the tree that weren’t there when they pretended to go to bed. Breakfast faded into a whirlwind of tearing paper, the room a blur of happy chaos. Every Christmas of their lives, we had all been together.

My daughters were 6 and 9 when our divorce became final. We were heartbroken that our girls had to live in two places. But we promised them that they wouldn’t have to decide between us for the holidays. Each year, we’d trade off hosting the festivities.

In 2018, my ex-husband opted to host at his parents’ home, a five-hour drive away. He took the girls up, and I drove solo. I hadn’t been there since our separation, and when I got close, I had to pull over to cry. I’d had a warm relationship with my in-laws, but divorce leaves deep wounds, and I didn’t know how things would be. Tension built inside me; I thought about turning around. The last few miles were the hardest I’d ever driven. But the visit was lovely, and the girls had what they needed.

We’ve had a joint Christmas ever since. My ex-husband and I both like to sneak gifts under the tree on Christmas Eve. In the morning, the girls wake up and pretend they’re not trying to figure out what’s inside them. We have breakfast, open presents, and do all the things a traditional family does. Making this work has not always been easy or comfortable, but for us it has been worth it. Our kids’ only complaint is that they don’t get double the gifts, like some of their friends. But I consider our holiday get-togethers a definite coparenting win.

Khama Ennis, M.D., M.P.H.,

a Parents advisor, is the associate chief of emergency medicine at Cooley Dickinson Hospital, in Northampton, Massachusetts.

There’s bliss in finding ways to celebrate that are uniquely yours.

Roamin’ Holiday

Catherine Hong finally cracks the case of her household’s mysterious, mobile tradition.

A B O U T T E N years ago, my husband invented a tradition he calls the Annual Christmas Walk. Shortly after our two kids open stockings, he says with exaggerated pomposity, “Children, it’s time for the Annua l Christmas Wa lk!” They troop to the car, he whisks them away, and they return f lush-cheeked, giddy, and starved for breakfast.

For the first couple of years, I figured he was leading our former city kids on an exploration of the woods in our new town. Or perhaps he was taking them to the abandoned parcel of land across the train tracks where I, unlike their freewheeling dad, would never trespass. Though these are kids who’ve never done well with day-to-day transitions, I did notice that they always got their shoes on quickly. They even came up with a singsongy Gilbert and Sullivan–style chant: “The Annual Christmas Walk! The Annual Christmas Walk!” As the years went on, I idly fantasized that these jaunts were an excuse to buy me a last-minute gift, though, of course, they never returned with anything but mysterious grins. Whatever they were doing, I wasn’t going to pry. I was usually so cantankerous by December 25 that this brief break was a bonus gift.

It was only a couple of years ago that the three of them finally invited me to join them on their fabled outing. We got into the car, and my husband drove us to a nearby nature preserve. We pulled into the parking lot. Then my daughter got out and switched places with him in the driver’s seat. “Get ready, Mommy!” she squealed as she rev ved the engine and began to drive around the empty parking lot. After her turn, her brother did the same. Aha! No wonder they both loved this yearly adventure.

It’s a good thing they hadn’t told me, because I surely would have ruined the fun by making killjoy predictions of dented fenders. And I have to hand it to my husband: The Annual Christmas Walk will likely be one of their favorite childhood memories. It remains the best-held secret that they or their father ever kept from me. (As far as I know.) And it’s one I don’t begrudge them at all.

Catherine Hong is a Parents contributing editor.

What a Glorious Feeling

Gene Kelly’s joyful footwork once carried Annie Sawyer and her mother through a dark time. Now, each Christmas, his classic film cements Sawyer’s bond with her own daughter.

I N T H E F I N A L 21 days of my mother’s life, before she succumbed to lung cancer on New Year’s Eve, we spent nearly every minute together. I’d moved away to New York City after high school, and though we talked on the phone weekly, aside from holiday visits, we hadn’t spent much time together in the intervening 15 years. So much had never been said by this woman who preferred reading to conversation. My mother gave me a fierce love of books and a rabid fear of littering, and fostered independence by teaching me select impractical skills: how to embroider, carve a jack-o’- lantern, and catch shrimp at dusk. Now we were sharing a small apartment on Key Largo, Florida, avoiding serious topics and left with little to discuss besides the weather, her next chemotherapy appointment, and the heron that fished at the dock. I was terrified of losing her and helpless to stop it. Both of us were unable to articulate our fears or our love.

When she found out I had never seen Singin’ in the Rain, Mom insisted on a trip to the local video rental store. We spent Christmas Eve snuggled

Sawyer (right) with her brother and mother in 1972

in blankets on the couch, eating ice cream and laughing ourselves into tears at Donald O’Connor’s ridiculous directive to “Make ’Em Laugh,” Debbie Reynolds’s exuberant joy at greeting the dawn in “Good Morning,” and, of course, the ineffable and gorgeous Gene Kelly tapping his way into our hearts in the title number, “Singin’ in the Rain.” For those few hours we didn’t need words.

Six years later, I became a mom myself. Motherhood is a bittersweet experience without your own mother to fuss and coo over your baby and tell you stories of your own infancy; to reassure you that you will get it right. I grew up, in a way, with my daughter, learning a new appreciation for my mother and the challenges and delights of raising a child. After the endless repetition of Disney princess movies and Studio Ghibli anime, I was excited to sit down with my daughter on Christmas Eve, cuddle in blankets, and laugh until we cried (or maybe I was the only one with tears in my eyes) as we watched Singin’ in the Rain together. It’s an annual tradition now, when she comes home from college for the holidays. But I am reminded whenever I watch the film that we never really leave our children if we give them memories to carry them through.

Annie Sawyer is a writer, playwright, and stand-up comic.

P i l l ow Powe r

These cushy accessories are less of a splurge than, say, a new rug or sofa. But they can still spiff up your family’s spaces with a little color and texture—and a whole lot of comfiness. And that’s no fluff.

by C AT H E R I N E H O N G

M A K E A S O F A S TAT E M E N T

The most obvious landing spot for a passel of pillows is the family couch. Think about having enough so that every member can create their own plush nest on movie nights. “Deeper sofas demand more pillows,” says Megan Hersch, founder and CEO of the digitally based design firm RoomLift, in Los Angeles, and a mom of two. “But if you pile on too many, then there’s no room to sit.” Some combos to try:

All Neutrals

Even the least design-savvy of us can pull off pairing these soothing shades, whether creams, camels, khakis, grays, or taupes. If you don’t want the combo to feel too snoozy, “the trick is to mix textures,” says Lauren Meichtry, founder of the Manhattan Beach, California, home-accessory line Elsie Home and a mom of two. So bring on the velvet, cable knit, and faux fur—or even fringe, tassels, and embroidery—and work a variety of shapes and sizes.

Wild Prints

Start with whatever bold pattern makes your heart happy. Then search out a coordinating pillow that features at least one shared color. The basic rule of thumb is to mix large and small prints, like the oversize diamonds and the leafy botanical, below. “That balance of scale feels symmetrical,” Hersch says. Finally, offset all that drama with a solidcolored accent in a similar shade.

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1 / Leisure Taupe Pillow. $45; CB2.com

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2 / Saro Lifestyle Juneau Collection Classic Faux Fur Throw Pillow. $31; amazon .com +

3 / Better Homes & Gardens Knit Decorative Pillow. $13; walmart.com

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WHAT GOES WHERE? Anchor each end of the sofa with one or two of the largest pillows, and line up the rest in size order so the smallest sits toward the middle. For a sectional, layer two or three cushions of various sizes in the center corner in addition to the ends for balance.

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1 / Granada Pillow Cover. $98; serena andlily.com +

2 / Painted Diamonds 2 Pillow by Brandy Folse. $44; minted.com +

3 / Bradford Cotton Throw Pillow. $61; allmodern.com

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