I’m spending my time stringing cranberry garland that may rot on our live Christmas tree that may loose all its needles before Christmas actually begins.
This may be the cleanest part of my home by the time Santa comes.
I’ve also spent my time in a futile effort to keep my living room clean so we don’t have to use a complicated rope-and-pulley system to suspend the tree over the pile of dirty laundry. In my living room. I know, I don’t know how that happened either.
There is only so much that will keep my children occupied during this time.
For Baby it’s pens (mercifully capped), my sharp scissors, exposed electrical outlets, and anything else that will result in her immanent demise.
For Preschooler it’s glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. She has always enjoyed art projects, so I keep an assortment of paint, crayons, colored paper, and, yes, glitter around for her to use. I did this with the good intentions of letting her express her creativity, and to keep her out of my hair for 5 minutes. Unfortunately, though it keeps her busy, it results in a heart-attack inducing mess.
At least the glitter on my carpet is festive, right? Right?
Explaining Santa thing has also proven difficult. I honestly believe the sex talk would be easier.
Now about this Santa thing...
But I find myself tripping over my tongue trying to explain the lie of the jolly fat man.
Part of me wants to to tell her it is TRUE. Because that’s what makes it fun. And so she won’t be the kid on the playground who ruins it for every one else.
But I can’t do it. Because it’s not true.
I’d much rather put it in the context of myth. That it’s a really fun thing to do. That since the beginning of time people have found ways to celebrate that even though winter is dark and bleak, there is still hope.
But what kind of 3 year old can appreciate myth?
And then there’s the whole Jesus thing. It would be so easy if I could explain that Jesus was a real man sent to earth by God to spread the message of peace and love, and that since he saved us from sin we celebrate the day of his birth. It’s not to say this isn’t true. It very well could be. But as I’m still looking for spiritual faith and guidance myself, I’m not sure how to approach this issue with my children.
The funny thing about all this is I LOVE Christmas.
I love decorating my house with lights and evergreens.
I love being with my family, so we can celebrate (or at least appreciate) our love for each other. I love giving presents to my family, in part because I love to shop and it’s more fun to shop for others rather than myself.
I love giving to my community in the form of charity and volunteering.
I LOVE Christmas. Even if I don’t understand it.
And now I have to go. Baby is trying to eat my lipstick. With her eyeball.