We are utterly unprepared to have a child during the holidays. Thankfully, he’s too little to really notice the extreme lack of “festive” decorations or, really, a tree. I’ve bought him a stocking and even a few things to stuff it with, and a couple of presents, but we’re finding it hard to strike a balance between what we believe (we’d rather spend the money on a trip than extravagant gifts; the world is filled with crap that has taken precious time, energy and resources to make, do we really need it?) and the need to give our son happy, healthy family memories. There’s a point where you need to make your own traditions — to decide what’s right for your family. In a way, I know these sorts of things will evolve over time. Before we lost my mom, we had a number of things we did around the holidays: we each made a decoration both for the tree and for our homemade stockings, we read a battered, aged copy of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve after we were allowed to open one present, and we spent days covered in family from head to toe culminating in a delicious meal or two, or three.
A couple of days ago, while the RRBB was visiting his cousins, I spent a frantic couple of hours trying to stop him from a) pulling down every ornament from their tree, b) stop him from eating every single ornament within his reach and c) try to stop him from pressing play on a Snoopy piano-thingy so much that it broke. He’s in full-on toddler mode these days. Fingers working all the time. Mind on go, never rewind. And he’s unstoppable. He crashes into the wall with the same fury that he crashes into sleep at night. I can see myself in him in places — when I take something away from him, he flips over and screams, the start of a temper tantrum. And knowing how bad my temper was as a child, it’s familiar. To me, it’s hilarious, but I imagine my laughing at him, as my parents laughed at me, remains endlessly frustrating.
Annnywaay, back to the point, what does it mean to create holiday traditions? What’s necessary to make changes that are reflective of the time, the place that we’re in now? My RRHB was raised a Catholic, but he’s not religious. My mother was an atheist and my father didn’t really have any opinion either way that he related to the two of us (my brother and I). When I asked my maternal grandmother what religion we were, she told me we were high Anglican, whatever that means. My half-Swedish grandmother was Lutheran, I think, but we never went to church, talked about the Bible, or really had any religion incorporated with our holiday celebrations. So our traditions are rooted in family. In gathering together. And that’s the part that I find so comforting. The first Christmas dinner the RRHB and I had in our house we cooked for six straight days (three full days of entertaining). We were exhausted by the end of it all (exceptionally tired of doing dishes, natch) but we signed right up to do it all again — with a newborn. What were we thinking? This year, we’re travelling and only having one, relaxed, kicked back gathering at our place.
Sometimes, though, the Scrooge in me says why bother, why bother with it all? And then, I remember the year after we got married, we went to Cuba for Christmas. The trip was amazing. Both of us were miserable for missing the holiday with our families. So, it’s already a love/hate situation and I don’t know how to manage the two. This year, I’m more exhausted than I have ever been in my life — fifteen months of battling the disease coupled with a relentlessly busy work schedule means that the last thing I want to do when I get home is make gingerbread. But, then, I want to make sure that the RRBB has a sense of the magic that I felt when I was a little girl. And then I don’t want him to grow up just wanting toy after toy, never changing the consumerist nature of the holiday that both of us find hard to battle against. We’ve asked our families to calm down with the presents — I realize saying no presents makes me a horrible, Scrooge-like individual. That our first inclinations is always to spoil the people that we love, with stuff. Where does that come from — I’m hyper-guilty of it myself. If I didn’t consistently curb my own habits, I’d be out there shopping all the time. And I realize that we’ll never be Little House on the Prairie any longer. We’re not going to be happy with a bright, orange, well, orange from Santa Claus. Yet, I still think it’s incredibly important for my boy to understand the value of things. Right now, that’s a ridiculous thought, he understands a lot of simple concepts, and even complex ones, but teaching him that the resources used up to make that silly plastic toy are so much greater than it’s worth in terms of the Earth, the environment, and in order for us to have holidays in the future, we need to think about this stuff seriously.
So, I’ve started my own traditions. Both for his birthday and now for Christmas, we’ve bought him artwork for his room (I got these amazing truck prints from a local Toronto artist on Etsy). I always get the kids, nieces, nephews, an adoptive animal from the WWF, and we’ve always tried to buy socially responsible things. And then we’re still buying. So I don’t know what the solution is — wait until he’s a little older and see how it evolves, that’s probably the best answer. Not get so worked up about people giving him gifts because I know it comes from the right place. Not feel so guilty about being too tired to drag out our ass-old decorations and put them up on a tree. Let his grandparents spoil him with love and affection, honestly, let everyone spoil him with love and affection because sometimes, you’re unable to stop that in his presence.
The above picture was taken moments after we got in the car from his first official holiday party. He was the youngest (barring a very, very tiny baby swaddled in a car seat) kid there and he spent the whole time smiling, running, and chasing after the older kids. He has a particular crush on a friend’s son — who treated him kindly, always making sure he was included, always giving him space and making sure he was safe. When the kids gathered around the table to decorate gingerbread cookies, the RRBB stood at the table until I got the message that he wanted to be included too. It was eye-opening to me, probably similar to what he’s like at daycare, happy to be around other kids, happy to be included, excited just to be there. The whole party was an incredibly fun experience for the children. But I was a little shell shocked. I always have trouble at parties. I’m awkward, terrible at making small talk, and feel uncomfortable. I kept thinking the whole time that I’m not entirely prepared for what my life demands. I know now not to feel guilty at all about daycare — he loves being around other kids. But I know I have to venture out and, gasp, do things with other parents. The shyness, the insecurity, well, that’s not going to be solved now. That’s a New Year’s Revolution, right?
Regardless, I used to spend these weeks around the holidays stressed and totally nervous about everything being perfect. This year, simply because I wanted everything to be less — less stressful, less stuff, less overwhelming — life is calmer. Maybe I’m ruining my boy for life with our terrible, single Santa candle being the only decoration this year. But I’ve decided that we’re going to evolve as a family into our traditions. I don’t have to solve it all now. I don’t have to become Martha Stewart or the like. I can relax and get my strength back. I can hold our boy on Christmas morning and have it be just like any other day for now because, and I know it’s corny, but I am thankful for every single minute we have with him.