'Tis the season to be of good cheer. Myself, I'm feeling a bit holiday impaired. I've been searching, but coming up empty. It's the first time in a decade that Santa isn't coming... The "baby" of the family is eight and she semi, sort of, believes, but not really. That changes things in a way I hadn't anticipated or prepared for.
When did the holidays turn from joyous to an obligation? And therein lies the problem, I have been looking for the joy rather than creating it. I've been looking to all the tinsel and trappings to somehow lift my spirits, but it's remained elusive. I can't get it at the mall.
There is no holiday spirit in parking lots. None.
But I know the spirit lurks somewhere. What was your best holiday ever?
For me, well, there was that time we skipped that day...
Like most kids, I loved Christmas -- everything about it. I loved the carols (that I was too shy to sing) and the snow (that always came a few weeks later) and the baking (that I did not do) and seeing all my cousins... We did no decorating until Christmas Eve, when my brother and I hung our stockings. Then we set out a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk, and went upstairs. We laid there for what seemed like hours, willing sleep to come so Santa could finally arrive.
My mom remembers it differently.
Mom recalled with a touch of icy bitterness wistfulness that things weren't quite special as I remembered. In our neighborhood, Santa brought the tree. A crappy fake tree that looked like green steel wool wrapped around a wire hanger and poked into a broom handle, but year after year, he brought that same sad little tree, still showing last year's tinsel in the clutches of those wiry bristles. I don't know why Santa hated us so.
Mom couldn't get started until my brother and I were asleep and then she'd lug out the box of tree components, the decorations, wrapping paper and presents. While mom cursed created a wonderland, my dad was feeling a little bit of that Christmas spirit(s) at the family-free office party -- and really, what says Christmas like getting drunk with co-workers? Then he'd take the last train home and stumble in after the all the presents had been placed under the tree. Maybe that was the Santa I was so sure I heard year after year... (If there is a small bit of poetic justice, it's that he had to nurse a hangover in the midst of excited kids and noisy toys.) Then there were the obligatory dinners with both sides of the family -- old grudges, new tiffs, hurt feelings and Nana's gift of sweaters knitted from leftover Brillo pads...
All in all, I preferred my version.
My mom destroyed my precious memories mentioned that story when she was complimenting me. It was one of those backhanded non-compliments, but she meant well. She admired my ability to just not care all that much -- so unlike her when she valiantly struggled to handle Christmas Eve all alone... Hmmm, destroyed my childhood myth and crushed my confidence in parenting (but other than those five minutes, she's been a really good mom.)
The year that I didn't care was 2002. Every year, without fail, at some point during the week before Christmas, MrKgirls will turn to me and say "you know, I'm just not really feeling the Christmas spirit this year. I don't know why." And every year he acts as if that has just never happened before. Like clockwork, three days before Christmas MrKgirls announced "you know, I'm just not really feeling the Christmas spirit this year. I don't know why." I have a few ideas, want to hear them? He declined. He decided to go with "head cold."
Nothing was coming together the way I had envisioned -- Kgirl1 was in kindergarten and extremely excited; Kgirl2 was able to fully participate and I wanted it to be wonderful for her. And on the afternoon of the 24th, MrKgirls hinted I should consider doing it all on my own. The wrapping and the baking and getting the girls to bed. Hmm, I've heard this story before... No thank you.
So I suggested we not do December 25th, let's have Christmas on the 26th. He was intrigued, but wondered how we could pull off such a feat. The girls are five and two, I think we can fool them...
First, our advent boxes were inexplicably five rows of five doors. Yeah, why go with that obvious six rows of four that would add up to, you know, 24 days before Christmas. Obviously our advent box was meant for just such a subterfuge. Then I called my parents to let them know their Christmas Day arrival was now officially Christmas Eve, wink wink. TVs are off for the duration. No leaving the house on the 26th, lest they see large holiday-sale crowds. And the final piece was the Norad's Santa Tracker They track Santa's route around the world, posting a new city every hour. And once posted, it stays up for days. So I could wander over to the computer and punch up a "new" city on the route. And then when I was ready, I played Boston and the announcer says that all the boys and girls in the Northeast should be heading to bed because Santa is getting ready to arrive. (I also Tivo the ball dropping in Times Square on New Year's Eve. I'd pour them a glass of bubbly grape juice in a wine glass and we'd ring in the new year on New Year's Day and they still make it to bed on time. They have fond, yet completely phony, memories of staying up to midnight year after year.)
The only glitch on that Christmas not Eve was when K1 found a chocolate Santa and wanted to eat the entire thing just before bed. I told her that it was a tracking device the elves left behind because Santa can't stop at every single house in the world. He only stops where there are good little boys and girls. If you eat it, Santa won't get the signal; he won't know to stop. MrKgirl wondered if I spent the afternoon devising that story. Seriously, if I had realized she would find it, I would have just put the damn thing away. For some reason, he finds my ability to lie on the fly like that very scary. It's a mom thing...
So that's how I learned to stop worrying about the perfect Christmas. Actually, avoiding TV, after Christmas sales, and crowds and being surrounded with those we love -- it was the perfect Christmas.
Here's to a wonderful holiday to you and yours... In the words of Greg Lake:
I wish you a hopeful christmas
I wish you a brave new year
All anguish pain and sadness
Leave your heart and let your road be clear