No, I'm Not Doing Santa with My Child, and No, I'm not a Bad Mom because of it
It was 5am on Christmas morning and I was itching
to get downstairs. Santa had come I just knew it! And let me tell you, when my
parents pried their exhausted bodies out of bed and we went downstairs, I saw
that The Big Guy did not disappoint. Deer tracks were outside in the snow, only
crumbs were left from the cookies and carrots my brother and I left out for
Santa and his reindeer, and when I looked under the tree and there it was. A
ballet bar, a real ballet bar, was awaiting me. I couldn't believe it! Was I
really that good over the course of this past year? I lied to my parents
that one time. I spilled my milk. Were those things not as bad as my guilt told
me they were? Wow, that's pretty awesome! What a gracious guy! How giving! This
Santa guy, what a stellar dude!
Obviously, as a child I had a great Santa
experience, let’s face it, the man spoiled me. But I also remember how worried
I was that I would disappoint him. From December 26 to the morning of December
25 the following year, I was obsessively worrying that I would wake up on
Christmas morning and find coal in my stocking. The paranoia and anxiety I felt
were mostly self-inflicted but those feelings are something I still have not
forgotten. And while I realize that this is not the experience for most, I
can't help but worry my son will feel this too. I can't help but see how my son
is like me, how his emotions are so big. Would he obsess about being on the
good list the way I did? Would he be wracking his brain to calculate how many
"bad" things he did that year? Would he barely sleep the night before
not just because he was excited to see what presents were under the tree but
also because he was trying to figure out how to explain to everyone why he got
coal if that were in fact the case? Or would he find the simply joy and magic
in all Santa represented? I guess we'll never know because my husband and I
decided not to do Santa with our son. This was not a decision my husband and I
took lightly and in fact, it was a decision that was fretted about over the
course of several years. We knew what we could potentially be taking away from
him, we knew the possibility of him ruining it for other kids, and we knew we'd
have to have a rock solid explanation as to why his friends were getting presents
from Santa but he wasn't. We recognized this that was an unpopular decision and
while we understood many would disagree with us, in our heart of hearts we knew
this was the path we needed to take.
My husband and I have vowed to be as truthful with our son as possible
as he grows and while Santa may not seem like a lie to most, my husband and I
felt uncomfortable with it. Maybe part of it is because we dread that stupid
elf and his stupid shelf or maybe we are lazy parents, or maybe? Maybe we just
couldn't buy into the whole thing. So on this Christmas morning, as we're all
surrounded with throngs of wrapping paper thrown about, please don't feel bad
for my child because he doesn't believe a jolly old man in a red suit magically
appeared in our house to provide us with gifts galore. A joyful spirit is still
alive, the gift of giving is very present, and my son will still have a magical
Christmas morning. No, I'm not doing Santa with my child, but please don't
worry because among those presents, wrapping paper, and bows will be an
abundance of love, giving, joy, and family. And those? Those are the things
Santa represents, even if his sleigh didn't theoretically stop at my house on
Christmas Eve.
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