Skip to main content

The Year Without Christmas

 I've handed over Christmas to Theo this year. I simply don't want to do it. Any of it. The little I have done feels obligatory. I bought each kid an ornament to symbolize something important about their year--as I do every year--but that's it.

I don't think there's any one reason I have absolutely zero Christmas spirit this year. But rather an accumulation of small things. 

a) Jane's weirdness around holidays has made me dread Christmas since the drama filled week before her birthday last Sept. 

b) The clutter in this house is getting too me. Too much time in a house filled with too many things--I want to throw it all away. The last thing I can stomach is adding more clutter to it. Last time I helped the kids clean their play room I was so angry about the chaos they created I told them I wasn't getting them a single toy for Christmas and I meant it. 

c) The unfinished dining room projects make me, not quite angry, but annoyed and exasperated every single time I walk through there. It should've been done by now. There is no excuse but laziness on Theo's part and I'm too frustrated about this long-simmering issue to feel light and joyful. 

And, finally, Christmas has become Theo's holiday.  He does an elaborate Advent with the kids. He is on a long fast and eagerly awaiting his giant Christmas feast. He does all the cooking now and there's little for me to do to prepare. 

And I'm stepping back from my role of always being the engine driving this family. Perhaps after 20 years of constantly planning, urging, and nagging I just don't want to anymore. If he's willing to make something happen then fine, please do. It's my turn to step back and be the uninvolved parent. It feels kind of nice, actually. 

I've proved for 20 years that our kids only need one parent doing the activities. Now it's his turn to be that parent.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Teaching "ouch"

I taught the girls to say ouch. When they first came to me their hair was a mess. Snarls, mismatched lengths where sections had been hacked off, thin and coarse hair that tangled in every hair clip I tried, etc. Due to a healthy diet and daily vitamins, as well as good hair products and regular brushing, their hair is now sleek and glossy. Jane has a cute haircut. Kate's hair is growing longer every day and curling into ringlets that bounce. I was so afraid of hurting them when they first came! I have naturally curly hair and my mother's is stick straight. She never understood how much it hurt when she pulled the brush straight through. I haven't let her touch my head since I could do my first clumsy pony tail. (At first, I held their hair so loosely while trying to do it that every single pony tail fell out minutes after going in. Looking back I feel like those people who don't know how to put a diaper on and it falls off when they lift the baby up!)  But eve...
Post a Comment
Read more

So What About Mother's Day?

I was looking ahead on the calendar to our next visit and suddenly realized it fell during Mother's Day weekend. A flood of mixed emotions hit me immediately. Mother's Day is not a deeply important holiday to me. It's nice and all but I've never had super big emotions about it.  The girls can't know what it is yet and won't have any big feelings this year. But...years from now...will this be a uniquely difficult holiday?  So if no one cares right now can I just kinda slide this one under the rug and avoid all the drama? Please, please, please someone confirm this is a real option!?! Ugh, but what about the birth family. Is this a big deal for them? Are there major traditions? Will this be a minefield of potential hurt feelings? Is there a tactful way to call them up and say, so, on a scale of 1 to 10 how invested are you into making this a big rigamarole? While thinking this through I did some googling and found that the local zoo does a special Mother...
Post a Comment
Read more

Flash Fiction - Guilt Free

And this one I wrote for the fun of it. It was delicious to wallow in such a world of self-indulgence I'll never know. This is flash fiction (less than 1,000 words). Guilt Free It was fudge sauce, thick and cold from the back of the fridge, dipped in gourmet raspberry jam—the kind from France with the understated label—straight onto a spoon and then suckled in my mouth, a frosty mug of milk tremoring faintly in my left hand, to be gulped in indelicate swaths allowing a dribble or two down my front, the first time I hit her. Not really hit. Shoved. A forceful push. A push that began with contact. The contact of my hand wedging so neatly between her small sharp shoulder blades, wedging in so that I almost could not retract myself from the catapulting force launching her into the tub. Not a hit—there was no smacking, cracking, sharp stinging rebound. No bruise. She’d laughed. She’d thought it was a game. Like when I clapped my hands together as she went up the stairs, cla...
Post a Comment
Read more