, I would have had a lot more to fear while trying to stuff presents into the top of a closet that was clearly never designed for hiding Christmas gifts in mind. It was bad enough that I was taking my life into my own hands by trying to fit all these presents up onto this shelf. I didn't need to be angry as well. Doesn't Christmas come with enough frustrations? Shopping, traffic, that stupid light that manages to put out half the string, despite the advertisements that promise the rest will stay lit even when one light burns out? Did I really need to compound the matter?I couldn't help it! I don't lie to my kids! I might creatively dance around the truth, but I never lie! I mean, there are just some things that children aren't ready to know! I'd like to think it's okay to dance around the subject of how babies end up in a mom's belly with my children at this point. That topic's just a little more adult than I'm ready to tackle with a seven year old and a three year old. Still, I don't lie to them. It's not like I told them that the stork magically drops the baby off in the mother-to-be's belly or anything. It's just something that the mom and dad do together. That's about all they care to know right now, and that's about all I care to tell them!
However, when it comes to the whole Christmas thing, I've been accused of lying to my children! I mentioned my children couldn't wait to see what Santa brought them this year and this mother, suddenly adopting a superior attitude, informed me, "We don't believe in lying to our children. My children know very well there's no such thing as Santa. They've always known it was just a story." Her children, for anyone who is curious to know, are the same age as my older two.
I was shocked! Kids that didn't believe in Santa! More importantly, kids that didn't believe in the magic of Christmas? I can understand that there are some religions that prohibit concepts like Christmas and Santa, but if you're already celebrating Christmas and decorating your house with cute little Santa mugs and reindeer coasters, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to let your children indulge in a little of the magic of the season. It's one thing with your own family, but to then turn around and accuse me of lying to my children because I encourage them to imagine, to hold onto the fantasy and magic of it all?
For a split second, while I was moving all of my son's presents into one neat pile on the shelf, I thought that she was perhaps right. Maybe it was wrong to lie to my kids. Maybe I should just get it over with, tell them Santa's not real, that it's all just a story. Wouldn't it be better than lying to them? I'd had this thought several times before, but somehow with this sudden accusation, it really hit home.
I think the spirit of Christmas heard me on that one. Immediately four little bitty presents, just the size to be stocking stuffers, thought they would never see the inside of a stocking, tumbled off of the shelf they were securely tucked on, pelting me in the head. I have to say, I'm truly glad my aunt sent a lot of really small and light presents for my son because I think I would have suffered a concussion if it had been books or games to land on my head!
As I picked up the little packages, I realized the tape had popped on the end of one. I took that moment of distraction to check the other presents for tiny repairs to the wrapping job. Keeping presents wrapped without the tape giving or the packaging ripping for an extended period of time is hard enough! These packages all had the additional challenge of traveling half way across the country by mail. For that brief moment I stepped back from my thoughts, taking stock of the presents and assessing each for repairs that would need to be made as I pulled them all out to place them under the tree. Nothing was too serious, just a few popped pieces of tape and one small tear, nothing that couldn't be taken care of pretty easy.
The presents started going back up on the shelf and I started thinking about the whole thing again. I came to the conclusion that I really needed to figure out the root of this problem. After all, if I believe in Santa, the spirit of Christmas, and all of that, then how am I lying to my kids? It's no different than telling my children that God or any other higher power exists, though I've got no hard evidence.
Thinking about this whole belief in Santa thing, I remembered my most fond Christmas memory ever. Every year around Christmas time my mom would take us to the teddy bear store in Concord, Mass. I'm not sure if the place even exists anymore. I think we were going to look for gifts for family, but I'll be honest, I have no idea why we'd go.
This one year she took us several times and each time she would look longingly at the same stuffed rabbit. She would tell us every time that she would come back for him one of these days. She would just admit that she couldn't buy him for herself. It's Christmas time. She couldn't be buying things for herself. She had to worry about everyone else.
It was so sad the last time we went there before Christmas that year. The rabbit was gone. I don't think my mom wanted to admit being as disappointed as she really was. She was never one for showing a lot of emotion. She just shrugged it off with this whole "Oh well" attitude, but we didn't go back that year.
Every Christmas morning my sister and I would wake up early to go look at all the presents under the tree. The tree would stay lit all night, even though it usually was turned off when everyone went to bed. Typically we'd be checking out how many presents we each got. That's what kids do, right? Not that year! My sister and I both stood peeking through the French door to our living room in our nightgowns, but neither of us had our attention on the Christmas tree. We were both fixated on the stockings. Sitting there, tucked into my mom's stockings the way you always see in the movies was a soft looking brown and white rabbit, the very same one from the bear store.
My sister tore through the house screaming that my mom had to come look! Everyone had to wake up right then! My mom had the best present ever! That was definitely a Christmas to remember.
My mom was definitely surprised by it. My dad swears it wasn't him, but Santa, even to this very day, even though my sister and I aren't kids anymore. I honestly have to say, that was the most magical Christmas ever.
That got me thinking, with moments like that, how could I not believe in Santa? After all, Christmas miracles do happen. Perhaps Santa isn't some jolly old fat man who says, "Ho, ho, ho!" and has a serious addiction to cookies and milk while neglecting his hard working reindeer's needs. It's far simpler than that. Santa is every person who gives a gift without taking credit for it. Santa is every person that helps to make a Christmas miracle happen. Santa is every person who puts so much as one little, inexpensive toy in the box for Toys for Tots, or into the food shelter donation boxes. Santa is every person who volunteers to spend their Christmas feeding the homeless, or on call at the ER. Santa lives within every one of us when we give freely and truly embrace the Christmas spirit, especially the part where it's not about the receiving, but the giving.
In light of that, I truly don't think I'm lying to my kids. I've never once told them that Santa is some jolly old fat man who comes down the chimney or breaks into our home to deliver presents. I've simply told them that they get special gifts from Santa every year. It's never a lot, unlike what I used to get. I remember years where the presents were positively spilling from under the tree. However, it's something, from some unknown individual. and as much as my children may accuse me of being Santa in the future, I'm never going to tell them it's really gifts from me. Why? Because I don't need the credit of being "the awesomest mom ever!" I'm doing it just to see the smiles on my children's faces when they open something they've really wanted, or something that I know will make them happy. I'm just showing my children a wonderful example about life, that Santa is the Christmas spirit. It's the part where you give in love to those you care about, to those you may never have met before, and to those who you may never even see. Santa is my aunt who sends presents that fill my shelf and have to be stuffed back in every time I open the closet door. Santa is my grandmother, who never sends much, but what she does send generally ends up with my daughter overjoyed and my son just tossing it aside and ignoring it for presents that are far more fun, and then you can't get it out of his hands a week later, especially the hats! Santa is alive and well, if you only know where and how to look.
So, yes, I believe in Santa, as a full grown adult. I want my kids to believe in Santa. I want them to learn what the spirit of Christmas is actually about! I want them to see that it's not about how much you have to spend or the hassle of shopping. I want them to approach the whole holiday season with joy! I have to admit, that's how I've always felt. I don't think of Christmas shopping with the idea of "Ugh...I have to buy a present for this person now... I don't know what to get for them!" Instead, I approach it with the mantra, "Stay on budget. Stay on budget. If some year we're not tight on money, then you can go crazy for Christmas, but stay on budget!" Why? Because I love picking out something perfect for the people I love. I love being able to donate toys and goods to charity. If I had the money, I'd probably do it all year round!
To that mom with the superior attitude, believe you're doing your best for your children all you want. That's what being a parent is about. However, I'm going to sit back, take a deep breath, and know that I'm doing the same. Yes, I may be filling my children's heads with dreams and fantasy, but I'm a dreamer too. Besides, sometimes believing in the magic is all that it takes to find a way to make it real.
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