Proof!

Just to prove I am not entirely anti-Santa, here:

But what I really want to know is this: what happened to the Polaroid Santa pictures that we took stumbling through the mall at the last minute as children? I don't know how much my parents paid for them, but I'll tell ya right now it wasn't $24.99 for an enhanced CD image. We weren't at a studio, for crying out loud. It was the Mission Viejo Mall. But there were seriously like 8 workers (elves?) there with the lights and the camera(s) and the flashing toys to get the kids to smile and of course, someone to ring up your purchase. They even take Visa. Now, you can bring your own camera, but you must purchase a package, as well.

The worst is the line. It snakes around fake Christmas tree after fake Christmas tree, filled with whiney 3-year-olds with spit-shined hair-do's, shiny patent leather shoes and what have you. Then there were the two boys dressed like Christmas elves. Red and white striped stockings.

I admit; I did put the girls in cuter than normal outfits (which translates into NOT sweats and NOT poop stains) but Grace peed on her denim dress in the car (I hate Christmas traffic) so we went with the blue sweats. Natalie freaked out when she could tell I was planning on putting her down on a stranger's lap, so I quickly surmised that a Grace alone picture would be more realistic. I was NOT going to do the flashing lights spinning toy thing with Natalie.

All snarkiness aside, it was actually a fun first go at the Christmas ritual. And my other reason for blogging about it is to share that when I asked Grace if she wanted to go "take a picture with a man pretending to be Santa,*" she nodded and asked, "Shall we bring Santa a present?" She actually took one out from under our tree to give to him. We decided to bring him a glass jar with cocoa mix (who am I kidding? It's just Nestle Hot Chocolate) and some candies for the "elves." And in the car, before the peeing incident, she asked me quite sincerely, "Who is Santa's mommy? Is it Mary?"

All of this leads me to believe that the best is to leave Santa entirely out of it for the first cognizant Christmas. Bring him in later when you can distinguish him more clearly from the real reason for the season, and also when you can explain St. Nicholas.

Merry Christmas, everyone!


*Or, "a man pretending to be a person we pretend exists." But whatever.

A telling statement about our household

We're reading "Love you forever," by Robert Munsch. Grace knows it so well that she can often fill in the blanks if I let her. So we're reading the part about the 2-year-old driving his mother crazy. He runs around the house; he pulls all the books off the shelves, and he pulls all the food out of the refrigerator. He even flushes his mother's watch down the toilet! The next line is, "Sometimes the mother would say, 'This kid is driving me crazy!'" So here's what happened as I let Grace fill in the blank:

me: "sometimes the mother would say..."

Grace: "Bad words."*

I kid you not.

*OK, so to be fair, there is another line in the story about the 9-year-old boy saying bad words. But still.

Adventures in Christmas Family Rituals

Since I am now officially "anti-Santa*," (see previous post) I have decided to elevate the other, more meaningful (or at least less materialistic) traditions of the holidays. Tonight we head to Balboa Island for the Boat Parade. I am searching for a sticker-based Advent calendar as we speak (yes, I realize it is a little late!). And we have resurrected the Santa Lucia tradition this year, thanks to a book that Grandpa Gary and Pops bought Grace and Natalie (oh, crap, that's me blogging about my dad again).

Lucia Day is celebrated in Sweden on December 13th to honor St. Lucy and is a fun Christmastime ritual in Swedish families. We make traditional foods, like peparkakor (ginger snaps) and Lussekatt buns (saffron bread), and a daughter in the family dresses up like Lucia wearing a wreath crown with candles on it. The children then bring these special treats, with coffee and hot chocolate, to their parents in bed. The whole family often repeats the ritual at their neighbors’ homes, bringing cookies to remind us to “share the light” like Lucia did. You can read more about Lucia Day and St. Lucy here and here.

A sweet tradition, no? Grace became obsessed with Lucia after reading the book her grandparents gave her, and I was inspired to be a creative, crafty stay-at-home mom and do the whole Lucia thing. Lussekat buns and all. Never mind I don't have a crafty bone in my body. Nevermind that I've never cooked with yeast before. No, I can handle it! Afterall, suburban SAHM's are judged by two things only.
#1: how cute your kids are in their Halloween costumes, and
#2: how crafty you are at the holidays.

The plans were great but the execution left something to be desired. My plan to make the food items from scratch resulted in tastey, albeit chewy Lussekater. Rolling out ginger snap dough with a crying 8 month old glued to my leg was also interesting. I also figured that a trip to Michael's and a heart to heart with a craft specialist there would result in the Best. Lucia. Crown. Ever. I apparently had way overestimated the availabilty and skills of said craft specialists. But undiscouraged, I came up with my own plan to cut a ring out of styrofoam board, stick holly pieces into it, and use a hot glue gun to adhere battery operated candles on top. I even remembered the batteries. It was beautiful, this crown. Everything was ready.

This is the best part. We set out to deliver our pepparkakor to the neighbors. I put the plates of cookies in the stroller, Natalie on my hip, and turned around in the driveway to see if Grace was coming with the crown afixed to her head. The crown began to wobble and I raced back to grab it, letting go of the stroller, of course. The stoller with cookies went flying into the street as I grabbed the crown, broke it in two, and the candles shattered in the driveway. This was my moment of stay-at-home mom craftiness glory?!

Grace was crying, and a few months ago when I was more emotional about every motherhood flaw, I would have joined her. But all I could do now was laugh at myself. Did I honestly think this whole thing was a good idea to try with a 2-year-old and an 8-month-old? Never having done any part of the tradition before? After sweeping up the glass and reconstructing a much more realistic crown make of silver garland and holly, and after resurrecting one of the candles for Grace to hold in her hand, we completed our delivery operation and even had a great Lucia morning of our own with Daddy and then with Grandpa Chuck and Grammy. Lussekat buns and all.

All in all, it was a successful first attempt. Next year, I might even try to learn the words to the song in Swedish. And I am definitely purchasing, not making, the Lucia crown.



*Okay, okay, I am not really anti-Santa altogether. Santa WILL come to our house this year and we WILL put out cookies and milk. But I absolutely love that when I ask Grace to sing a Christmas song, she half-sings, half-hums "Happy Birtday, dear Jesus." And I would rather have Grace and Natalie take turns pretending to be Santa and selflessly giving to others without the need for anything in return, than believe in a person whose only mission is to bring kids more stuff. Share thoughts and ideas, dear readers!!

The truth hurts.

Me, at about 9 years old: "Seriously, Mom. I know Santa isn't real. So just tell me the truth. Do you and Dad pretend to be Santa and put the presents out?" My lip was quivering as I tried to make my voice sound normal from the back seat of my mom's station wagon. It was a stroke of genius to ask when my mom couldn't actually see my face.

My mom must have been trying to read my voice and wasn't sure how to respond. "Honey, you know Santa comes every year." She was stalling.

"MOM! I already know. Just tell me." I was pleading with her for the truth on the outside, but inside, I was willing the fantasy to be real for just one more year.

She sighed and glanced at me over her shoulder. My face was hot as I leaned forward, putting my arms on the front seat. She began. "Dad and I get the gifts and put them out each year. But we do it to honor the spirit of Santa Claus, St. Nick, who gave without seeking thanks in return. Santa really does live on, every time we give others happiness at Christmas time. But is there a North pole factory with elves and flying reindeer? No."

Me, with my heart in my throat, sinking back in my seat, "Oh, well, that's what I already knew." Our eyes met through the rear view mirror and I forced a smile.

I probably added something to make her think that I was okay, like, "It must be fun to pretend to be Santa every year."

And she was probably relieved and said something like, "We can still put out the cookies and milk if you want."

And I probably looked out the window and said, "Sure."