Monthly Archives: December 2008

I Believe in Santa Claus

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I can tell you in all honesty that I never stopped believing in Santa Claus.  My idea of him may have changed, but the belief never wavered.  I am sad that today I have to defend him in my own home.

There is a four year difference in ages between my kids.  Sari is 9 and all about the magic and wonder of the holidays. Drew is 13 and becoming so cynical it breaks my heart. He told me today that the only jolly fat guy at Christmas is the rich one sitting in his mansion cashing in on his Santa franchise. I was lost for words.

I understand he is 13 and he is a boy and he is probably stuck in this frustrating place of wanting to believe but harassed by his buddies if he does.  Now remember, my son is 13 but he’s only been my son for 5 years and he didn’t have much of a family experience prior to that. So I think it’s understandable that he would want to hold onto the magic for a little longer.

But apparently he has decided to side with the guys at school and to vent his anger for not being able to believe like he wants to, he has decided to shatter my young daughter’s holiday magic as well.

Here’s the thing about Sari, though… you’re not smashing anything for her unless she wants you, too. She’s in control of her world and beliefs. That’s her in the picture above. I asked her to reproduce the look that she had given me just a minute prior. She’s always glad to mug for the blogosphere.

So we’ve been arguing about Santa for a week or so now, when Drew hit below the belt. “It’s obvious the presents are not from Santa or built by elves because they come in a box that says WALMART on them.”

I was pissed. That was it for me. “You know what Andrew? Suppose you put your camera out all night and prove there is no Santa. Then what?  The gifts are done for one thing. Would you like that? (‘no”) Secondly, if Santa dies away so does all his magic. Do you like the Christmas tree? (“yes”) Do you like decorations and the lights? (“oh yes you know I love the lights.”) Do you look forward to Christmas every year?  And what is the general mood of people at Christmas?  Would you agree there is more love in the air at Christmas?”  Well all that stuff is a package deal, I went on to explain. Santa included. He gives people something to believe in and something to hope for.

Drew then offered the idea that maybe there was a man who was so kind and delivered gifts to his community, and when he died, the legend lived on to spread magic and love for Jesus’ birthday.   I agreed that could be the case but if it was, why would he want to squash it.  I had sort of forgotten about Sari.

About five minutes after the conversation and about 5 seconds before delivering the above look, my innocent Sarah said (advised) (WARNED) “I want to just say that I completely believe in Santa, no doubt about that.  But let’s just hope that if he isn’t and  is just being used  to spread love and magic, that SOMEone is smart enough to remove the Walmart labels before they put the gifts under the tree.” <Cue the “I mean business” look>

I felt like she was just making it clear that she was not ready to let go right now and was making sure that we did not do anything that would give her doubt she couldn’t rationalize.

I am really careful with my words when I defend the existence of Santa because I don’t want to lie and I don’t want my kids to turn into cynics. I want to make sure that they can always hear the Christmas bells ringing.  Life is filled with too much heartbreak to take away things that conjures up love and goodness.

There was a day that Santa stopped bringing me “gifts” in a box. It was at the same time that the most important gifts to me couldn’t be found in boxes, but in the hugs of my loved ones and the hope for peace of earth. It was at that time that Santa Claus stopped being a jolly man in a red suit dropping off gifts and flying through the air, and transformed into a spirt, a hope, a wish, a belief that captivated people across the globe. Something for us all to believe in despite our differences. A rare symbol of something innocent and good that cannot be interpreted otherwise.  Why in the world would would you want to stop believing in that?

Over Spending at Christmas

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No matter how many times I say, “This Christmas I am going to be more reasonable.” I always over spend. Nothing like a little recession to tighten your holiday shopping budget, though, am I right Mamas? But we still love to shop and we want desperately to give our most precious ones the gifts their little hearts desire. Just please tell me, why do our precious ones want such expensive stuff?

Before I was a Mom I was an Auntie. I had a niece and a nephew and there is where I learned how fun it is to spend ridiculous amounts of money on little people whose wide eyes and screeches touched the very core of my heart as they opened their gifts.

Then came more nieces and nephews. Cha-ching!  Then as they got older the wish list’s of their heart’s content came with higher and higher prices. Cha-Cha-Ching! I now have nieces and nephews ranging from 3 to 15. The boys all want video games which are not at all cheap. And the list of my sweet angel 15 year old niece now contains things like Coach purses and Ugg boots. Considering I now have kids of my own to shop for in addition to the rest of the brood, I haven’t been able to shop off her list for years.  It is more sad to me than her because she would probably trade her gifts from me to spend a day together just me and her like the old days, and that of course makes it even harder!

My own kids have a Wiion their list this year.  If they both weren’t in agreement on it I don’t think we could swing it. You have to buy the console plus games, plus start up kits, accessory kits, expansion kits, and who knows what else. How could you make that a gift for just one kid?

Another problem I have is REGARDLESS of the cost of the one main gift I love to do GROUPS of gifts with themes and beautiful displays.

I read an article yesterday written by my very good friend about being bipolar and she mentioned the high she gets from getting paid and going shopping and how she actually keeps herself home for a couple days after she gets paid and waits for the high to wear off so that she won’t spend recklessly. I can identify with that, can you?

I’m Popeye the Sailor Mom…

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I have never tried to paint myself as perfect.  I have a few pounds to lose. I am crabby. I procrastinate.  I’ve made mistakes with money.  I’m a great idea person with lots of starts and few finishes. And here comes the big admission. My name is Cin and I cuss like a sailor.

I suppose I am really not like Popeye at all.  He is in great shape.  I did rearrange my whole basement by myself, huge weight machines, steel filing cabinets and all, but it took me three days to do and a week to recover.  Popeye would have pushed it around with his pinkie then gone out with the boys when he was done.  Coincidentally, the girls did invite me out for dancing and southern comfort/diet coke that weekend since Hubby was hunting but my back was out and I was doing a nutritional cleansing so I could neither dance nor drink. :-)

But Popeye is a sailor and I have grown comfortable in my practice of swearing like a sailor.  I am here today to confess and to tell you why I am okay with it.

Like many others probably, I went through my stage in middle school of experimenting with swear words.  I have never tried any kind of drug, although I did drink half a bottle of Southern Comfort at a party my senior year just to say I did because I was tired of being called a goody goody. I didn’t actually have to say it though.  My head in the toilet spoke volumes for me, while my friend Chris F. stole my bottle and finished it off for me. I’m still kind of sore about that. ;-)   Anyway, where was I? Yes, I got liquored up one time in high school and I spent a good part of middle school creating and spouting off interesting swear words, but beyond that, I was clean. I would never use such language in public, around boys, or in the company of adults.  it was a respect thing.

I have heard so many people say that they quit swearing once they had children and I don’t get it.  I never had the urge to swear UNTIL I had kids.  I’m a life time user of phrases like, “mother hubbard!”, “Sugar nuts!”, “Oh fudge!” and “Geez Louise”. Now remember, I didn’t have any time to get used to a baby and “grow” into trouble. We brought 2 cases of fully formed trouble home from the adoption agency and frustration was born over night! I mean, one day I’m meek and quiet and the next day I felt like my head was going to explode. “G*d d*%^ it! I know there’s no use crying over spilled milk but you’ve tipped your glass over three f$&*ing times since we sat down.” I didn’t cry,  but I exploded with words I didn’t know I had in me.(that was a fictional scenario by the way since most of the first couple years of the experience is a blank). (No, not because of too much Southern Comfort, but because I went into a little survival shell and may have gone temporarily insane. That’s a different story for a different day, though.)

Of course I do my best and have gotten progressively better at not cursing in front of the kids. But just today, I got a little fired up talking to Mama Mary on the phone and my daughter said, “Whoa take cover, there’s an F-Bomb coming!”  Seriously, I don’t drop F bombs in front of my kids. Much. She just learned the phrase “f-bomb” and thinks it’s funny.

Here is the thing, though. I was raised in a perfect environment, the way I remember it. Very “Happy Days”. No language, no yelling, respecting the elders, and so on. And I held onto that into adult hood. I never said a bad word in front of my parents or even took a sip of alcohol.  It just wasn’t right. But then real life hit. A couple weeks after Mom passed Dad and I were at the karaoke bar having a beer together. And it WAS right. At the time.  Since then, my Dad has found himself ducking my curse bombs and watching me drinking mojitos on a regular basis.  He knows I respect him.  But it’s hard being perfect when everything seems to be going to sh*t all around you.

I have struggled with it a bit, though, and I had a revelation last night talking to Mama Mar.  We were swearing together and laughing about how much we liked it and how it relieved the day’s stress.  And it hit me.  Trying to stop swearing all together is just one more thing that I am failing at, causing me worry, along with fitting into my skinny jeans, selling houses, writing my book and so on. So I quit!  I am embracing my potty mouth and simply using it responsibly. They are just words, after all, and only  have as much power as we give them. If anyone has a problem with that I may just have a few choice words for you! Ha! :-)

So that’s me.  What’s your vice? What gets you through the tough times at home and in the big bad world?