87 days

That’s right. There are 87 days until Christmas. You would not believe how much that fact fills my heart with dread.

WARNING: Don’t read this post with your kids who can read nearby.

I love my children with all my heart. If I could, I would give them everything their little hearts desire. But that wouldn’t exactly be conducive to raising kind, loving, grateful, respectful, or generous children. I feel that if my children never have to work for what they want, then they will never truly learn to love what they have.

That being said, there’s something about the excitement of Christmas morning, when they come bounding into our room and jump on our bed. The gleam in their eyes as they come down the hall to see all the presents left for them under the tree is such a magical thing to behold.

In our household Santa only fills the stockings. I wrote to him when the Goddess was young and explained that I felt that any large gift should be given from a real person so real gratitude could be expressed. Santa Claus may give a gift, but how can you truly express gratitude to a person you only see before Christmas at the mall? (That, and we are not exactly well off. We are better off than we were 8 years ago, but if we are spending a good chunk of our well earned money on gifts, I would like my children to know it was me that bought them.) And really, if you know that your parents spend their hard earned money, and bought your gift with love in their hearts, then (theoretically) you will treat the gift better. Or at least that’s what my naive young mother’s mind justified. Now I just keep up the charade.

The main reason why I was dreading this year, is that I knew this would be the year that we would be having “the talk” with the Goddess. She’s been giving me some serious side-eye whenever Santa is mentioned for at least a year now. When I asked her point blank last night if she believed her answer was logical and thought out, not full of mysticism and wonder. “Well, if I believe in Santa then I get more presents. So, sure, I believe in Santa.” Stop growing up so quickly, kid.

The conversation went surprisingly well. JimBob and I explained that Santa is in all of us, and that it’s actually Mommy and Daddy who fill the stockings and move the elves. We explained that we do this to make the holiday more magical for the younger children. Now that she’s older, she can help us surprise her siblings and keep it magical. She seems excited to help out and has already started to plan the route of the elves. I can tell she is grieving her childhood naivety, but understands that this is part of growing up. She wishes the magic could have stayed forever, but it was fading, and it’s better to know the truth.

This kid never ceases to amaze me. She’s sharp as a tack, incredibly caring, and so good-natured. Don’t get me wrong. I am also amazed in the new and creative ways she finds to torture her brother, but 80% of the time she is so mature and loving that I often forget just how young she is.

I can’t help but worry that I’ve ruined her by telling her before she officially asked, but I just have a gut feeling that she would have said something in front of her brother. That would have been devastating. Now she’s in on the secret and can help keep the magic alive. The Goddess is still excited for the holidays.

I think this will be a good year for Christmas. Even if one of my children is now in the know about the Jolly Fat Man.

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Thanks for reading and for your patience during this time with no recipes. I promise I will start posting about food as soon as I start eating regular food again. JimBob has been sticking with our tried and true recipes during this time, because it wouldn’t be fair to bring in something amazing that I couldn’t even sample. I am counting down the days, 24 to be exact, until I have my first meal.

Until then, Om Nom On!