A few nights ago we watched the movie "Christmas Every Day" in which a little girl makes a wish that every day would be Christmas, much to the chagrin of her big brother, Billy. But if Billy thought he had it rough reliving Christmas day after day, what about parents?
As a child, the words I associated with the holidays were "festive," "bright," "joyful," "merry," "gay" (meaning joyful, glad, cheerful), "fun" and other positive words. Today, more often than not, Christmas is described with less positive adjectives: "hectic," "harrowing" (especially if your're in heavy traffic on snowy roads or in a crowd all trying to grab the last of this year's hot ticket item), "exhausting," "chaotic," and "over-commercialized." We've gone from "Can't wait 'til Christmas" to "Can't wait 'til it's over." And I began thinking about how Christmas is different for children than it is for adults, and why we look back with fond memories while dreading the present holiday season. Even those of us who love Christmas wouldn't want it every day of the year.
As children, we reap all the benefits without having to do any of the work. We build snowmen, go sledding and ice skating, build snow forts and have snowball fights, write letters to Santa, and sit on Santa's knee at the store telling him all the wonderful things we want him to bring us. We color holiday pictures, sing carols, and watch Christmas programs on TV. In short, we get to do the fun stuff. Meanwhile, what are our parents doing?
While we're out playing, our mothers slave over a hot stove baking special holiday goodies, buy and wrap gifts, disrupt an otherwise orderly household to make room for holiday decorations, address/lick/stamp countless cards, then cart those cards and packages for out of town friends and relatives to the post office where they wait in long, slow lines, often with cranky, tired children in tow. Then they must take those same cranky, tired children to see Santa, read them holiday stories, help them make or address their own Christmas cards, put up countless holiday pictures brought home from school, buy gifts for teachers, bake cookies for school parties, make costumes and coach lines for plays and pageants, then attend those plays, pageants, and concerts, too.
Mothers and fathers wrestle Christmas trees into stands, untangle and string lights only to discover--after the tree is all decorated--that some have burned out and need replacing, guide young hands in helping to decorate the tree, pretending not to care when old, treasured ornaments are dropped and broken, and turn a blind eye when the tree looks more messy than festive. Then, on Christmas Eve, they struggle to get excited children to sleep who are determined to stay awake to spy on Santa. By the time they have cleaned the house, finished the baking, wrapped the gifts and put them under the tree, stuffed the stockings, and climbed into bed long after midnight, parents are exhausted.
Then, often before the sun is up, the children are screaming, "He came! Santa came!" and heavy eyelids are pried open, smiles and bathrobes are put on, and parents try to oversee the opening of gifts, making sure one doesn't open another's toy, and refereeing when there are disputes over ownership or someone doesn't want to share. While children set off to play and fathers retreat to read the paper, mothers clean up the discarded wrapping paper and ribbons, put the room back in some semblance of order, then report to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Depending on the ages of the children, they help kids get dressed for the day, then back to the kitchen to prepare dinner and ready the house for guests. Setting the table, serving the meal, clearing the table, doing the dishes, and, if there are no visitors, perhaps finally getting a chance to sit down and relax for a minute. If there are guests, however, relaxation yields to conversation and seeing that visitors are entertained. Then the dinner process is repeated at supper time, the house has to be straightened up before bed, and by the time the children are settled for the night and company has gone home, mothers finally fall into bed, the day a total blur, thinking about the thank you notes they will have to write not only for themselves, but for each of their children--or at least oversee the writing of the children's thank you notes. That means more writing/sealing/stamping, and another trip to the post office. And then there are the trips to various stores to exchange things that are the wrong size, wrong style, or just plain wrong.
In some homes, the tree comes down Christmas Day, in some it stays up until New Year's Day, and in others until Twelfth Night (Epiphany). But at some point, the tree has to come down, and it is usually the mothers who have to remove and pack away the ornaments and lights, and help the father wrestle the tree out of the stand and out of the house for pickup by the sanitation department. Is it any wonder that parents are glad Christmas comes only once a year? And why do they go through all of this? So they can make wonderful memories for their own children to remember and cherish when they are grown.
Now that I'm getting older, I understand why my mother down-sized Christmas in later years. I, too, find the refrain "simplify, simplify" playing in my mind. Sometimes we have to minimize the work of Christmas in order to preserve the wonder of Christmas. After all, it's not the presents we need every day, but the presence--the spirit of Christmas that reaches out to others in selfless giving, stands up for those who are oppressed, and recognizes our common bond with our fellow man. If you have to cut back a bit in order to enjoy the season, isn't it better to downsize some of the trappings so you can perhaps rekindle some of that excitement and joy you had as a child?
Next time: Suggestions for Simplifying the Holidays
