Do You Believe?

The most exciting day in my career as a fifth grader was the day of The School Christmas Party. Why yes, I am old enough to officially say, "Back in my day, we called it Christmas...not The Holidays. And we all lived."

Fifth graders had the prestigious honor of donning Santa Claus hats and parading around the school as Santa's elves to hand out candy canes to the younger kids. I couldn't wait. 

I was a nerdy kid with the keen ability to take any situation and blow it wildly out of proportion.

On the day of the big parade, the fifth grade teachers sat down 60 kids hopped up on Christmas break jitters to explain how the festivities would work.

Except...well...

Everyone knows it is of the utmost importance to blend into your surroundings and not draw attention to oneself in the fifth grade. If a popular kid makes fun of you, you get blacklisted and are suddenly eating lunch by yourself. 

Upon hearing my teacher's proclamation, I noticed my classmates did not jump onto their desks demanding Mrs. Shaw be arrested for slander. In fact, there was a lot of solemn, knowing nodding going on around me. 

I had to keep it together.

Somewhere the lines of communication had broken down. Notes had been sent home to parents about the Christmas parade, but apparently the school did not include any information like, "Oh by the way, we plan on crushing your child's hopes and dreams by letting them know you, as parents, have been lying to them for the past 10 years about their favorite holiday. Merry Christmas!"

This information might have been useful for someone like my mother who was on a different timeline than everyone else's parents.

We lined up to begin the Christmas parade. I was not the harbinger of All Things Christmas I had previously imagined.

I didn't have the heart to tell my parents what I learned in school..."I'll give them one last Christmas." So on Christmas Eve I went to bed knowing the empty stockings and Christmas tree would be overflowing with gifts in the morning - put there lovingly by my parents.

That night I was in my room contemplating existentialism when I heard a noise on the roof of our silent house.

My newly wizened self was sure there would be some logical explanation for a noise on the roof on Christmas Eve. A really fat squirrel chasing a raccoon. A UFO making a pit stop on its way to Nevada. 

But...what if...

My heart quickened. 

I raced out of my room.

I went back to my bedroom to pout. 

When the noise from above came again.

Ten whole minutes passed and I couldn't take it a second longer. I ran out of my bedroom into the silent house.

On Christmas morning I made a beeline to the small package I had found in my stocking the night before. An orange bracelet that neither my father or mother could remember purchasing sat in the box.

And how could they remember buying it...? They hadn't.

Santa had brought it to me.

So this year remember, Christmas is a time to hope, dream the impossible and keep the magic alive for just a little longer.

And question everything your fifth grade teacher told you.

Happy holidays all!

You're Welcome, In Advance

Turns out Christmas is THIS weekend and not 3 weekends away as I was imagining it to be. Boy, that came as a shock.

Every holiday season, there comes a day (read: Christmas Eve) where I head out to some general Buy Crap Here store because I have bought zero presents and am left to find the perfect gift among the remnants left by savvy shoppers who finished their shopping on Thanksgiving. I usually have a meltdown somewhere in the midst of trying to decide if my mother would prefer a birthday cake scented candle gift set or another pair of plaid pajamas startlingly reminiscent to the set I bought last year.

I'm not sure if you guys have heard of this thing called the Internet, but it's pretty amazing.

But this post isn't about Christmas shopping and how I want to make out with Amazon and its two-day free shipping because now I don't need to step foot in a mall.

This post is about The Holiday Card.

One of the main perks of becoming a parent is the seemingly easy holiday card business. Get a shot of the kid, choose a bland holiday saying, order a postcard, print labels and send. No handwritten, customized blurbs. No finding a cute, but poignant, but funny, but serious holiday card. 

Easy.

As long as you remember to order the card.

Which I didn't.

So on Saturday, I was standing in my grocery store when I remembered I needed to do holiday cards. The display table wasn't inspiring: 3 boxes of cards showcasing the Virgin Mary, Baby Jesus and a Bible verse, 1 box adorned with a menorah and a box of cards with Precious Moments figurines in a nativity scene had been opened and rifled through.

Maybe I could wait and do New Year's cards? Or Valentine's Day cards...people wouldn't expect that; it could become our shtick.

And I headed home feeling guilty. Convinced The Bean would find out that for her first Christmas I didn't dress her up like an elf and send a photo of her to every person we ever met. What kind of therapy would she need to overcome that?

Then I thought for a minute. The Internet! It MUST be able to help!

20 minutes and $4 later, I had myself a mother-loving Christmas miracle which we sent out today AND saved trees (PLUS! now my friends aren't left with the awkward decision of determining when is the appropriate day to throw out all the photos they received of people's kids - January 18th, FYI).

Happy holidays!

This free digital greeting card made with Smilebox