Wednesday, January 19, 2011

How I came to believe in Santa Claus.

As parents, there is something about Christmas time that makes us want our children to believe in the impossible. Like, a big fat man flying through the air in a sleigh powered by magic reindeer leaving presents and if you believe enough, even a Christmas miracle or two.

Needless to say, it has been a long time since I believed. In fact, I told myself that I would never force this story onto my children. Instead of celebrating "Christmas" we celebrated "Yule". For those of you not familiar with this tradition, it is the twelve days from December 21st to January 1st. The children open one present each day which made it perfect for traveling from grandparent's house to grandparent's house and no one felt pressure to have Christmas morning. It also ensured that they played and appreciated each gift instead of opening 100 presents, choosing only one favorite and the rest of the toys were banished to the bottomless toy box to never see the light of day again.

Prince and Princess of course felt pressure the minute they started school because all of the other kids celebrated Christmas, not to mention the whole business about this Santa fellow. Princess was kind enough to break it down for me. "So if I believe in Santa, he will bring me more presents?"

Ah, yes. All of my hard work shot craps, but I never willing to admit defeat decided to adapt this story. So I bought Santa caps and told them that it wasn't one person who was Santa, but everyone taking turns feeling the spirit of Santa and giving presents to others. I also started allowing Christmas morning to be the day that we opened the "Santa's stocking", hence the extra "Santa" presents. Then came the inevitable question of, "Why didn't Santa leave you any presents, Mommie?" Prince ultimately concluded that it was because I didn't believe enough. And I was ok with that.

As the children grew older the stories of Christmas and Santa became more alluring until last year Princess broke down and said, "Why can't we just celebrate Christmas like everyone else?"

Well the truth is we can.

At first I thought this might work out pretty good for me. I don't have to count and recount to make sure that everyone had twelve presents. I just have to make sure that I had special "Santa" gift paper (that no other presents are wrapped in) and whola. But no Christmas story is complete without some drama... my speciality.

I found out a couple of months ago that our department was being laid off and that December 31st would be my last day of employment. Even with the advanced notice, it is a tough job market out there. I joined networking groups, called my friends and family, applied for every position I was qualified for and combed the web for freelance opportunities.

Christmas became a source of more and more anxiety as I tried to balance the pressure of what the kids thought it was going to be, what Tom and I were ready to pull off and my impending deadline to have a new job. In all honesty, I just wasn't in the Christmas mood.

I did decorate the house. I mailed out the holiday cards. I shopped for presents, but everything just felt off. It was like I was going through the motions. I know Tom and the kids saw it - I was being a total Debbie Downer. So I tried to take my own advice and do something nice for others. I made truffles for the garbage man, the mail woman and the teachers. The kids and I went through there toy boxes and cleaned out their closets. We gave everything that wasn't broken to Goodwill. We took all of the hotel soaps and shampoos that Tom has collected and made little kits to give to the local shelter. These small acts did make me feel better.

On December 13th, Prince came home from school and had a package in his hand. It was a gift bag left on our door step filled with pencils, hair bow, and little toys. The note said that it was from a "Mysterious Christmas Caller" who was celebrating and counting down the twelve days to Christmas.

This sweet gesture really touched me. Prince decided that this had come from our neighbor and ran next door to tell her thank you. He came back only to explain that she knew nothing about it and that her son had not received any mysterious Christmas packages.

And so for the next two weeks, my children were filled with a new joy. They woke each other (at the crack of dawn) and raced downstairs to scratch at the door, begging to go outside and see what their special Santa had left them. And each day without fail, there was another package. The notes counted down the days until Christmas, building suspense of what they would do next. Each present contained something new; jingle bells, bows, cookies and toys.

And each day I was in awe of the effort and care that someone was taking to make this Christmas special. After about a week, the kids plotted to discover the secret identity of our gift giver so that we could leave presents for them too. If it was this much fun to receive the presents, imagine how much fun it would be to give them a surprise back? As they sat in front of dark windows with walkie talkies at ten at night, Tom called them out of their hiding places to explain that it was just as important to appreciate everything that our Mysterious Christmas Callers were doing for us. That spying on them would spoil all of their hard work.

With that, they stopped hiding. We enjoyed each and every present. To this day, we still do not know their secret identity. Maybe they are Santa's elves (Princess vote). Maybe there are one neighbors (Tom's vote). Maybe friends from my old job (Prince's vote). Or maybe it is just someone filled with the spirit of "Santa" showing us the true meaning of Christmas.

Either way, I pray our Mysterious Christmas Callers know what they have given us this year. My thanks to you.