The best time of the year
For me, one of the hardest things about being a parent is being a parent - read: adult - all the time. Not that I think I'm an overly immature person by nature. I just mean us parental folk are always expected to have our parenting game faces on, be the triumphant leaders of the life journey for our families, always ready to find the life lesson in every moment. That kind of stuff. To be completely honest, and I like to be that way here, it can be boring, striving to be this way all the time.
Well, right now, I think I've got a reason to celebrate. In case you haven't been exposed to any kind of retail outlet lately, and thus may have missed it, Christmas is coming.
I love Christmas. Christmas has always been very special and very exciting for me. I love it all.
The anticipation played out through the advent wreath. Choosing a tree (don't even talk to me about artificial ones). Decorating the tree and the house. Buying presents. Christmas baking (not that I've gotten into doing the baking yet at this point in my life, but I sure enjoy consuming it). The contrasting feelings of serenity and jubilation that always overcome me at Catholic Christmas Eve services. Get-togethers with my huge families. Christmas parties (yes even I, a certified recluse, love Christmas parties). Christmas carols (the good old cheesy Bing Crosby versions. Why anyone ever let Mariah Carey, Jessica Simpson and their ilk near carols is beyond me). The way family just seems to come first a little more. How everyone can't resist being just a little bit nicer.
The Christmas season was, for me, a time blanketed in pure childlike wonder but this changed a smidge about ten years ago. I still very much loved all of the things I just listed off, but that was the time that things shifted a little in my family - for me, anyway, being the youngest. At this point all three kids in my family (my two older brothers and I) were in university and not living at home, with schedules that were tricky to align. Until then my family had obliged me in my love for Christmas. Putting on excited faces as Christmas approached. Letting me play Christmas CDs a lot. Gathering at the hour I appointed to decorate the family tree. Not that any of them are or were scrooges at all, but I do think they played it all up a bit, and for my sake.
Well at this time I just mentioned, a decade or so ago, we were no longer united as a family in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Instead we all returned home for varying lengths of time and just ended up hoping that those visits would overlap as much as possible.
So, to summarize, some of the shine of the celebration of Christmas had come off. I was truly saddened by the diminishing of that incredible sense of wonder I once had but understood it to be just part of growing up.
Well, this year I've got good news. I am very happy to report that the wonder is back. This year my two and a half year old is starting to 'get' Christmas. Not, of course, that she fully understands the implications of it being the celebration of Jesus' birth.
What I mean is she knows that Christmas is a time of celebration with a tree to be decorated, presents to be bought and a guy in a big red suit. She knows that you ask this guy for presents. That you must be a good kid to get those presents (of course knowing and behaving in accordance with this knowledge may sometimes not go hand in hand). And as I introduce my daughter to all of the elements of Christmas, I let myself get a little more excited about it all. I start to smile when I see houses decorated. I'm counting down the days till we can meticulously choose our tree and bring the true scent of Christmas into our home. Even buying clementines, that little harbinger of Christmas, makes me giddy again. It's all coming back and I couldn't be happier.
It took stepping into my most grown up role to get back to being a kid at Christmas. And if I get a little over-excited as Christmas draws closer and I happen to make a fool of myself at any point, I already have a credible excuse prepared.
"Oh, you know, I'm doing it for my daughter. As a parent you've just gotta do it for the kids. They eat this stuff up."
That's a win-win in my books.
Well, right now, I think I've got a reason to celebrate. In case you haven't been exposed to any kind of retail outlet lately, and thus may have missed it, Christmas is coming.
I love Christmas. Christmas has always been very special and very exciting for me. I love it all.
The anticipation played out through the advent wreath. Choosing a tree (don't even talk to me about artificial ones). Decorating the tree and the house. Buying presents. Christmas baking (not that I've gotten into doing the baking yet at this point in my life, but I sure enjoy consuming it). The contrasting feelings of serenity and jubilation that always overcome me at Catholic Christmas Eve services. Get-togethers with my huge families. Christmas parties (yes even I, a certified recluse, love Christmas parties). Christmas carols (the good old cheesy Bing Crosby versions. Why anyone ever let Mariah Carey, Jessica Simpson and their ilk near carols is beyond me). The way family just seems to come first a little more. How everyone can't resist being just a little bit nicer.
The Christmas season was, for me, a time blanketed in pure childlike wonder but this changed a smidge about ten years ago. I still very much loved all of the things I just listed off, but that was the time that things shifted a little in my family - for me, anyway, being the youngest. At this point all three kids in my family (my two older brothers and I) were in university and not living at home, with schedules that were tricky to align. Until then my family had obliged me in my love for Christmas. Putting on excited faces as Christmas approached. Letting me play Christmas CDs a lot. Gathering at the hour I appointed to decorate the family tree. Not that any of them are or were scrooges at all, but I do think they played it all up a bit, and for my sake.
Well at this time I just mentioned, a decade or so ago, we were no longer united as a family in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Instead we all returned home for varying lengths of time and just ended up hoping that those visits would overlap as much as possible.
So, to summarize, some of the shine of the celebration of Christmas had come off. I was truly saddened by the diminishing of that incredible sense of wonder I once had but understood it to be just part of growing up.
Well, this year I've got good news. I am very happy to report that the wonder is back. This year my two and a half year old is starting to 'get' Christmas. Not, of course, that she fully understands the implications of it being the celebration of Jesus' birth.
What I mean is she knows that Christmas is a time of celebration with a tree to be decorated, presents to be bought and a guy in a big red suit. She knows that you ask this guy for presents. That you must be a good kid to get those presents (of course knowing and behaving in accordance with this knowledge may sometimes not go hand in hand). And as I introduce my daughter to all of the elements of Christmas, I let myself get a little more excited about it all. I start to smile when I see houses decorated. I'm counting down the days till we can meticulously choose our tree and bring the true scent of Christmas into our home. Even buying clementines, that little harbinger of Christmas, makes me giddy again. It's all coming back and I couldn't be happier.
It took stepping into my most grown up role to get back to being a kid at Christmas. And if I get a little over-excited as Christmas draws closer and I happen to make a fool of myself at any point, I already have a credible excuse prepared.
"Oh, you know, I'm doing it for my daughter. As a parent you've just gotta do it for the kids. They eat this stuff up."
That's a win-win in my books.
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