I did not want to not give into the Santa lives myth. Chris and I discussed this before the kids were born. I was adamant about not doing Santa. I wanted to avoid the consumerism of presents, presents, presents. And the whole lying thing just didn’t feel right to me. Even if it’s an innocent lie. I wanted our Christmas to be more about family and togetherness and less about “stuff.” Christmas can still be magical even without the myth.

I’ve told the kids from the start that Santa isn’t real. He’s a pretend character, like Thomas the Train. I also stressed that some people liked to believe that Santa is real. And that’s ok! There’s no reason to tell the people who believe that he isn’t real. I’ve found that it’s mostly adults who ask kids about Santa anyways. At least in my kids’ age groups. I didn’t want my kids to be responsible for ruining someone else’s holiday. Or worse, having a Santa + elves + reindeer show up on my doorstep one day.

This method worked. My kids didn’t ruin anyone’s holiday and I didn’t have to clean reindeer poop. We still read The Night Before Christmas and watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (oh man, do I have some opinions on that mess!). We had plenty of activities to celebrate the season. The halls stay plenty decked.

But this year we spent the holiday with my inlaws. I love my mother in law. Really. She’s awesome and I’ve never felt “less than” around her. But. She is a huge proponent of the myth of Santa. Huge. Her Christmas is magical because Santa is prominent feature. To each their own. She knows our Santa stance. She still asked Lex if Santa is bringing lots of toys. He answered honestly “Grandma, Santa isn’t real.” My mother in law insisted that Santa was real. I should probably have intervened but I’m a voyeur. Lex restated that Santa is NOT real because his parents told him so. My mother in law dropped it and walked away mumbling about how parents aren’t always right. So much side eye was happening from me.

I figured this was the end of that. I did a little happy dance in my head for raising a kid who is unafraid to state his belief in the face of adversity. Score one for me on the parenting scale.

On Christmas Eve Lex and I are reading The Night Before Christmas together and halfway through Lex stops and stares very hard at my MIL’s fireplace which is decked with in its holiday finest. Then he asks oh-so-innocently how Santa is going to get down the chimney with all the decorations in the way.

Insert record scratch sound here

Lex had decided on his own in the past few days that he wanted to believe the Santa myth. He wanted to believe in this particular brand of magic. And I was surprisingly ok with it. I’m his number one cheerleader, his support system, his soft and safe place to land. So if he chooses to play along with the idea of Santa knowing it’s a myth, I’m ok with it.

I may have my own idea about something and I may dictate my thoughts on the subject to my kids. Ultimately, it’s up them to decide for themselves what to believe. As long as what they believe in doesn’t involve hurting others or themselves, I’ll be there cheering them on. I can even admit that there’s little harm in acknowledging the myth and giving in to his desire for play. As long as I can steer the message away from “stuff” and more towards giving (we seriously do not need more stuff), I’m happy to indulge him.

As for the fireplace decorations? We moved them out of the way so Santa wouldn’t trip. Santa lives!

Hope your holidays were a happy one.

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So, I contributed to a book. I’m just as stunned as you are. It’s called Two under two – coping with a baby and a toddler.

Celia Anderson contacted me via Twitter and asked me to detail my experience as a mother who had two children under the age of two. Lex and Thalia are no longer under two. Lex is four and Thalia is two. She still found my experience valuable as someone who made it to the other side. These photos are from that toddler + baby phase.

That’s one of the wonderfully sad things about having kids; they continue to grow and change and the toddler + baby phase passes quickly. The days drag on f-o-r-e-v-e-r but the next thing you know they’re wiping their own butts and pouring themselves glasses of juice.

The book details subjects such as breastfeeding, how to deal with having more than one person who needs all your attention RIGHT NOW, how to facilitate bonding between the toddler and the baby, finances, dealing with teething when everyone decides to start growing teeth at the same time, and (I think this is one of the most important points) how to find time for yourself amidst the chaos and keep yourself sane.

It’s a great resource and I’m not just saying that because my interview takes up three pages. I wish I had this book available to me when mine were little. Instead I tried several failed attempts at joining mom groups to have someone to lean on and learn from. Reading this book would have much better use of my time.

Two under two – coping with a baby and a toddler is available as an ebook for Kindle users. So there’s no need to worry about your toddler finding it and ripping out the pages. You can purchase the book here.

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On the subject of Sandy Hook, my thoughts and and prayers are with those families. I can not imagine anything more horrific or terrifying. I can not imagine all those Christmas presents that will never be unwrapped. I can not imagine the overwhelming sadness and heaviness that will shadow those families, not just today or on the day of funeral but every year following. I can not imagine how the child survivors feel after what they witnessed. The guilt they’ll feel after knowing what happened to their friends and teachers.

The unimaginable horrors of the entire experience are simply that.

Unimaginable.

I spent the days afterward hugging my children and giving into nearly all their demands. It’s not fair that those parents will never be able to hug their children or spend a day spoiling them. It’s not fair that those children will never grow up and experience their first kiss, their first love, their first drink. Those children will never have any more firsts. It’s not fair and it’s infuriating.

I’m sure in the next coming days and weeks more explanations and theories will be brought to light and discussed endlessly over various mediums. The blame will be spread over several sources. But none of these things matter.

It doesn’t matter why he did it. It doesn’t matter if he was “crazy” or liked playing violent video games. It doesn’t matter if he obtained the guns legally or not.

All that matters, all I can continue to think about, are those parents. And their unimaginable unbearable sadness and grief. The unimaginable paralyzing feeling of having to pick a small coffin that fits their child. The unimaginable heaviness that must come over them whenever they have to walk past their child’s room full of toys and memories and know that those memories are that remains.

I can’t imagine it. And I grieve for those families that have to experience it.

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