The holidays are officially over and I say it’s officially over because I finally took down the Christmas tree yesterday. I love LOVE Christmas and having children only adds to the joy I have this time of year. I really can’t get enough of Christmas and having you and Miles gives me an excuse to partake in any activity that carries the holiday theme. You may not understand how deep my love is for the holiday. Picture a dog. You know how a dog finds poop in the grass and for some reason, they have to roll all over it – they’re obsessed and can’t get enough of it. It’s as if by rolling all over it, they some how absorb all the essence there is out of that teeny tiny specimen. If Christmas were a spot in the grass, you would find me throwing myself at that spot, rolling all over it; trying to absorb every last drop of yuletide joy.
We stayed busy all month and we didn’t let our month-long illnesses keep us down. We roamed the bay area far and wide to view fake snow and real snow, dance with Charlie Brown, look at National Lampoon-esque houses adorned with hundreds of thousands of lights including one house in Livermore that synchronized their lights and water show to a radio station. We baked cookies and decorated a gingerbread house. We traveled to Ghirardelli in San Francisco to indulge in a hot fudge sundae for dinner, walked through Bethlehem, enjoyed countless cups of cocoa, and rode the train of lights through Sunol. We watched a good chunk of the holiday classics and I even taught you how to sing, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” See what I mean – December is not a time of rest in this house.
Despite our goal of keeping Christmas small, we just can’t seem to stay true to our words. I really don’t care. I have two children that I love more than life itself. I’m going to spoil you and that’s all there is to it. It is making you a bit of a brat which is sadly a repercussion of wanting to spoil your child silly. On Christmas day, you couldn’t open the gifts fast enough before wanting to know where your next gift was. I tried to buy simple gifts and those went over, like your Father would say, like a fart in an elevator. When you opened your kite, you clearly looked disappointed and asked if you had to use it outside. When I confirmed that it was an outside activity, you chucked it over your shoulder and demanded your next gift. Yes, as much as I love spoiling you, your outlook on the holiday needs to change drastically. Perhaps that’s just you being four years old on Christmas day or perhaps I’m raising a Veruca Salt – either way, I’m screwed.
Touching on the fact that you’re four years old – I greatly miss the days when baby toys consisted of a few big pieces as opposed to this year where you received several lego sets and Playmobile sets that included upwards of seventy pieces each. This was the first year your Father and I actually had to spend some solid time putting your gifts together only to have them taken a part mere hours later by your destructive brother. I hope you enjoyed those two hours with your complete gifts because unless you develop the desire to craft and build, you will never see those sets in their complete form again.
You saw real snow for the first time and I wasn’t surprised to discover that you love snow. Unlike your delicate all-things-make-me-miserable brother, you jumped out of the car and quickly started frolicking in the snow with no care at all as to how cold it was or whether there was snow any where on your body – unlike Miles. Unfortunately for you, I was your sledding buddy and I can’t steer a sled to save my life. We nearly got mowed over several times and fell off the sled more times than you can count before arriving at the bottom. You quickly gave up on me and found an easier hill for you to navigate on your own while I failed miserably at comforting your inconsolable brother. Once again you prove that you’re more fun than Miles. Shhh, don’t tell him I said that.
Given the number of eye rolls I get from your Dad throughout the month of December, I know I can go overboard with Christmas. It drives your Dad crazy how I try to drag out Christmas as much as possible – simply because I just can’t bare to see it go. I realize that I might be bombarding you with too many traditions but I’m confident that one or maybe two will stick and you will look back on these years with fond memories. Perhaps one day, you too will discover the Christmas spot in the grass and hurl your body at it with such jolly good excitement that you could explode out of sheer joy or you may become so exhausted at my excessiveness for the season year after year that you become Jewish and banish me and my advent calendar. I beg you not to do the latter. Not that there is anything wrong with being Jewish. It’s just they don’t have as many pretty decorations and as many planned community holiday-theme activities. I’m just saying, it’s a hell of a lot more fun to roll around in the grass.
And a little festive singing