The Christmas That Almost Wasn't
Today I got all the way to the gym before I looked down and realized that I laced up my boots instead of my tennies. I headed back home ready to #exerciseuntilidie with #noexcuses because of #nyresolutions and #decembereatathon.
No less than five minutes in the door and I'm sipping hot tea wearing my new polka-dotted pj pants and my son's Spiderman snuggie curled up in front of this blog. Oh, 2017. You're going to be a sneaky bitch, I can tell.
No matter - I've been wanting to tell you about our Christmas anyway.
Christmas almost didn't arrive for the Turk household. There was a little boy who was so ungrateful, so sassy, so punchy, hitty and throwing furniture-y that one Monday morning I had had enough. I had warned him that if he kept it up, Christmas would be cancelled and lo and behold after he gave me a good bruise-creating kick - it was. Since I had JUST decorated the house the night before (with very little - I don't love clutter), and the tree was still only a Douglas Fir plant in the middle of the living room sans lights, ornaments and star, I tore through the house and brought Christmas a-tumblin' down. I set everything on the kitchen table - including his Elf on a Shelf (Elfred) - so that he could SEE what Christmas being cancelled looked like. Oh man, did he realize in a friggin JIF that Mama wasn't joking. (I have 30 YEARS and a college degree on drama, babe - TEST ME).
I set him down, looked into his teary-bright eyes and told him that if he didn't learn the true meaning of Christmas, presents, cookies, decorations and stockings weren't going to happen in our house. He wouldn't get to meet Santa this year and we wouldn't put lights up on the roof. As he cried, I came to from my Satanic purge and hugged and held him, trying to explain how it was that Christmas wasn't just about presents. I took a breath and explained that Christmas was about Jesus being born to teach us how to be kind and giving, to show us that everyone is worth more than just ourselves and that it is a time to appreciate our love for one another. Christmas is a time to celebrate and be grateful for our many blessings. Over sobs, he told me that he understood, and I looked over at the kitchen table bemoaning the fact that I'd have to put all that holiday shit back up again. (Completely negating what I told Ollie, but whatever).
Doug's response when he found out Christmas was a no-go was like, EFF YEAH LET'S TAKE BACK ALL HIS PRESENTS. Because, truly, we bought a truck-load of them and we'd end up giving them all to him instead of putting some away for his birthday as originally "intended" because every single holiday with an only child is all IT'S THAT EPISODE OF OPRAH'S FAVORITE THINGS! YOU get a present and YOU get a present and CHECK UNDER YOUR SEAT THERE'S A PRESENT UNDER THERE. Because guilt and insanity sometimes go hand in hand.
And, as parents and adults who should know better, Doug and I never learn. Ollie, each holiday, opens presents and sends them over his shoulder like it's effing Tylenol in a crack house and after an hour looks up from crinkly layers of bows and tape and boxes and ribbons with his eyes half-closed and glitter under his nose like he's been snorting CELEBRATION and asks if that's all there is.
This was the year, I decided. Let Christmas come. And with it, some thankfulness and peace around this house. Come to think of it, I thought to myself as I watched Amazon boxes come rolling in, this could be a wonderful lesson for all of us to learn.
All week, Oliver did things to show us he understood the meaning of Christmas. He made our bed as a secret surprise every morning, and he proudly made my sandwiches for lunch. We practiced his church program songs every morning and did a children's Bible advent each night. One morning I brought him some hot chocolate and I used a Christmas mug without thinking. He goes, "Mama! We can't have those yet! Christmas is cancelled!"
That Friday night, Doug and I asked him if he could tell us what the meaning of Christmas was. He replied, "Christmas isn't about getting presents. It's about showing people that you love them and being thankful for what you have." He had it (or at least did a great impression of someone who did). We asked him to write a letter to Elfred inviting him back to the house.
That night, I took him to see Santa and as luck would have it, there wasn't a line. The "elf" came over to talk me into their exorbitant packages and, while Ollie was watching something on the Santa screen, I whispered the whole story to her and asked her to relay it to Santa. She did, and then waved us over. We walk in and Santa goes, "Ollie, come over here and let's have a chat." Ollie gasped and I could just about hear his pants fill.
I took some pictures and they had about a 5-7 minute conversation. Afterwards, O was pretty quiet. I asked him what they discussed and he goes, "Well, Mama, we talked it out. Santa said that Elfred can come back and that Christmas doesn't have to be cancelled anymore!"
Chatting it up
Cheese!
But then it wouldn't be my story.
On Christmas Eve as my sister-in-law, brother-in-law and their two littles, Ollie, Doug and I were in the kitchen eating dinner, I started to tell them about a Christmas Eve tradition I had heard and wanted to start. My friend at work used to go outside on Christmas Eve and make a trail of glitter for the reindeer to "see" the house. I was telling the adults that I got cookie sprinkles so we could do that after it got dark because I abhor glitter. (Another reason God saw fit to give me this rough and tumbly boy).
Doug: "But the sprinkles will melt."
Me: "Yup! That's the idea. Glitter would get tracked into the house and we'd have it forever!"
Doug: "But no one would see the landing strip."
Me: "Doug. No one needs to see it. Santa isn't real."
SILENCE.
All three kids looked up with their huge Disney princess eyes and I started shaking. Heather began laughing so hard and so quietly that her eyes were forming tears. Ross looked at me, mouth agape, like a deer caught in headlights and Doug just went downstairs. He just left - he couldn't take it. Finally, little Mason looked up and said softly, "Santa isn't real?" I shook my head and laughed nervously, "No, sweetie, Santa's real - I was just joking with Uncle Doug. Now eat the rest of your crackers!"
And that was it. All night I overcompensated by screaming about how great Santa is and using the Google tracker to see where he was on Earth. Luckily, it didn't spill into Ollie's subconscious because he woke up twice that night to ask if Santa had come yet. He loved that Santa's footprints were on the floor when he woke up and that Santa had eaten some of the cookies and milk. He didn't notice that the presents wrapped in the stocking didn't match the one present Santa brought him under the tree.
(At 2:30am I woke up in a cold sweat because I realized I had forgotten to fill the stockings. I did that in the dark and then stayed awake worrying about that damn wrapping paper in the stocking for another hour.)
The things we do for our children that they'll never know or will forget!
...And the things we do for our children that they may remember forever.
Christmas Day Doug had me hide Santa's present behind the curtain of the sliding glass door. Ollie had asked for a "giant toy Ner(s) gun" from Santa and as the presents were dwindling, I could tell he was getting more and more nervous. Finally all the presents were unwrapped and Ollie, trying to hide that he was about to cry, quietly asked, "So Santa didn't bring a Ner(s) gun?" Doug goes, "Buddy, aren't you grateful for what you've gotten?" Ollie replied quickly, "Yes, yes, I am. I was just..." And I couldn't take it anymore, so I calmly took his hand and showed him the present behind the curtain. It was smaller than he had anticipated, so he kind of smiled and kind of didn't. Then he sat down on the couch and opened it to reveal two smaller Nerf guns and some pellets. Oh my, you would have thought Santa had roped the moon.
Because of that moment, I'm positive he understood. While Christmas never was fully cancelled and Ollie was still rewarded with loads of presents, stockings, Christmas cookies, a Santa visit and all else - and he probably never expected it to be fully cancelled anyway - for him to have enough awareness to try and control his tears over not getting a present that he had asked for for months made me terribly proud.
(I do realize that we sort of bullied him into it and lots of people don't get presents or stockings and here I am bragging about how my kid understands generosity and thankfulness and need and greed when he's got a roof over his head, functioning heat, a million pairs of clean underwear, a really reliable school system and running water.)
Yes, we still gave him everything. Yes, he's a spoiled kid. Yes, we didn't know when to stop and are completely abetting his greed and American consumerism. But maybe thoroughly and utterly despite us, he's getting it. He's watching and generosity will show up again in his future.
I curl up tonight replete in the knowledge that Ollie is growing up to be a wonderful little boy,albeit SASSY AF and the teaching isn't over. 2017, bring it on. Doug and I agreed that Ollie's now old enough to be included in our volunteerism. Now there are "#noexcuses" to bringing this child up in a world filled with awareness, gratefulness, love, generosity and kindness. Who knows if my gym membership this year will be worth it, but this "#nyresolution" is one for the ages.
No less than five minutes in the door and I'm sipping hot tea wearing my new polka-dotted pj pants and my son's Spiderman snuggie curled up in front of this blog. Oh, 2017. You're going to be a sneaky bitch, I can tell.
No matter - I've been wanting to tell you about our Christmas anyway.
Christmas almost didn't arrive for the Turk household. There was a little boy who was so ungrateful, so sassy, so punchy, hitty and throwing furniture-y that one Monday morning I had had enough. I had warned him that if he kept it up, Christmas would be cancelled and lo and behold after he gave me a good bruise-creating kick - it was. Since I had JUST decorated the house the night before (with very little - I don't love clutter), and the tree was still only a Douglas Fir plant in the middle of the living room sans lights, ornaments and star, I tore through the house and brought Christmas a-tumblin' down. I set everything on the kitchen table - including his Elf on a Shelf (Elfred) - so that he could SEE what Christmas being cancelled looked like. Oh man, did he realize in a friggin JIF that Mama wasn't joking. (I have 30 YEARS and a college degree on drama, babe - TEST ME).
I set him down, looked into his teary-bright eyes and told him that if he didn't learn the true meaning of Christmas, presents, cookies, decorations and stockings weren't going to happen in our house. He wouldn't get to meet Santa this year and we wouldn't put lights up on the roof. As he cried, I came to from my Satanic purge and hugged and held him, trying to explain how it was that Christmas wasn't just about presents. I took a breath and explained that Christmas was about Jesus being born to teach us how to be kind and giving, to show us that everyone is worth more than just ourselves and that it is a time to appreciate our love for one another. Christmas is a time to celebrate and be grateful for our many blessings. Over sobs, he told me that he understood, and I looked over at the kitchen table bemoaning the fact that I'd have to put all that holiday shit back up again. (Completely negating what I told Ollie, but whatever).
Doug's response when he found out Christmas was a no-go was like, EFF YEAH LET'S TAKE BACK ALL HIS PRESENTS. Because, truly, we bought a truck-load of them and we'd end up giving them all to him instead of putting some away for his birthday as originally "intended" because every single holiday with an only child is all IT'S THAT EPISODE OF OPRAH'S FAVORITE THINGS! YOU get a present and YOU get a present and CHECK UNDER YOUR SEAT THERE'S A PRESENT UNDER THERE. Because guilt and insanity sometimes go hand in hand.
And, as parents and adults who should know better, Doug and I never learn. Ollie, each holiday, opens presents and sends them over his shoulder like it's effing Tylenol in a crack house and after an hour looks up from crinkly layers of bows and tape and boxes and ribbons with his eyes half-closed and glitter under his nose like he's been snorting CELEBRATION and asks if that's all there is.
This was the year, I decided. Let Christmas come. And with it, some thankfulness and peace around this house. Come to think of it, I thought to myself as I watched Amazon boxes come rolling in, this could be a wonderful lesson for all of us to learn.
All week, Oliver did things to show us he understood the meaning of Christmas. He made our bed as a secret surprise every morning, and he proudly made my sandwiches for lunch. We practiced his church program songs every morning and did a children's Bible advent each night. One morning I brought him some hot chocolate and I used a Christmas mug without thinking. He goes, "Mama! We can't have those yet! Christmas is cancelled!"
That Friday night, Doug and I asked him if he could tell us what the meaning of Christmas was. He replied, "Christmas isn't about getting presents. It's about showing people that you love them and being thankful for what you have." He had it (or at least did a great impression of someone who did). We asked him to write a letter to Elfred inviting him back to the house.
That night, I took him to see Santa and as luck would have it, there wasn't a line. The "elf" came over to talk me into their exorbitant packages and, while Ollie was watching something on the Santa screen, I whispered the whole story to her and asked her to relay it to Santa. She did, and then waved us over. We walk in and Santa goes, "Ollie, come over here and let's have a chat." Ollie gasped and I could just about hear his pants fill.
I took some pictures and they had about a 5-7 minute conversation. Afterwards, O was pretty quiet. I asked him what they discussed and he goes, "Well, Mama, we talked it out. Santa said that Elfred can come back and that Christmas doesn't have to be cancelled anymore!"
"Oh shit" moment
Chatting it up
Cheese!
He still had some gimmes after Christmas was un-cancelled, but mostly he was a grateful little peach - honestly. I was incredibly proud of him. Each time he opened presents he thanked the giver and enjoyed the present even when it was time to open another one. Completely different from earlier years.
Perfect way to wrap up a beautiful Christmas story, isn't it?
But then it wouldn't be my story.
On Christmas Eve as my sister-in-law, brother-in-law and their two littles, Ollie, Doug and I were in the kitchen eating dinner, I started to tell them about a Christmas Eve tradition I had heard and wanted to start. My friend at work used to go outside on Christmas Eve and make a trail of glitter for the reindeer to "see" the house. I was telling the adults that I got cookie sprinkles so we could do that after it got dark because I abhor glitter. (Another reason God saw fit to give me this rough and tumbly boy).
Doug: "But the sprinkles will melt."
Me: "Yup! That's the idea. Glitter would get tracked into the house and we'd have it forever!"
Doug: "But no one would see the landing strip."
Me: "Doug. No one needs to see it. Santa isn't real."
SILENCE.
All three kids looked up with their huge Disney princess eyes and I started shaking. Heather began laughing so hard and so quietly that her eyes were forming tears. Ross looked at me, mouth agape, like a deer caught in headlights and Doug just went downstairs. He just left - he couldn't take it. Finally, little Mason looked up and said softly, "Santa isn't real?" I shook my head and laughed nervously, "No, sweetie, Santa's real - I was just joking with Uncle Doug. Now eat the rest of your crackers!"
And that was it. All night I overcompensated by screaming about how great Santa is and using the Google tracker to see where he was on Earth. Luckily, it didn't spill into Ollie's subconscious because he woke up twice that night to ask if Santa had come yet. He loved that Santa's footprints were on the floor when he woke up and that Santa had eaten some of the cookies and milk. He didn't notice that the presents wrapped in the stocking didn't match the one present Santa brought him under the tree.
(At 2:30am I woke up in a cold sweat because I realized I had forgotten to fill the stockings. I did that in the dark and then stayed awake worrying about that damn wrapping paper in the stocking for another hour.)
The things we do for our children that they'll never know or will forget!
...And the things we do for our children that they may remember forever.
Christmas Day Doug had me hide Santa's present behind the curtain of the sliding glass door. Ollie had asked for a "giant toy Ner(s) gun" from Santa and as the presents were dwindling, I could tell he was getting more and more nervous. Finally all the presents were unwrapped and Ollie, trying to hide that he was about to cry, quietly asked, "So Santa didn't bring a Ner(s) gun?" Doug goes, "Buddy, aren't you grateful for what you've gotten?" Ollie replied quickly, "Yes, yes, I am. I was just..." And I couldn't take it anymore, so I calmly took his hand and showed him the present behind the curtain. It was smaller than he had anticipated, so he kind of smiled and kind of didn't. Then he sat down on the couch and opened it to reveal two smaller Nerf guns and some pellets. Oh my, you would have thought Santa had roped the moon.
Because of that moment, I'm positive he understood. While Christmas never was fully cancelled and Ollie was still rewarded with loads of presents, stockings, Christmas cookies, a Santa visit and all else - and he probably never expected it to be fully cancelled anyway - for him to have enough awareness to try and control his tears over not getting a present that he had asked for for months made me terribly proud.
(I do realize that we sort of bullied him into it and lots of people don't get presents or stockings and here I am bragging about how my kid understands generosity and thankfulness and need and greed when he's got a roof over his head, functioning heat, a million pairs of clean underwear, a really reliable school system and running water.)
Yes, we still gave him everything. Yes, he's a spoiled kid. Yes, we didn't know when to stop and are completely abetting his greed and American consumerism. But maybe thoroughly and utterly despite us, he's getting it. He's watching and generosity will show up again in his future.
I curl up tonight replete in the knowledge that Ollie is growing up to be a wonderful little boy,
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