A Picture (Ornament) Says A Thousand Words

When Sweetie was an infant at his first Christmas, I did what many parents do and had professional holiday pictures taken of him.  He couldn't even sit up yet, so I had the laying-down-on-the-fuzzy [blanket/rug/bean bag] photo done with him in his white turtleneck and red Christmas tartan overalls snuggling with a teddy bear in a big red bow.  It was challenging to get a decent picture; he was really sleepy and I really wanted one of him awake.  It took a few tries ... I would give him his pacifier to settle him down, and the sucking would make him drowsy, then I would reach over to take the pacifier out and get out of the frame quickly, while the photographer snapped furiously before the squawking began.  Ultimately we got a cute picture ... but he definitely looks sleepy.  Every time I look at that picture I remember that day and smile.

Also like many parents, especially with my first child, I bought a gazillion prints in all sizes.  Seriously, my child is the most beautiful child in the world and everyone else loves him as much as I do, right?  Of COURSE they want their very own 8 x 10 for the wall, 5 x 7 for the desk, and a wallet to show off to friends.  The Ex and I combined have a small family, so I always had way too many pictures left over.  While trying to come up with ideas of what to do with some of the extras, I decided to put one in an empty picture frame ornament someone had given me.  I didn't know it at the time, but a new tradition started that very day.

When I unpacked my ornaments the next year, I looked at that picture ornament of my 3-month old son and smiled.  "Awwww, look how cute and little he was.  I remember that day."  And then I looked at my then-15 month old son who was "helping" me decorate by shoving tissue paper in his mouth, emptying boxes of decorations, and tugging on strands of lights.  I was amazed at how different he looked.  I thought it would be fun to make a picture ornament of him at 15 months, and then compare those first two years with what he would look like at 27 months the following year.  So I did, and I've done it every year.

When Stinker was born, things changed a little.  I was much busier when the second one came along ... I was chasing a 2 year old, working full-time, and when Christmas rolled around, I was going through a divorce.  I didn't have as many professional pictures taken of Stinker when he was a baby because of the craziness that was my life, and I certainly didn't buy as many, but I was determined to keep the tradition going.  As I scoured the few pictures that I had (in comparison to Sweetie's pictures at his first Christmas), I was challenged to find one that was appropriate for an ornament.  I simply didn't have as many to choose from; I didn't take as many, and by then everything had gone digital so I didn't have paper photos laying around.  Most shots were in close up.  When I was looking through my cache of "leftover" professional photos for a cute picture of Stinker, I stumbled across a wallet-sized picture of both boys at Sweetie's third birthday.  They were both wearing Hawaiin shirts and denim shorts and they looked so cute, so I decided to put that one in a frame ornament, too.  A new tradition was born.

Now, every year, I add 3 new ornaments to my collection: one of Sweetie, one of Stinker, and one of the two of them together.  I have pictures of them at a character breakfast at Disneyland, in Halloween costumes, and in professional portrait poses.  I have school pictures, soccer pictures, and candid photos.  As I type this, I have 21 ornament frames (not counting the ones they have made for me over the years) hanging on my tree.  And the candidates for this year's new ornaments have been selected ...

On this eve of Christmas, it warms my heart to sit in the quiet, look at my tree, and enjoy all of those smiling pictures of my children looking back at me.  Peace on Earth.  God bless us every one.

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year?

Do you remember that Andy Williams song?  I can't remember what it's called, but it's on one of the Christmas albums, probably from the 70s.  My mother used to play the Andy Williams albums while she was decorating the house for Christmas, and we used to watch all of the Christmas specials.  I think he's got a regular show in Branson.  I should try to go see him before he dies.  Anyway, this phrase is on my mind for a number of reasons, mostly because Christmas carols are playing all around me, and that inevitably triggers my Andy Williams Christmas memories.  And this song always pops into my head.  But truthfully, this ISN'T the most wonderful time of the year for me.  At least  not any more. 

My kids are still little, so I still get to you enjoy the marvel and magic of the season through my children's eyes, and for that I am grateful.  It definitely makes me warm and fuzzy, and I can physically feel my heart warm up.  But this is a hard time of year for me when I am away from my children and alone with my thoughts.  The Ex and I split six years ago now, and I've recovered from just about everything ... except the holidays.  I don't decorate the house like I used to because I am just too tired to do it all myself, especially working full-time and having the children at least 80% of the time.  It's a lot of work!  I went from real trees to an artificial tree because it is too hard for me to go get a real tree, get it home and put it up ... by myself.  We haven't had lights on the outside of our house in six years. I don't bake like I used to because there is no one around to eat it.  I still decorate, just not as much.  I still put up a tree. I still bake and decorate cookies.  I've done my best ... I even go so far as to invite him and his son from his first marriage to my home on Christmas morning to watch the children open their presents from Santa.  He accepts my invitation each year... except the one year he had a live-in girlfriend and I told him she was not invited.

It's during this time of year that my residual anger about my divorce resurfaces.  I blame the Ex that our children do not have the kinds of Christmases I had as a kid.  I blame the Ex that we don't have a bunch of "family" celebrations and parties.  I blame the Ex that I don't look forward to Christmas morning anymore.  I blame the Ex that I am left alone on Christmas Day.  Though I have my children on Christmas morning - something most divorced parents do not have on alternating years - I don't get to relax and enjoy it.  Instead, I have to be ready to receive as a guest the one person who makes me the most uncomfortable and the two people who hold my kids' interest more than I do. I have to sit and watch as my children forget that I am there because they are so thrilled to see their daddy and their big brother.  I barely have time to help get their toys out of the twist ties and screws before they are getting dressed and heading off with daddy to his family's celebration, and they don't even say goodbye.  And then I am left all alone with a mess and my thoughts. 

This year I've decided to take back my Christmas morning.  I expressly told him he is not invited to come over for Santa presents.  He didn't question it because he thinks he knows why I've done it.  He doesn't.  I want to lounge around in my pajamas, drinking coffee and watching my kids open their presents.  I want to have a pleasant breakfast.  I want to have them show me how everything works.  In short, I want to feel INCLUDED in Christmas morning.  Is it selfish?  Probably.  But I've been a Christmas martyr for six years now.  He stooped to having the kids ask me if he could come over so I was truthful with them.  I told them I feel left out when daddy is there because they forget about me and it makes me sad.  Sweetie asked me if am "jealous" of daddy.  I don't think "jealous" is the right word, but maybe it is.  But I told him I AM jealous because I love them so much and I want to have fun with them on Christmas morning.  The Ex will come and take them at 11:00 as he does every year.  They will spend the day with their daddy, their brother, their grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins as they do every year. He will keep them for however many days he wants to keep them after Christmas, as he does every year.  They will be with him when the new year starts, as they are every year. 

I'm determined to get my "most wonderful time of the year" back!

Perpetuating the Myth and Salvaging the Story?

Sweetie is at the age where he asks if everything is "real" or "fake" so of course he has been asking about Santa Claus. Luckily, he is in a year-round school, and he is "off track" from just before Thanksgiving until after the first of the year, so I am not battling all of his killjoy peers and their nasty little tales of parental lies and deception. And, as I have mentioned before, he totally believes in magic.

So we've been counting down the days to Christmas Eve with our advent calendar. We've been talking about the story of Christmas and the birth of Jesus (prompted by a nativity scene in a neighbor's yard). He has asked for, and I have shared, stories of Christmases when I was a little girl. He was horrified by the trick my father played on me when I was 8; he led me to believe that my Big Wheel didn't come with all of its pieces, and you can't make returns to Santa, so I was just out of luck. He loved the story about the Christmas when I received two live finches ... I kept hearing this "peep peep" sound while we were opening presents but never noticed the cage. He didn't know Santa could bring you pets!! He was intrigued by my older sister's claim that she got out of bed one year because she heard something; the presents were under the tree and she saw Santa's boot as it disappeared out our front door. (She is nearly 50, and SWEARS to this day that she saw Santa's boot walking out our door.) We talked a little about Santa, but not as much as you would think considering all of his questions about everything else.

Out of Sweetie's mouth, here's the skinny on Santa: He was a real person, a long time ago, but new guys become Santa when the current Santa gets too old, and it just keeps going from new guy to new guy so we always have a Santa. (Hhhmmm ... has someone been watching The Santa Clause?) Santa doesn't live at the North Pole all the time - only when he is getting ready for Christmas - but the elves live there all the time; that's why they have those funny ears. He isn't sure where Santa lives, but it has to be someplace warmer than the North Pole. Santa is magic; he makes his reindeer fly, he makes his sleigh fly, he can magically make chimneys big enough for him to climb down and up, he has a magic key that opens doors to homes that do not have fireplaces, and he has that magic bag ... it's kind of like Mary Poppins' bag; it looks really small, but it can hold every single toy that every child in the world has put on his or her wish list. Oh, and Santa can stop time ... duh, how else could he get around the entire world in one night? The magic kind of "freaks [him] out" - that's why he doesn't want to go see Santa and get close to him. And by the way, even though those Santas in malls are not real - Santa hires guys to pretend to be him because he is too busy at work - maybe those mall guys have some kind of magic, too. He isn't sure, but he doesn't want to risk it. Santa doesn't make toys; his elves buy them at stores. Rudolph, though a real and magic reindeer, does not have a red nose that lights up. Rudolph's nose is red, but it's red like the one Dale has from Disney's Chip N' Dale. Rudolph wears a red flashlight on his halter!!

After we toured our neighborhood to look at lights, baked fresh cookies, sprinkled reindeer food on the lawn (oatmeal with glitter, so the reindeer can see the sparkles from the sky and know there are kids here), and got dressed in our Christmas pajamas, I heard him talking to his very best friend "Puppy" - a polka-dotted stuffed dog he has had for more than 5 years - and telling him "he's coming, he's coming, we have to go to sleep."

In years past, we have written letters to Santa, and received letters from Santa and/or Mrs. Claus, but this year he simply was not interested. Instead, he chose to tell his wish list to one of his worry dolls. He is 100% confident that his worry doll will take care of things for him, and he will get that one thing he really really wants. The problem? Because he didn't write it down anywhere, I am not 100% certain what he "really really" wants. I had to make an educated guess.

I just heard a clatter outside, and when I went to check it out, I noticed my Christmas tree has a ton of presents under it that weren't there before. And according to http://www.noradsanta.org/, Santa was in my area while I've been sitting here writing this blog. Though I believe in the spirit of Santa, I have always thought I was perpetuating a myth. Maybe I've been wrong; maybe my son is salvaging the story for me. Christmas just isn't the same if you don't have Santa in your life.

Happy Christmas.