Does anyone else have impossible Christmas fantasies that involve their family getting along for an entire evening, sharing goodies without crying, or singing carols with no one stomping away in anger because some people refuse to sing Frosty The Snowman more than 6 times in a row? Or am I the only one who has a vision of Christmas as an episode of Leave It To Beaver?
I think that for me, Christmas is a little like childbirth and by the time I'm ready to go through the rigors of the holidays, I've forgotten entirely the level of misery that made me take a solemn oath to never put myself through that particular torture. Every Thanksgiving I'm astounded to hear myself say things like "This year I want to pull out all the stops and do it right." or "This Christmas is going to be just perfect!". What am I thinking?? I'm not, actually. I'm caught up in the Yule tide and barely able to keep my head above eggnog. Every year I start out with great expectations, but inevitably I reach a moment that reminds me that we are most definitely not the Cleavers. We are the Everett's and that means we do Christmas our way.
I may have visions of our family sitting around stringing popcorn while telling Christmas stories and singing songs. However, Mitch hasn't sat in one place for more than 15 minutes in all of his 4 years on earth, the kids don't listen to any story that doesn't have a dragon or a dinosaur in it, no one knows all of the words to any one song, and popcorn is not meant to be strung. Ever. It's horribly fragile and disappointing without butter, therefore it's not worth eating the broken pieces. So what actually happens is this; Jordan and I end up sending the kids to bed early because stringing popcorn makes us curse like sailors and we are way too exhausted to invent non-expletives. Instead, we start a swear jar to help pay for therapy and throw away popcorn garlands that are tangled into the physical embodiment of bah-humbug.
We make Christmas goodies, then eat them or throw them away after a week of not being able to find the time to deliver them to friends and neighbors. We shamelessly use the idea of Santa as a bargaining tool to keep the kids compliant and in line. We don't decorate the tree because we are tired of yelling at the baby. We make up elaborate lies to explain why Bill (our elf on the shelf) never seems to move, because we find it impossible to remember to change his hiding place at night. We hang Christmas lights, then forget to plug them in all month and leave them up until March.
I'm grateful that even though it seems like we, as parents, are doing everything possible to sabotage the season, our children have somehow managed to find a shred of magic to celebrate. They swallow our elf lies and Santa blackmail with smiles and nods of encouragement. They exclaim with breathless wonder at the beauty of the bare tree when we remember to plug in the lights. They delight at the prospect of never ending dessert plates and their hearts are full with the spirit of Christmas. Children have a way of reminding us of what's important, don't they?
I suppose that the lesson would be that every Christmas is the perfect Christmas, if our hearts are full of joy and good will towards men. If we have love for our fellow man as well as every living creature, we can ignite a spark of peace that will carry us through the Christmas season and beyond. I'm going to try, really try, to keep my heart open to the magic of Christmas, instead of focusing on the details of a 'perfect Christmas'. From now on, I won't stress over the details- I'll focus on joy and love. No matter what. Even if the knot slips and the strung cranberries go bouncing to all corners of the house so that the dog finds them, only to barf them up on the living room rug in the dead of night... God bless us, everyone.
I think that for me, Christmas is a little like childbirth and by the time I'm ready to go through the rigors of the holidays, I've forgotten entirely the level of misery that made me take a solemn oath to never put myself through that particular torture. Every Thanksgiving I'm astounded to hear myself say things like "This year I want to pull out all the stops and do it right." or "This Christmas is going to be just perfect!". What am I thinking?? I'm not, actually. I'm caught up in the Yule tide and barely able to keep my head above eggnog. Every year I start out with great expectations, but inevitably I reach a moment that reminds me that we are most definitely not the Cleavers. We are the Everett's and that means we do Christmas our way.
I may have visions of our family sitting around stringing popcorn while telling Christmas stories and singing songs. However, Mitch hasn't sat in one place for more than 15 minutes in all of his 4 years on earth, the kids don't listen to any story that doesn't have a dragon or a dinosaur in it, no one knows all of the words to any one song, and popcorn is not meant to be strung. Ever. It's horribly fragile and disappointing without butter, therefore it's not worth eating the broken pieces. So what actually happens is this; Jordan and I end up sending the kids to bed early because stringing popcorn makes us curse like sailors and we are way too exhausted to invent non-expletives. Instead, we start a swear jar to help pay for therapy and throw away popcorn garlands that are tangled into the physical embodiment of bah-humbug.
We make Christmas goodies, then eat them or throw them away after a week of not being able to find the time to deliver them to friends and neighbors. We shamelessly use the idea of Santa as a bargaining tool to keep the kids compliant and in line. We don't decorate the tree because we are tired of yelling at the baby. We make up elaborate lies to explain why Bill (our elf on the shelf) never seems to move, because we find it impossible to remember to change his hiding place at night. We hang Christmas lights, then forget to plug them in all month and leave them up until March.
I'm grateful that even though it seems like we, as parents, are doing everything possible to sabotage the season, our children have somehow managed to find a shred of magic to celebrate. They swallow our elf lies and Santa blackmail with smiles and nods of encouragement. They exclaim with breathless wonder at the beauty of the bare tree when we remember to plug in the lights. They delight at the prospect of never ending dessert plates and their hearts are full with the spirit of Christmas. Children have a way of reminding us of what's important, don't they?
I suppose that the lesson would be that every Christmas is the perfect Christmas, if our hearts are full of joy and good will towards men. If we have love for our fellow man as well as every living creature, we can ignite a spark of peace that will carry us through the Christmas season and beyond. I'm going to try, really try, to keep my heart open to the magic of Christmas, instead of focusing on the details of a 'perfect Christmas'. From now on, I won't stress over the details- I'll focus on joy and love. No matter what. Even if the knot slips and the strung cranberries go bouncing to all corners of the house so that the dog finds them, only to barf them up on the living room rug in the dead of night... God bless us, everyone.
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