As we joined the rapidly growing line-up of fraught parents, frantic for their children to have a snapshot with Santa, I wondered if this madness might be something we endure... erm... enjoy, every year?
At almost three years old, this is the first year my eldest has shown an interest, so we figured we’d do the good parent thing and take her to see him. She reacted to the Big Guy quite well and while she beamed from Daddy’s knee sitting next to him, I silently panicked on the sidelines, scouting out possible breastfeeding locations among the crowd for our newborn, should she wake.
This was our first experience of what will be, I’m sure, an annual event, and although my nerves were left in tatters from the ruckus and intensity of it all, she’d had a great time and that’s all that matters.
It kind of reminded me of the time my very non-religious brother dragged himself and his two children out on a chilly pre-Christmas night to see Mary and her donkey parade through our little village back home. My then-childless self couldn’t understand why you’d stand outside in the cold to see the same donkey that was probably in our next door neighbour’s field the rest of the year.
“Why bother?” I asked him from a comfy spot on the couch inside the house.
“It’s all about entertaining the children,” he said, resolutely.
I get it now.
But, at the same time, I’d like Christmas to be more than just Santa, so it’s probably time to start laying down a few traditions of our own. Starting with a blank Christmas slate is quite exciting and after much mulling over of ideas, my husband and I settled on a few festivities that we’d like to adopt.
One is cutting down a Christmas tree. Unfortunately, that’s about as far as the idea has got because although I’m all about embracing my inner woodswoman, I’m bit of a nervous newbie when it comes to just about every aspect of this and may need to be adopted by a kind family who can show us the ropes. We also live in a townhouse with a bah-humbug strata who deny residents fresh-cut Christmas trees, so perhaps this tradition might have to be shelved until we have a place of our own.
What we did tackle though was the slightly ambitious but (for me, anyway) quite exciting project of creating a gingerbread house from scratch. Perhaps I should have known that juggling dinner while breastfeeding one child and entertaining the other might not be the prime time to also make gingerbread, but we attempted it regardless. It probably wasn’t my finest bit of baking. The charred edges give it a “gingerbread house fire” look, but I’m hoping a generous coating of icing, Smarties and chocolate buttons will forgivingly mask over any mistakes.
A simpler project was one that my Mom instigated while visiting recently. Having been out collecting pine cones with my toddler, the two of them sat down together dipping them in paint and rolling them in glitter. Nothing says Christmas more than a little sparkle, and they now glisten in a jar on our mantelpiece. And though glitter will now forever be in our lives (despite best efforts, you can never really clean it all up), it’s a Christmas craft idea that I think we’ll adopt every year. Thanks Mom!
Finally, there’s Christmas dinner. It’s just about my most favourite thing to cook (and eat), but whether it’ll be on the cards this year, I’m not sure. With all the madness swirling around it, it may suffer the same fate as the gingerbread and we may need to call in the mac ’n’ cheese back-up.
Realistically, our traditions will probably be in flux for a little while. Things may get easier as the girls get older and it may take us a while to nail them down but, really, as long as we’re all together as a family, what does it matter?
In fact, that’s my one true tradition and I’m sticking to it.