The Mister and I are terrible parents on Christmas. Really, we’re the worst.
First of all, Santa doesn’t come to our house. We boycott Santa. We do our best not to lie to, or disillusion our children about anything. We also try to control the behavior of our children by encouraging them to develop a conscience. That means whether or not some creepy fucking elf, or some old man in a red suit can see your behavior, you do, and God does, too. An omniscient Santa is far too powerful for our house. Plus, Santa doesn’t work hard to provide for this family: The Mister does. And while Santa doesn’t mind providing bicycles and baby dolls, he’s not even the slightest bit interested in bringing iPads to ten-year-olds.
Second, we sleep in. Mhm. None of that five o’clock in the morning crap.
We let them get at their stockings while we coffee, but that’s all.
We do pancakes in pajamas on Christmas morning.
Third, in order to open presents, everyone must be ready. Ready translates to being dressed, hair groomed, teeth brushed, rooms clean, and beds made. We are cruel, and we delight in their anticipation. We enjoy exercising our power and dominance like that.
Fourth, we don’t measure out the quantity of gifts so that if Moo gets four LaLaLoopsies, Sassy gets four books, Sissy gets four Pandora charms, and Bubba gets four Xbox games. Haha! NO. Also, while what Bubba wants might cost hundreds, it doesn’t mean we’re going to ply all the girls with hundreds of dollars worth of gifts. We’ve never played into tit-for-tat with gifts, or compulsory “so-everything-looks-even” presents, because generosity of spirit has nothing to do with math.
Fifth, we don’t go anywhere. We don’t go to Grandma’s, or to the movie theater, or anywhere else. For us, it’s a day to spent at home with family. Initially this almost killed my MIL, but she adapted.
I would say it’s a day of rest, but like most mothers, I work harder on Christmas than the average day. The children are trapped at home, where they are forced to watch movies, play games, eat yummy food, and get lots of snuggles.
I like to think I design Christmas…
I’m certain the children dread it every year. You can see it on their faces.