"Look, everyone is coming to see you," I said through gritted teeth. "You are going to get into this bunny costume." I avoided a potential meltdown by taking her to a quiet adjoining room and dressing her there. Q doesn't do chaos.
The show starts. I'm frustrated that I have to come sit in front of the stage with her when it's time for all the animals to go up. I'm frustrated that she won't sit on the steps like the other 3-year-olds. And I'm frustrated when she bangs her hip on the stage because she's not sitting nicely, and I have to rush her out of the sanctuary, crying, as the main song starts. You know, the song we'd practiced? "Come on," I urged, "Are you ready to go back now?"
"I need to go to the bathroom!" she says cheerfully, her face still wet with tears. I run her to the bathroom, urge her to go quickly, and run her back into the sanctuary just as the last few words of the song fade away. Guess who's frustrated, annoyed, and disappointed? Hint: not her.
She got to bring Hopson to church. She got to hop around in front of the stage like a bunny. She got to walk up close and see Mary and Joseph. She got to be in church with three grandparents and her daddy. She got a goody bag with candy and a Christmas story coloring book. I was the one pressuring her to participate, worried what the grandparents would think if she didn't perform properly. She's 3. I have been emphasizing to her how Christmas is about peacefulness and having fun and giving to other people like God gave to us, and I didn't practice what I preached. Hopefully I'll learn from my mistakes.
Okay, so that's what Christmas shouldn't be. But I've seen some beautiful examples this week of what it should be.
Q and I were coming out of a store, and a small group of toddlers was being led down the sidewalk by their caretakers. Most of them were a bit younger than Q, about age 2. They stopped, smiled, and pointed at her excitedly. Then one of them, a little girl, walked up to her and carefully handed her a little piece of those round, tinfoil-wrapped chocolates (which was a bit tricky, since they were both wearing mittens). "And what do you say to her?" one of the teachers prompted. "Happy birthday!" the girl cried enthusiastically, and repeated it: "Happy birthday!" (I'm assuming she was supposed to say "Merry Christmas.") Q was amazed at the small treasure in her hand and that a complete stranger had given it to her.
Here's what else Christmas should be: As soon as I strapped Q in the car, she told me she was going to share her chocolate with me when we got home. It was such a tiny piece of chocolate, it was hard for me to bite it without eating the whole thing, but Q insisted. And on mornings when she gets to eat a bit of the various Christmas candies she's been given this year, she always saves the last little piece for her dad and puts it on his desk until he wakes up. It will often be a couple of hours before he makes his way upstairs, but she leaves it there just for him and excitedly points it out as soon as he emerges.
Christmas is the rough-looking older gentleman with the backpack who stopped at the street corner to kneel down and pet and sweet talk a friendly black cat.
Christmas is how my mom dropped everything and flew up to Canada in her least favorite weather with only 3 days' notice to stay with me for an undetermined amount of time while I did battle with some awful anxiety.
Christmas is my mother-in-law leaving directly from work to go clean a 90-year-old lady's house for her because she's about to come home after an extended stay in B.C.
Christmas is our neighbor giving Q a giant (edible) candy cane because last year, Q used to lick the big, lighted (non-edible) candy cane decorations that lined our neighbor's sidewalk.
Christmas is being easy on myself for my shortcomings and embracing my humanity and my emotions, and not fighting them.
One of the most precious gifts you can give to your children during Christmastime is your own peace and sense of calm and enjoyment. If a certain tradition stresses you out (I'm looking at you, Elf on the Shelf), don't do it. If you're not a baking kind of person, don't do it. If gift giving isn't your thing, don't do it (excepting immediate family, of course--but even that needs to be done in moderation). Enjoy your tree, the lights outside, the hot chocolate, family getting together, and the story of the nativity told and re-told. Select which traditions are important to you. The way we celebrate Christmas sends a powerful message to our kids. And sometimes the most powerful message can be found in a tiny tinfoil ball of chocolate and a little girl saying, "Happy birthday!"
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