Circle Slash Santa Claus

"There's a precise moment when we reject contradiction. This moment of choice is the lie we will live by. What is dearest to us is often dearer to us than the truth."

--Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces

I have a confession to make: I hate Santa Claus.

Not the man himself, but the subterfuge, deception and confusion that go along with the myth.

This is the year that my kids have finally realized that there is no Santa Claus. And I am kind of relieved. I never wanted to do Santa in the first place.

From the time my older son was a toddler and first starting to hear about Santa Claus I told my husband that I didn't want to do the whole "Santa thing" because I didn't want to have to tell lies to my child.

I know this is going to push buttons for some people, calling  the perpetuation of the Santa myth "telling lies." I want you to know that I do not judge anyone for doing this, I just didn't want to do it myself.

For one thing, I am a terrible liar. I have about a million "tells." I pause, I look away, I punctuate my speech with "uhs" and "ums." I am sure my face lights up with a big neon sign that says, "LIAR!" I am just not good at telling untruths.

And I have made a right mess of this Santa business.

The first few years I did okay. A big Teddy Bear around year two was well-loved. The Polar Express train set in year four was a big hit. Then things kind of hit the skids.

Three years ago the boys wanted a Wii.

This was 2008. We were living on half of our previous income. We didn't know if my husband was going to have a job come the new year. Business had ground to a halt much earlier than usual and predictions for 2009 were grim.  We just could not afford to buy a Wii.

So I got online and found what I thought was the next best thing: Swing Zone Sports. It had the same games as the Wii (albeit with inferior graphics) and was on sale for $25.

I was so excited. The kids were going to get what they wanted and we didn't have to go into debt to pay for it.

The excitement lasted one day.

The kids were happy when they opened it and played it all day long. It was fun. It worked like the Wii. It was a win-win!

The next day my older son came to me with a confused look on his face, "Mommy, why didn't Santa bring us a real Wii?"

Shit!

My heart sank as I scrambled to come up with a plausible story. "Uh, well, um, huh? I guess-s-s....Santa must have run out. Lots of kids wanted a Wii this year and he must have just not had enough so he brought the next best thing. Swing Zone is fun isn't it?"

"Yes, but....I really wanted a Wii."

Double shit.

I apologized and said something about Santa doing the best he could and we moved on.

The next year things were a bit better for us financially, but we still needed to be careful around the holidays and we had started to fight the video game fight in a big, bad way.

Besides a Wii, of course, both boys really wanted a Nintendo DS. We gave each of them a bad habit challenge: if they broke their bad habit, they got a DS. Our older son met his challenge in 4 weeks, so we had to pony up and we became a DS household.

After about two weeks I was ready to throw that thing in the garbage.

Although it belonged to our older son, both boys got to play it and there were rules about how much time they had and who got to go first and when it could be played, etc. All of which caused more fighting and anger in our household than we had seen in a very long time.

So when Christmas rolled around again, I was not inclined to add another video game system to the mix.

As "luck" would have it, someone had given us an Xbox earlier that year that we had yet to be able to use (it had come with the wrong cables) so we decided that for Christmas this year we would get the Xbox working and get the kids a whole bunch of new games.

It went down pretty much the same way as it had the previous year. The Xbox was really cool for a few days and then the question came, "Mommy, why didn't Santa get us a Wii? I hate Santa. He never gets us what we want."

Triple shit!

I thought about it for a moment and then I decided I had to take one for the team and let Santa off the hook, so I said, "Honey, it's not Santa's fault. I told him not to bring a Wii this year because we already had an Xbox."

The look on his face was priceless. It is the exact look a child gets when told that their parent has gone behind their back to kill their dream. My son ran out of the room, crying and screaming, slammed his bedroom door and threw himself down on this bed to weep.

It cut me to the quick, but there was no backing out now. I had to stick to my story or kill Santa forever.

So I wiped his tears and soothed his hurt and apologized profusely for interfering in his relationship with Santa and we moved on.

Which is why it came as something of a relief when this year, a few weeks before Christmas he came to me and said, "Mom, does Santa really exist?"

I looked at him and I realized that I just did not have one more believable lie in me and I asked him, "Do you really want to know the truth?" And he said, "Yes." So I gave it to him straight.

He said, "I thought so, because we never got what we wanted. And anyway, last year I got out of bed and saw you and dad putting the presents under the tree so you didn't fool me."

This is the story he is telling anyone who will listen, and his younger brother has adopted it as well, since once the news was out there was no stopping it from spreading.

(I did ask them not to ruin it for kids they know who still believe, but I have the feeling that sometimes they just can't help themselves from spreading the word since in elementary school knowledge = power.)

I feel a little bit sad about the end of Santa at our house, although I am not quite sure what I am sad about. Am I sad that they no longer believe? Am I sad because I totally botched it? Or am I sad because I spread the untruth in the first place, against my gut feeling that it was not a good idea?

I am not against magic and wonder. I want my kids to have that and to have it in spades, but I am just not sure the whole Santa myth is the best way to give that to our children. The whole thing seems set up to wound and disappoint.

Most kids are never going to get everything they want so there is disappointment built-in. On top of that we tie the disappointment to their behavior - Santa would have brought you everything you wanted IF YOU WERE GOOD. Even though this is completely irrelevant in most cases. (I don't know of any parents who give presents based on behavior.)

Why not just tell the story of Saint Nicholas and his good deeds, or the birth of Christ and his life of service, and share the spirit of giving with our children in a way that does not commercialize or stigmatize or disappoint?

I am not sure what I am going to do this year. 

Part of me is tempted to hide all of their gifts, pretend not to get them any and then have Santa come through in the clutch with a bevy of gifts. 

Another part of me is tempted to throw in the towel on the whole Santa thing (no Santa photos, no Santa talk, no Santa books) and try and create our own version of Christmas that includes lots of love and a little bit of magic, but no untruths.

In any case, this year the kids are finally getting a Wii. I hope that feels at least a little bit magical (until the fighting starts).

Emanating Love

"Emanate love to all in your sphere without distinction or prejudice." 

--Sunyata Satchitananda from the website www.mythiclove.net

I went to a Holiday concert this week that a friend of mine and her children were performing in. It was a lovely performance; the director was enthusiastic, the songs were uplifting and everyone seemed to be having a great time.

There was one woman in the choir who particularly stood out for me. She was standing in the back, not doing anything special, but as she sang she just radiated love.

I watched her closely throughout the whole concert, trying to figure out her secret. I studied her face to try and see what was different.

Physically, there was nothing special about her face. It was more attractive then some, less attractive than others, but a pretty basic human face. Still, there was something about it that went beyond the physical.

Her face was open. Her face was loose and broad and radiant. Her face was smiling all the time.

I kept finding myself thinking: I want to do that.

And asking the question that followed: How do you do that?

As I continued to look at the woman with the radiant face what I saw was Total Acceptance. Of herself and of others. She truly loved herself and therefore had no reason to hate anyone else.

I know that I am not there yet, but I hope that's where I'm headed.

A Little Ego Before Breakfast

"True wealth is the ability to let go of your possessions."

--Yogi Tea tea bag

The other morning I was sitting on my yoga mat doing my meditation thing when my husband got up and started to make himself a little breakfast.

He was rustling around in the kitchen, opening packages and clanging dishes and I started to feel the annoyance rising. 

Not, as you might assume, because he was making noise, but because I thought he was helping himself to some of MY special granola.

Ever since finding Thrive I have been trying to eat raw foods a little more often because I like the way it makes me feel. The other day at Whole Foods I saw this raw food granola that looked amazing. I decided to treat myself even though it cost more than twice as much as I usually spend on a box of cereal and is about a third of the size. I did not anticipate that anyone else in the family would want anything to do with my raw food granola.

Yet, there I was - trying to meditate - and there he was, in the kitchen, eating all of MY cereal.

I was completely out of the zone at this point, my mind going crazy with this idea that he was eating my granola.

I think he’s eating my granola.

Why does he have to eat my granola?

Can’t he just eat the other cereal in there?

I’ll bet he’s going to have a HUGE bowl and there will be hardly any left for ME.

He doesn’t even like raw foods.

Can’t he just leave my granola alone?

This went on for awhile before I caught myself.

Oh. Wait. He’s not eating my granola. He’s eating the mini box of Wheaties I got at the half marathon earlier this month and told him he could have.

Whew.

And then I really caught myself.

WHAT am I doing?

I am begrudging the man I love a bowl of granola.

A BOWL OF GRANOLA.

I started to list for myself all of the reasons that this was completely absurd:

1)       The bag was still three-quarters of the way full;

2)       If he did happen to eat all of it - as unlikely as that was - I could go out and buy myself another bag;

3)       As the primary bread-winner in our household he should be able to eat a bowl of the granola he worked to pay for if he wants to;

4)       I am planning on spending more than $8 on his Christmas present this year. Maybe I should just get him his own bag of raw granola instead;

5)       It’s just cereal. It’s not like he ate the last dark chocolate-covered mint joe-joe (he knows better than that...).

But not even one thing on this list is the real point.

The real point, of course, is that this kind of thinking is exactly the opposite of what I am trying to achieve by sitting there in meditation. And a bowl of granola is such a silly thing to get my mind in a twist about.

But my ego is tricky like that. It likes to catch me off guard in just this way, at just these times.

There I was, sitting in meditation, feeling all at peace with the world and suddenly it’s the Raw Food Granola Crisis.

It’s laughable really.

So when I was done meditating, I went into the kitchen and told my husband about it and we had a good laugh.

(And he promised never to eat my special granola....)

JOY!

"Joy Alone is the Truth."

--The Universe

This is one of my favorite quotes for the holidays (I used it last year as well), maybe because it is such a great reminder for me to put my focus on the joy of the season rather than the stress. 

In that vein (and in the tradition of 3BTs) here are a few things that are bringing me joy this holiday season:

1) Dark chocolate-covered mint Joe-Joes (like Oreos) from Trader Joe's - best cookie EVER and only available October through December;

2) Hearing songs from A Charlie Brown Christmas and Love, Actually on the radio and looking forward to watching both. (Click here to hear my favorite song from Charlie Brown and here to hear my fav from Love, Actually);

3) Shopping from the comfort of my own home and having the presents delivered to my door;

4) Finding the perfect present for those I love and beautifully wrapping it;

5) Making my own holiday cards (and tee shirts too!) with some of my favorite quotes on them at www.zazzle.com.

What is bringing you joy this holiday season?

You just never know...

"The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And, yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human. But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful." 

--Elizabeth Edwards

When I told my husband I was going to use this quote on my blog this week his first response was, "She was mean you know."

"What do you mean she was mean?" I asked.

"Elizabeth was mean to John. She was horrible to everyone on his staff. She was mean-spirited and a first-class [beast]."

I'll admit that it gave me pause. For about thirty seconds. 

And then I thought: Who isn't mean? Or hasn't been at one time or another? 

Is there a person alive about whom it could not be said: She was mean to her spouse. He was horrible to people who worked for him? She was mean-spirited. He was a first-class [jerk]?

What is the "truth" about Elizabeth and John Edwards? Was she mean to him because he was a philanderer or was he a philanderer because she was mean to him? 

The "truth" is, we can never know for sure.

There are two sides - at least - to every story and a multitude of ways to sum up a life. This was how Elizabeth summed up hers and whatever the "truth" behind her life, I find it inspirational. I hope you do too.

WWBD (What Would Buddha Do?)

"A philosopher was asked: 'What, then, is our duty?' And his answer, in short, was: 'It is what the day requires.'"

--From an article by Cheryl Christy, a breast cancer fighter for 17 years.

The other day I set out from home with a "to do" list six hours long and three hours in which to accomplish it. 

In addition this was supposed to have been a "writing day," and I was hoping to get home "early" and squeeze in a hour of writing before I had to go and pick the kids up from school.

Needless to say, things didn't work out quite as I had planned. 

Everywhere I went there were people who needed me: I ran into a friend of a friend who had just been laid off and needed a hug, I ran into a grocery store worker who just needed someone to talk to, and as I pulled up outside of my house, I ran into a neighbor who needed some sympathy. 

Each time I saw the person right before they saw me and thought to myself, "Ooh! There's so-and-so, they are probably going to want to talk. I don't really have time for that.....doh! They saw me."

At that moment I could feel my stomach lurch and my heart sink, knowing I was caught. 

But I also knew that "caught" was where I was supposed to be. 

It's all very well for me to sit here with my laptop, typing about Oneness and Unity and Love; it's quite another having to put it into practice in the world. 

What do you do when the day doesn't go as planned? When what is required is talking to someone in pain when you don't have the time? Staying home with a sick child when all you want to do is get some work done? 

What I used to do is get angry and rail against whatever - or whomever - it was that got in my way. Sometimes an interrupted plan could cost me a whole day of anger and frustration. Sometimes I would get so angry I'd feel like I had an anger "hangover" the next day. 

Now it's just uncomfortable. My chest gets tight, my stomach feels queasy, my breathing quickens and I know I need to take a step back, take a deep breath and remember that my meditation practice and my reading and my writing don't mean a thing if I turn my back on a person standing in front of me with pain in their heart. 

Sometimes what the day requires is putting aside my "to do" list for the one God has written for me. I imagine it would go something like this:

Love Your Children

Love Your Husband

Love Your Friends

Love Your Neighbors

Love Everyone

Then do the grocery shopping.

What to do when you don't know what to do....

“When someone you know is overwhelmed by life, confronted by obstacles that are a little too heavy to carry alone, it’s easy to feel unsure of how to respond. That’s the time to remember it’s not what you do, but that you do something.  Often, we don’t realize that what may seem like a small gesture or an insignificant act to us can actually make a meaningful difference in someone’s life....There are no perfect words, no perfect gestures.  Simply reach out and touch someone’s heart.  Be brave, be a little more generous, be kind.”

--From Gwyneth Paltrow's blog GOOP about the book Do Good: 201 Ways to Lend a Hand by Marcy Silverman and Cindy Sacks

I love this. It feels a little bit like an instruction manual for life, in one short paragraph. 

It really spoke to me because I do feel like that in the face of someone else's pain. Paralyzed. 

It's the same way I feel in the face of my own in fact. I just go flat and I have absolutely no idea what to do or what to say. 

I think this advice works equally well for others and for self when fear and pain and overwhelm come up: "...[I]t's not what you do, but that you do something....Be brave, be a little more generous, be kind."

  

And it feels like a good thing to keep in mind around this time of year when it can feel like there is just way too much to do and not nearly enough time to do it.

  

(BTW...This book is on sale right now at Amazon.com for $2.40. $2.40! For a book!)