The Christmas I denied my son divine connection

Bringing Up Mommy

McClatchy-Tribune News Service

First published 2008

"Don't play the martyr" and other lessons of Christmas

                                                      
  


Bringing Up Mommy newspaper column
Syndicated by McClatchy-Tribune News Service
First published 2011

Every Christmas, I learn a few lessons the hard way.

There was the year my baby swallowed a poisonous yew berry – which he eventually, blessedly, passed intact, but only after much hysteria from his mother. 

Lesson: Don’t let baby crawl around on the floor while you’re making the holiday wreath. Better yet: Buy a wreath for $10 at the Christmas-tree farm, thus conserving your time and emotional energy for the important have-tos of Christmas, like tending your children.

There was the year I made Christmas pillows for everybody in the family. By the time I got to my pillow, I didn’t have enough stuffing. Now, every year at Christmas, the sight of the pitiful understuffed half-pillow becomes a point of reflection on Mom’s low self-esteem. 

Lesson: Don’t play the martyr at Christmas. It will always backfire on you.

There was the year I told my mother I was cutting back on the many overwhelming traditions of Christmas. This was an announcement she applauded, since she never figured out how to scale back herself. She lauded my decision, that is until I told her that part of my cutback included not making her favorite Christmas candy.  

Lesson: Avoid making your mother cry at Christmas.

Now, here we are at the beginning of a new year. As thoughts turn forward toward the next 12 months, I also look back at the holiday just passed, an intensely meaningful, intensely busy season full of peace and joy, but also regrets, mishaps and mistakes.  Here they are, then, the lessons of Christmas, learned the hard way:

1. Tie the Christmas tree to the wall. No matter how ergonomically correct your tree stand claims to be, trees aren’t really meant for standing unrooted in  houses for long periods of time.

2. After the tree  falls down, check immediately for wet and otherwise damaged presents under the tree. He didn’t say so, but I believe my husband was disappointed that the copy of George Carlin’s memoirs he unwrapped on Christmas morning was soggy with old Christmas-tree water.  

3.       Getting sick a few days before Christmas is not as bad as you might think. You don’t eat as much. You don’t drink as much. And when the Christmas tree falls down, you get a pass on sweeping up broken candy canes, putting the ornaments back on the tree and anchoring the tree to the wall.

4.       Complete not only your gift shopping, but your grocery shopping way in advance. My friend found herself at two different stores Christmas Eve night looking for ingredients for dinner. She eventually gave up and took the family to Arby’s.

5.       Making and decorating cookies  is a lot more fun in theory than in practice. Consider another Christmas tradition, like napping.

6. Before -- not if -- you shop online (worth every penny of shipping and handling), make sure you are computer savvy.  Don’t wait until Christmas morning to discover you were supposed to click “complete order,”  which you only realized when your niece calls to say “Merry Christmas!” and “Oh, by the way, just so you know, I’m the only one in my family who didn’t get a present from you.”

7.      Don’t forget where you hid Baby Jesus. Although not as functionally bad as losing a dyed egg somewhere in the house on Easter, losing Jesus, which your youngest likes to place in the manger first thing Christmas morning, does not send a good message about the meaning of the season.

8.       On Christmas morning, place next to the Christmas tree a large bag or box, ready to fill with return items. Immediately whisking into the return bucket those items that don't fit, work, or register on the face of the recipient will lessen the emotional impact on the giver, usually me. (See above-mentioned lesson on avoiding making mother cry).

9.       Along these lines, do not accept any Christmas shopping lists after Dec. 20, even if the list is coming from your college-student son who says he can’t possibly come up with a list until exams are over. Tell him the only size M clothes left in the store on Dec. 20 will be the kind like Dad wears.

10.    All holiday cookies, candies and cakes placed in front of you will be eaten, despite what Dr. Phil tells you about how you can will yourself into eating only carrots if you imagine yourself standing next to Bradley Cooper in a bikini. You know you will, during the first days of January, have some fairly deep regrets about how much peppermint bark you ate. And you’ll want to diet -- that’s die with a “t” -- as a result. But quit with the conflict. Eat the cookies, for God’s sake, as you remember  dieting  is what the bleak midwinter is for. 

Happy New Year to all, and to all, a good night.