Preseason Reset: Surviving December Without Imploding
Because burnout is a terrible New Year’s resolution.
Most families have a Sunday dinner tradition.
We have a Monday night.
It started years ago when we realized something simple but important:
nothing is scheduled on Mondays.
No sports.
No Scouts.
No concerts.
No last-minute events sneaking onto the calendar.
Just… space.
So we claimed it.
Every Monday, the boys come home, drop their backpacks, and update us on whatever is coming their way
tests,
projects,
random school drama,
the one kid who somehow gets in trouble every week for the same thing.
We talk about what’s ahead for work.
We walk through the meals for the week.
And whoever is helping with dinner that night gets to do homework early, then join me in the kitchen.
It isn’t fancy.
It isn’t choreographed.
It isn’t even particularly quiet.
But it’s ours.
And before dinner, we rotate between a few different prayers. Whoever cooked gets to choose,
unless they defer to Drew,
who always wants the loud, fun one.
There’s always one kid who treats prayer like a pre‑game chant.
And because it repeats, it becomes a rhythm.
The rest of December might be chaotic, but Monday night slows everything down just enough for our home to breathe.
Reflection
Families rarely remember the whole month of December.
They remember the one moment that cuts through the noise.
A weekly tradition doesn’t work because it’s planned perfectly.
It works because it happens predictably.
For us, Monday night is less about being magical and more about being consistent.
It’s the one evening our kids can count on the pace being slower,
the house being steadier,
and the parents being present.
In a season where everything speeds up,
a weekly moment becomes a brake pedal.
This is what Month 2 of Preseason is about:
Shifting from resetting ourselves to resetting the pace of our family.
Insight
Rituals don’t build themselves.
They’re just small actions repeated with intention.
And here’s the truth most parents forget:
Kids don’t need elaborate traditions to feel anchored.
They need something that happens every single week,
something that tells them,
“This is who we are. This is how our family moves.”
Whether it’s cocoa walks,
a weekly story,
a shared prayer,
or a night in the kitchen,
what matter most is the rhythm it creates.
Tradition is just intentional repetition.
Scripture
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” — Psalm 90:12
Some parents read this and assume that numbering our days means packing more into them
more outings,
more memories,
more “don’t‑miss‑this” moments.
We feel the pressure to make childhood magical, and at least for me, it can slip into fear: fear that I’ll somehow waste the time, or that my kids will miss a core memory everyone else seems to be giving theirs.
But I have come to believe that numbering your days is more about noticing. It’s about noticing, then choosing, the moments that actually shape us and showing up for them on purpose.
It’s the quiet reminder that wisdom grows when we keep returning to what matters,
the small,
steady practices that form the heart of our home.
Last Thought
As December speeds up and the weather slows everything else down,
I’m reminded that my job is to protect the heartbeat of our home.
Meals together, nightly gratitude, and Monday family night
these are the rhythms that help us set the pace inside our house,
no matter what the calendar or the cold tries to demand from us.
Kids don't need elaborate they need consistent. Love that
This is so solid. The idea of a weekly moment that slows the whole house down feels like good CRM for family life. Not flashy, just steady, repeatable, and grounding. That’s how you get everyone home in one piece.