Merry Christmas!

Christmas! The very word brings joy to our hearts. No matter how we may dread the rush, the long Christmas lists for gifts and cards to be bought and given – when Christmas Day comes there is still the same warm feeling we had as children, the same warmth that enfolds our hearts and our homes.

~ Joan Winmill Brown

Merry Christmas, Y'all!

If You Don't Believe...

"Even though she was a grown woman, she believed in elves and Santa Claus and flying reindeer and sacks with an endless capacity for toys.  Furthermore, she believed that believing in these things was the chief reason that she had more Fun in Life than others."

Now I'm not saying that I have more fun in life than others, but I certainly do believe in the magic of elves and Santa Claus and flying reindeer and sacks with an endless capacity for toys.  And for this, I give credit to my mom.

Growing up (and now that I think about it, in all my 30-some years), my mom NEVER once told or "admitted" to me or my little sister that Santa Claus was any less than 100% real.  No, she never ignored us.  And no, she never lied to us.  With a twinkle in her eye and love in her voice, she simply answered our questions with, "If you don't believe, he won't come."  I believed, and he came.  

As Christians, we will never lose sight of "the reason for the season".  Both Will and Hallie understand and keep ever in their hearts and minds - perhaps better than I do at times - the fact that Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus.  (Speaking of, Hallie suggested that she and I purchase Baby Jesus a pair of ice skates for his birthday this year.  Not yet sure how to address that one.)

But we will also never lose sight of the magic and love - the magic and love that come from giving to others - that Santa Claus brings to this special time of year.  Santa Claus teaches children how to believe in something they cannot see or touch, and is a reminder to children that they are special and loved.   I will never ignore my children's questions, nor will I ever answer their questions with lies.  But I will also never be the one to take Santa Claus away from them.

Following my mom's lead, when my children ask me if Santa is real, I will answer - with a twinkle in my eye and love in my voice - "If you don't believe, he won't come."

Flashback Friday: Santa's Lap

I haven't done a Flashback Friday in quite a while, but decided to fit in one more before the end of 2012, this time taking a look back at pictures of my kids posing with Santa.

2006
Will was about two months old, and we visited Santa at the mall in Madison, Wisconsin.  That Santa was kind of creepy.

2007
Will was just over a year old, and we visited the same Santa in Madison.  Santa was just as creepy as he'd been the previous year, and while Will wasn't scared of Santa, he was less-than-interested in sitting on his lap and/or smiling for the camera.

2008
Will was two years old, and we visited Santa at the mall in Ann Arbor, Michigan.  Ann Arbor Santa was significantly more pleasant than Madison Santa and Will was more cooperative than he'd been in previous years, so all in all, I consider 2008 a success.

2009
Will was three years old and Hallie was eight month old, and we returned to our Ann Arbor Santa.  Hallie found Santa to be funny and cuddly, but Will pitched the mother of all hissy fits and refused to go anywhere near him (this was one of the only times in his life when Will didn't respond to bribes) which is why our 2009 picture is only of Hallie.  She looks pretty cute though, doesn't she?

2010
We were selling our house, driving back and forth between Michigan and Nebraska for Thanksgiving, moving to Texas, and driving back and forth between Texas and Illinois for Christmas, so sadly, the kids didn't get to sit on Santa's lap in 2010.

2011
Will was five years old and Hallie was two-and-a-half years old, and they sat on Santa's lap at their preschool's annual Dinner with Santa fundraising event.  No one cried, and both kids told Santa what they wanted for Christmas and smiled for the camera.  It was glorious.  (And kind of funny - for some reason they both thought they were supposed to do their "prayer hands" while they sat on Santa's lap.)

2012
Will is six years old and Hallie is three-and-a-half years old, and their annual Santa picture was once again taken at their (now only Hallie's) preschool's Dinner with Santa fundraising event.  It seems they now have the hang of the process, as they both waiting their turn, introduced themselves to Santa, told him what they wanted for Christmas, climbed into his lap, smiled for the camera, and bid Santa farewell...all without prompting from me.  They seemed so grown up.

I hate that I missed 2010, and have resolved not to miss another year until they start arguing with me about sitting on Santa's lap.  (I certainly hope that circumstance is many years away, and if Will and Hallie are anything like me, it will be...I took pics with Santa through college, and if I looked hard enough I could probably find the picture Tom and I took with Santa just before we started dating in 2001.)

Ho, ho, ho!

12 Days of Christmas

After a particularly challenging day in the world of parenting, I sat down and wrote new lyrics to the festive Christmas carol, The 12 Days of Christmas. Singing it to myself (while rocking back and forth and covering my ears with my hands) helped me feel slightly better.

On the first day of Christmas, my children gave to me: a gigantic apology.

On the second day of Christmas my children gave to me: two broken toes.

On the third day of Christmas my children gave to me: three orange juice spills.

On the fourth day of Christmas my children gave to me: four carpet stains.

On the fifth day of Christmas my children gave to me: five sleepless nights!

On the sixth day of Christmas my children gave to me: six loads of laundry.

On the seventh day of Christmas my children gave to me: seven runny noses.

On the eighth day of Christmas my children gave to me: eight migraine headaches.

On the ninth day of Christmas my children gave to me: nine sibling stand-offs.

On the tenth day of Christmas my children gave to me: ten public meltdowns.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my children gave to me: eleven screaming tantrums.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my children gave to me: enough fodder to fill a song twice this long.

But the next day – when my children awoke on the “right” side of the bed and as a result, the world looked a whole lot brighter to me – I wrote a second set of lyrics to the song.

On the first day of Christmas my children gave to me: enough love to last the whole year.

On the second day of Christmas my children gave to me: two hands to hold.

On the third day of Christmas my children gave to me: three homemade cards.

On the fourth day of Christmas my children gave to me: four great big hugs.

On the fifth day of Christmas my children gave to me: five "I love you"(s)!

On the sixth day of Christmas my children gave to me: six bouquets of flowers.

On the seventh day of Christmas my children gave to me: seven breakfasts in bed.

On the eighth day of Christmas my children gave to me: eight slobbery kisses.

On the ninth day of Christmas my children gave to me: nine ear-to-ear grins.

On the tenth day of Christmas my children gave to me: ten joyful giggles.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my children gave to me: eleven bedtime cuddles.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my children gave to me: twelve morning snuggles.

I REALLY hope I'm able to continue singing this version for the remainder of the holiday season...

Christmas Ornament Memory Lane

In general, I'm not a huge fan of photo ornaments.  The exception, however, are the photo ornaments the kids make at school, because these lovingly handmade ornaments document the kids as they grow each year, from how big they were to what to their smiles looked like to how advanced (or not) their art skills and creativity.

This post should probably have been a Flashback Friday, but since there's only one more Friday between now and Christmas and I already have a different series of flashback photos planned for that day, I'm going to throw these photo ornament flashback photos up here today.  It's a lovely walk down memory lane for me.

The kids' photo ornaments start in 2008, when Will was two years old, as that was the first year we had him/them enrolled in a daycare/preschool during the holidays.  Unfortunately we don't have any photo ornaments from 2010; we were moving and the kids were "school-less" during the month of December.  

This photo is blurry because the photo in the frame
is blurry, and the frame is a piece of junk - completely tarnished
and scratched.  I keep it anyway though, as the photo is of
Tom and me on our first Christmas as a married couple.

Will, two years old in 2008.  (The ornament is a snowman.)

Will, three years old in 2009.  (The ornament is a Christmas tree,
and his face is in the gift box under the tree.)

Hallie, eight months old in 2009.  (The ornament
 is a reindeer.  A confused reindeer.)

Will, five years old in 2011.   (The ornament
is a Christmas tree.)

Hallie, two-and-a-half years old in 2011.
(The ornament is an elf.  An uncomfortable elf.)

In 2006 - the year Will was born - I started a tradition of giving Tom and Will (and then Hallie too) a new ornament when we decorated our Christmas tree.  My goal is always to capture in the ornament the character, experience, or activity that captured their hearts that year.  Here are a few of my favorites. 

As a three-year-old, Will was obsessed with pirates.
(Here and here.)

In 2011 - our first full year in Texas - pepper-loving
Tom received this Christmas tree made
of hot peppers and wearing a cowboy hat.

In 2011 and after our trip to Disney World, Hallie
couldn't get enough Minnie Mouse. (Here.)

This year, my little Tink received her own Tinkerbell ornament.

This year I FINALLY found Tom a disc golf ornament.

And this year, Will loves him some Tom & Jerry.

Tom always buys me an ornament as well (though he usually forgets and has to run out to quickly find one once I suggest that we decorate the Christmas tree that evening).  I didn't take any pictures of the ornaments he's given me, because - while he means well - they're often a little, well, different.  For example, I've been obsessed with The Hunger Games since June (here and here).  Just about everyone I encounter knows this, so there's no way that someone living with me couldn't know that.  I mean, the kids know, and they made sure Tom knew so that he'd buy/make me a Katniss cake for my birthday.  But when it came time to find me an ornament, Tom didn't purchase me a Hunger Games or a Katniss or a bow and arrow ornament...he bought me a Charles Woodson (who plays for the Green Bay Packers) ornament.  Don't get me wrong - I love football and I love the Packers (especially when they wear cowboy hats), but I don't even know what position Charles Woodson plays.  (Don't hate me, Packer fans.)

I'm not complaining.  At all.  I love that Tom scrambles at the last minute to find something I'll like.  But I'm going to just put it out there now - in 2013 I want a Twilight Christmas ornament for my tree.

"Happy Holidays"

I come from, as my aunt so eloquently puts it, the "land of the perpetually offended". At some point I'll write more about this title, and provide you with examples proving its appropriateness, but for today I'll stick with how the title relates to religion and the holiday season.

In the plus column, the population of Madison is a gorgeous and colorful blend of ethnicities, religions, and political viewpoints. In the negative column, some Madisonians are so obsessed with the need to give EVERY SINGLE different group equal standing, or in extreme cases, simply erase the standing that ALL groups hold, that many traditions - holiday and otherwise - have been forced out.

There is such a fear of offending others (and rightfully so, because people get offended easily and are then unkind about it - I've seen it happen) that the well wishes usually accompanying this time of year have all but disappeared. "Happy Holidays" is acceptable, but heaven forbid you actually wish someone a "Merry Christmas".

While scanning Pinterest last week, I came across a photo of a hand-written note on this topic.

I don't understand what the big deal is.

If you are Jewish, tell me "Happy Hanukkah".
If you are Christian, tell me "Merry Christmas".
If you are African American, tell me "Happy Kwanza".
If you don't prefer those, tell me "Happy Holidays".

I will not be offended. I will be thankful that you took the time to say something nice to me.

I COMPLETELY agree.  I would be in no way offended if someone wished me a "Happy Kwanza".  I would in no way feel like someone was forcing their religion on me if they wished me a "Happy Hanukkah".  And I hope that if I wished someone who wasn't Christian a "Merry Christmas", they wouldn't be offended and wouldn't feel like I was forcing my religion on them.

Out of habit after spending the first 18 years of my life in Madison, I often still wish those with whom I cross paths "Happy Holidays".  But I LOVE to wish people "Merry Christmas" and love that it's "acceptable" - as in I won't receive eye rolls or scowls or even nasty words in response - to do so where we live now.

Note: For the record, I don't think that "Merry Christmas" is more acceptable here because there aren't any people who belong to other religions living here.  Yes, College Station is less diverse than Madison.  But I'd be willing to wager that half of the people with whom Tom works - faculty, staff, and students from around the world - don't celebrate Christmas, and the woman driving this fabulously car certainly doesn't.  I only wish I could have seen her two menorahs lit up at night!

Where Do We Go From Here?

As I write, I have on in the background a television news program on which the host and his guests are discussing gun violence, control, and safety. As these well-educated and well-spoken Americans converse about the massacre that took place in Connecticut on Friday as well as the larger issue(s) this kind of violence brings to light, I am only confused. I believe the conversation must include a discussion about the 2nd Amendment, but I am in no way prepared - emotionally, mentally, or intellectually - to participate in such a discussion at this time because I can't find my own footing.

I've also read quite a few opinion pieces about how mass violence in our country can be tied to the absence of faith, spirituality, and God in our schools and/or the "fame" we bestow upon those who commit these heinous crimes. As with the issue of gun control/safety, I am torn.

I do, however, know exactly where I stand on mental illness.

As someone who at one time suffered from a mental health condition (severe postpartum depression, lasting for close to 18 months after Will was born), I strongly believe that decreasing our country's violence epidemic must include - at least to some extent - a change in how we address mental health issues. We MUST raise awareness about mental health conditions and promote mental wellness. We MUST shine a spotlight on the advocacy, education, and services provided by our country's mental health agencies. We MUST make mental health services available to all citizens, and we MUST make it easier and more culturally acceptable to receive help than to spread hurt.

This blog post - composed by a mother of a 13-year-old son with an undiagnosed mental illness - is one of the most important pieces of writing to come across my computer screen in months. Please take a moment to read her story - she simply and clearly illustrates why addressing mental health issues and healing our country go hand in hand.

My heart is breaking for and my thoughts and prayers are with the families of those whose lives were cut short last Friday.  There are simply no words.

On a related note, my sincerest thanks goes out to the police officers and firefighters involved in both the immediate and long-term aftermath of this horrific event, and to the secondary responders - like American Red Cross volunteers - providing support to those on the front lines.