Diosa, Trouble, and the Holiday Spirit

Trouble--that's how I refer to my oldest--is eight going on fifteen. Really, he'll be nine in April, but he has all the sass of a tween, all the angst of a tortured adolescent, and all the whine of a sick two-year-old. He has a girlfriend now.

She wants to kiss, he tells us.

I told him he can't kiss until he's fifteen. Blackstone, my husband, told him he can't kiss until he's thirty. Slightly harsh in my opinion. Trouble was nonplussed.

"You're just jealous," he responded, "because no one wanted to kiss you when you were eight."

Um. Burnnnnnnnn!

Have to hand it to him, kid's got style. And timing. It's seriously impressive. There's a part of me that can't help bursting with pride. It may or may not be the same part of me that wants to cut out his tongue with a carving knife on occasion.

No, seriously, I'm joking. And since DCYF is likely just one more pumpkin carving mishap away, let's keep it close to the vest. Especially since that last complaint from Trouble to his teacher about how abusive his parents are.

True story.

My point is, Trouble's already at that age. You know the one. The one where all innocence is about to be lost forever? Right now, he is still very much a wide-eyed, completely trusting, little boy. But while Trouble is still a goofy hair-free kid, I can already smell the stench that is puberty approaching on some of his friends.

This is Trouble's crucial Christmas year. He still believes, but it's tenuous, tainted with rising doubts, pockmarked with reality.

We brought the boys on the Polar Express ride this year. The Newport Dinner Train puts it on. It's about a 30-minute ride to the North Pole. Then Santa gets on the train and rides back to Newport with you, because who doesn't want to go to Newport?

Hot cocoa and cookies are part of the fare. You can order dinner off a limited, but reasonably priced, menu. And they do serve beer and wine, because let's admit it, the whole experience for parents is a little more enjoyable with a glass of Merlot.

The trip is nothing earth shattering, and certainly nothing as impressive as the movie. If you're expecting the waiters to dance on the ceilings and create tables out of table cloths, you'll be sorely disappointed. However, there are Christmas tattoos for the kids, activity books, a sing-a-long with maracas, and a visit from Santa himself.

And of course every kid gets a bell from Santa's sleigh to wear around their necks.

 

I wasn't sure how Trouble was going to respond, in all honesty. But he loved it. He's been telling everyone about how he took the Polar Express to the North Pole. It definitely helped reaffirm his belief. It was truly heart warming. I overheard Trouble asking his best friend if he still believed in Santa. Trouble rang his bell for him to see if he could hear it.

I know that as a kid, I kept believing in Santa until I was about twelve, way past the time when my subconscious knew the truth, but I was loath to let it go. I wasn't at all worried about not getting presents or anything like that, but somehow not believing in Santa was giving up on all magic, almost on hope itself. I couldn't let it go.

And in some ways, I've never stopped.

I still believe that beneath all the commercialism, toys, candy and food, there's something special about Christmas. Every year while I'm racing around decorating, baking, shopping, wrapping, writing out cards--I remind myself that this is all worth it. Sometimes--most of the time--I have my doubts. It just feels like another job. And the stresses of paying for all the presents, of how I'm going to get it all done, can induce a level of anxiety just this side of a heart attack.

And they're getting harder to shop for. They mark things in the Toys-R-Us catalog like X-boxes, iPods, DVD players, laptops, dozens of video games, motorized vehicles...

They're not getting all that.

Santa is generous. He's not a rich, immoral uncle with an endless bank account devoted to spoiling little boys to the point of  inducing brain damage, while most certainly degrading moral fiber and work ethic.

But I try to remember that it's not about all that at all. It's really about the gift of magic and hope you're giving to your kids. And if they're getting so big that nothing's going to do that short of a Lamborghini or some bling, well, you might as well realize that your little kid is not so little anymore.

So, I feel I better make the most of this Christmas with Trouble, while he's still full of hope and belief. Even if that hope and belief is almost lost in his constant complaining and sarcasm.

And there's always LT, Little Trouble, who's five. I've still got a couple of good years left in him. You know, if his older, wiser, and corrupted older brother doesn't spoil it for him early.

Ah, the joys of Christmas. I can hear the angels singing now.

(And, no, you don't need to point out where he gets it from.)

Comments

[Polly]

I remember when cabbage patch kids were popular and impossible to get; the original must-have-for-Christmas but supplies-are-limited craze. I was desperate for one. And I remember my mother explaining that they were hard to find and she wanted me to know that if I didn't get one for Christmas, she'd get me one after, so please don't be disappointed.

I told her, in my most confident and reassuring eight-year-old voice, that she needn't worry. You see, I'd asked Santa and I was sure I had been good. She could just check it off her list because Santa was bound to have me covered.

No pressure.

The parent I grew up to be cringes at the thought of it. And so I decided, after years of careful thought and internal debate, that I would perpetuate the Santa myth but only as a myth. Only instead of using the grownup concept of myth, I explain it to Secret Lulu as a game.

We play the Santa game. We like to pretend we believe in magic but we know it's not really real. No one can really get down our chimney (as a child, I was terrified by the threat of "sees you when you're sleeping, knows when you're awake"), and parents are the ones who sneak around acting the part of Santa, hiding presents and stuffing stockings.

Secret Lulu still seems as excited by the whole thing as I ever was as a kid, which is pretty darn excited. And when she gets old enough to ask for electronics, I'll explain budgets to her. Because the game is fun, but it's not free.

[Pandora]

I believed in Santa until I was 9 years old and sometimes I wish that I still did just for the fun of it. I got my sister to believe until she was like 11, so really it was until I was 13 when I finally had to let go. I also remember the day of circling every toy I wanted in the catalogs. Now, it's gotten to the point where I never ask for anything because I don't know what I want.

Trouble reminds me of my 8 year old. She's not really mine, but I've been babysitting her since she was 4. She's full of sass and does that head bobbing thing while chanting in a sarcastic tone. I blame too much Hannah Montana. Every time I come over, she tells me about her "boyfriend." She's had at least 25 since she was 6. She tells me how they kiss on the playground.I didn't kiss a boy until I was 16 and couldn't even fathom the thought of putting my tongue in someone's mouth until I was 13.

[Alice the Grinch]

I've always wanted to not do the whole Santa shenanigans with Toby. His Dad trumped me on that one, he says I can't ruin it.
I just don't see the point in getting the kid to believe in a fairy tale just to be let down later.

Cole is 9 now and very suspicious of the whole thing and it seems a little silly to be lying to a perfectly reasonable 9 year old who prefaces the Santa question by saying "Will you answer me honestly".

Our kids are already living in a lucky little fairy tale land anyhow, which is great, but I don't see the need to amplify it with fairy tales on a holiday that doesn't even hold much meaning to me.

Go ahead, call me Scrooge.

[Diosa]

@Polly - I can totally see your point. But believing in magic was always the best part of Christmas for me. Way better than the presents, decorations and everything.

@Pandora - Everything I ask for at Christmas now if very practical - a new comforter, a Kitchenaid mixer, new silverware. And kids do seem to be growing up faster.

@Alice - It's very tempting to just not bother with the whole thing. I often wonder if we'd all just do better off to skip the whole thing from the beginning. But, I just love magic.

[The Model]

I mentioned in the Dol's thread how I was raised Hare Krishna but we still celebrated Christmas (and Easter), so Christmas was already weird for me. But here's the thing. My mom was just not all that committed to the Santa act. I remember one morning when I was like 7, Santa slept in. The cover story was that he had left our stuff at my mom's friend's house instead (which was actually Rex's house--our moms were friends when we were kids). So, I know that I definitely knew Santa wasn't real at that point. I'm not even sure if I ever really believed it.

Additionally, when we were kids, my brothers and I each got a $500 check as a Christmas present from my grandfather (he was a Texas oil tycoon), so we could just pretty much get whatever we wanted with that.

As for my kids, there will be no Santa. We've never celebrated Christmas with them, but I'm sure they will be involved in some Christmases to come and will get Christmas presents (and have always gotten Christmas presents in the mail from my relatives). So, I'm happy that I'm cleared of that. I probably wouldn't be any better at it than my own mother was.

[The Dol]

My five-year-old figured it out a few weeks ago. We were in the car, and she said, "I've been thinking about it, and I don't think there is a Santa. I know that reindeer can't fly, and I don't think magic is real either."

I was sort of relieved, because there was a part of me that always felt a little uncomfortable perpetuating the myth, as much as I *love* the myth.

So, I took a page out of Polly's book and said we're just going to pretend about Santa. She'll still get goodies in her stocking and presents that weren't there when she went to sleep on Christmas Eve.

She's totally fine with it, and so am I. Oh, and I believed until I was about 8, so I was really surprised that she figured it out so young.

[Mattie]

Wow...maybe I am feeling a bit blue today or nostalgic but this is one of the best posts I have ever read.

Thanks for reminding me of Christmas past, and as far as the kissing. I feel like I haven't been kissing since I was 30 so I say get them while you can!

[Bookgirl]

I stopped believing in Santa in the first grade. I was playing hide and seek right before Easter and found some presents that were obviously for me, so I figured they were my Easter presents from my older sister (she's 19 years older than I am). I didn't tell anyone I had seen them. Imagine my surprise when they showed up Easter morning from the Easter Bunny. I looked at my parents and said, "There's no such thing as the Tooth Fairy or Santa either, is there?"

That said, I refused to let my mother put any presents under the tree until after I had gone to bed on Christmas Eve, because I loved that "Santa came!" feeling of waking up and seeing all those presents that hadn't been there when I went to bed. We kept this up until I was in my early 20s, when she just flat-out refused.

I totally get why some people wouldn't teach their kids that there was a Santa, but just the thought of that makes me sad. I LOVE the magic of Christmas. I will go to elaborate lengths so that my children will believe as long as humanly possible. If I try really hard, and watch enough made-for-tv Christmas movies, I almost start to believe again myself.

[Diosa]

@Model - I suppose if it was never that magical for you, there's not much incentive for you to try to perpetuate the myth with your kids.

@Mattie - Glad you enjoyed it. We're always aiming to be entertaining. I agree about kissing while you can, it's just easier to say that when it's not your little boy or girl.

@Bookgirl - I remember finding presents too, but I turned my head the other way and kept on believing anyway. I just wanted it that badly. Deep down, I feel like I always knew.