Chain Reaction of Mental Anguish

Among the thousands of things that, pre-children, I thought I would never do, I was not planning on pushing the whole “Santa’s watching you and he only brings gifts if you’re good” bit.  But before kids it also makes sense that discipline tips like calmly saying no or going to time out might actually work.  The reality is that the only thing that works is threatening to THROW AWAY EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF HALLOWEEN CANDY IF YOU HIT YOUR BROTHER AGAIN.  So I’ve been floundering since early November and after a strenuous morning, I suddenly remembered that Santa has a naughty and a nice list.  After I told Rush that only good boys get presents and bad boys get coal, he tilted his head, looked me in the eye, and said, “Thomas has coal.”

Backfire!  Damn tank engine.

A lot of wonderful holiday traditions have been a source of stress lately.  At dusk, the blue lights on a strand of multi-colored lights don’t look like they’re working, tears.  Someone didn’t take a nap, let’s start ripping ornaments off the tree.  We’re still eating dinner, so it’s time to start getting upset about blowing out the candles on the Advent wreath.  And the Advent calendar:  75% disaster, 25% fun.

There’s still an unpacked Rubbermaid box in the dining room, filled with Christmas plates and coffee mugs and a cookie jar shaped like a snowman.  It makes me sad to see it, because is that the first step to becoming someone who is not decorating because it’s too much work?  Putting out the decorations isn’t too much work, it’s getting the kitchen clean for ten minutes so I can find a spot for the stuff that’s the problem.

I felt better about the close-to-failing state of Christmas spirit at our house when we went to Rush’s school party today.  Two kids cried when Santa walked in and Rush waved, but did not want to sit on his lap or get very close.  The experience helped move me further towards a zen stage where instead of calling my mom and Trent’s mom to figure out a plan for Christmas Eve/Day, I’m just going to talk to them when I see them and devise a plan that will minimize tears.

It sounds like a downer, but it’s really not all tears and tantrums around here.  I mean, it’s mostly tears and tantrums, but we have our moments.  For the first time in years, Trent hasn’t scheduled a major home renovation or woodworking project for the month of December.  It’s wonderful, better than I could have imagined, to have him available to help.  He baked cookies for Rush’s teachers and stamped our return address on our Christmas cards and hopefully, hopefully, we will find time to watch a Christmas movie together.

We’re just merging the tough moments –when I turned into Marsha Mason in The Goodbye Girl (minus getting mugged, thankfully) in the Kroger parking lot last night when a carton off eggs fell out of the cart and smashed and then a huge bag of canned goods tipped over in the middle of the parking lot and started rolling away- with the good moments –pause, pause, pause, trying to think of something Christmas related that has gone smoothly…um…damn…come on…well, that’s the point isn’t it?  We’re healthy, we have people who love us, we await the coming of Christ.

That’s it:  Christmas morning may find all of us with a tender of coal, but we await the coming of Christ.