I love Christmas. I really do, I love the spirit of the season. Peace, love, goodwill to man, and all that holiday cheer that goes with it. I love the squeals of delight my kids let out when they come downstairs and see the presents under the tree. I love the spark that lights up a child's eye when he sees Santa and gets to say "Hello". Yep, I love it. I should say I loved it. I found this year I cringed a little bit each time the big guy from the North Pole got brought up by my ten year old son.
Why? Why would a mother who does not want her kids to grow up too fast cringe when she hears her kids talk about Santa? The answer is easy, not simple but easy. I fear the up most devastation and loss my son will feel when he finds out he has been believing in a lie. A lie I have told him and encouraged for the past ten years.
Xander at ten years old, in the fifth grade still believes in Santa. I mean REALLY believes. Unwavering devotion, never questioning his existence. He believes in Santa, the way a holy man believes in God. There is no question, he is there, he is watching, and if I'm good he will provide.
I always figured he would sort it all out. One day he would catch on to the bags in the closet, the paper in the garage, the boxes from Amazon taking over the house, and just put two and two together. Isn't that what we all did? We just kind of questioned it and asked. I remember my mom telling me Santa was alive in our hearts and imaginations. It was good. I'm going to use it too, if I'm ever asked.
There in lies the problem. I've never been asked if Santa is real. He just is, there is no need to ask. I remember a few years ago we were having a frozen yogurt outside at a
cafe. The man who plays the mall Santa walked by with a clipboard in
hand. Now this guy was good, real beard, real rosy cheeks, straight up
Santa. The kids were so excited to see him with his list, checking on
the kids in the area. Of course Santa exists, we saw him when it
wasn't even Christmas time.
This year I realized how strong my son's devotion to the all mighty Santa was early in the holiday season. He was crying about a C on a progress report. I assumed he was upset because his teacher mom does not tolerate Cs. Um, no. He looked up at me tears running down his cheeks, "Mom, I'm going to be on the naughty list." "What, wait, that's why you are crying? The naughty list?" "Yes" Well crap. Looks like I need to lay off the pressure on grades a little bit and work on getting my son a reality slap. I suppose I don't want him to get a slap. Maybe just a poke. I bring my concerns to my friends at work, some think its sweet, and then ones gives me a reality slap of "When he finds out the truth, he will be crushed and devastated." "Thank you, that made me feel so much better"
I can't go to Pinterest and find one of the cutesy letters to leave your child about who Santa really is. Why can't I? He's never asked if he is real. He's never questioned it. When he was first diagnosed with ADHD, I was told he exhibits "Cognitive Rigidity". A firm mindset, a stubborn streak, a rigid way of thinking. I guess this translates into a strong commitment to the man in the big red suit.
When I think of all the fantasy characters our children grow up believing in, the one I wanted to dump first was the Easter Bunny. I mean in my brain he just does not make sense or have anything thing to do with the season at hand. A giant rabbit hopping around hiding plastic eggs and leaving baskets of foil wrapped candy. At least Santa has a sleigh, and the tooth fairy has wings. This fuzzy bunny has to make it around the world on just two feet. Then I figured if I let that one go, the others would all go too and I just wasn't ready for that to happen. It seems to me when you let go of Santa you let go of part of your childhood. You let go of that blind faith in something. To quote Josh Groban's magical holiday song Believe, "You'll have everything you need, if you just believe." The song always makes me cry, just from the sheer beauty of the idea. I want my kids to have everything they need. The guilt trip isn't helping Josh Groban.
My son is a very serious little guy, but at the same time very immature. He is going to go off to Middle School next year and I worry about how he will manage. Middle School is a wasteland of preteen emotions and hormonal confusion. I know, I've taught 7th grade for 8 years. I worry how my children will manage in this unforgiving destination. This worry hit me over the head, every time I heard him say "Its okay Santa will make it in his workshop". At first I just cringed a little each time. Then my imagination of what will happen to him if older nonbeliever mean kids get a hold of him. I thought maybe I need to help him, save him from the devastation. I started dropping clues to maybe insert a little doubt into his withstanding belief. "Well I don't think elves build electronics or licensed Disney characters" "I think they may have copyrights." Yes I used copyright law as a method of doubt. Scary thing is, it made sense to him. I would have to buy those presents so Santa doesn't get sued. I kid you not, he is worried about Santa getting sued for copyright infringement.
There have been times over the years when my kids have wanted random things that are not easy to get. For example Japanese import video games. Thinking, if you can look up the existence of a limited edition Japanese import of a Kirby game, you would be able to question the logistics of Santa.
I admit I have always encouraged my kids to stand up for what they believe in. To enjoy life, and keep that sense of wonder with them. I hate that they are growing older and that sense of wonder will diminish. I hate that I feel like my child will feel devastated when he learns the truth. On the same hand I don't want him to be the only 11 year old in 6th grade waiting up for the tooth fairy and writing letters to Santa. I think one of my biggest issues with this situation is my own feeling of total hypocrisy. I want them to stand up for their beliefs but not their fantasies? I want them to enjoy their childhood but end part of their imagination. How can I have both? How can I take away joy and want them to have it at the same time?
This year I figured I needed to do a couple things to maybe shake up the beliefs without it resulting in total devastation or me yelling from the rooftop "I'm a bad mother I've been lying to you for years." It was like my own secret operation to make it easier for me to deliver a reality slap. I needed them to meet me halfway in this. Give me the opportunity for my Santa is in the hearts of all children speech.
At first I was subtle I didn't mention writing letters to Santa, I requested Christmas lists for the kids to share with their grandparents. Good job. Subtle, right? Then Xander came with the envelope and asked me how many stamps he needs to mail his list to Santa . He wrote it out twice so Grammy and Santa could have a copy. Maddie didn't send one, she figured he would get Xander's and come here with stuff for her anyways. Okay more aggressive measures are needed. I left all the wrapping paper I was going to use in the back of the car. They would see it and put two and two together. I didn't disguise my handwriting on the tags on the packages. Surely at 9 and 10 my kids know my handwriting by now. I mentioned stocking stuffers more than once to people around me in casual conversation, thinking little ears would pick up on the topic. I even pulled the money card. "Your aunt makes more money than I do, that's why your cousins get more presents. I cannot afford to buy everything on your list. " Still the subject was a moot point.
Christmas morning we were unwrapping all of our presents. I was holding my breath waiting for the question that never came. The wrapping paper went unnoticed, the tags were not even a blip on the radar. Even when my husband said, I didn't put any candy in your stocking because you asked me not to, nothing was said. My children were blissfully ignorant to all of my scheming.
I give up. I will let them live in this state of blissful ignorance. I suppose there is nothing really wrong with it after all. They are happy. They love Christmas and all the magic of the holiday season. They still believe if you are a good person, good things will come to you. I hope they never stop believing in that one. You win Santa. You can stick around. You can take call the credit for me running around like a madwoman every holiday season looking for that random toy that Maddie wants and no one has, you can be the bringer of candy and junk that I try to limit in the house. You can still be part of the reason for the season. Maybe my life will be less stressful if I believe in imagination and wonder just a little bit more.
One final note, watch out Easter Bunny. I'm gunning for you this spring, your eggs are numbered.
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