December 12, 2012. Its been years since i posted, but i decided to start this up again. Ben is 6-i think he was maybe 2 or 3 when I last wrote...a life time ago. And of course now we have Liam! Who, light of every one's life, will be 2 in March.
So it's Christmas and the hardest thing about making Christmas happen for Ben in the way that I want to is that he keeps changing his mind. So yesterday it was Bioncles, today it's GI Joe and tomorrow today's likes may become passe...he also heard at school there's no Santa so last night as we colored-me a Christmas tree, him a fart shooting tank (hahaaahaa...) he wanted me to level with him. I said, "Well, I think the spirit of giving that just about everybody has this time of year must come from somewhere. I think that "somewhere" is the spirit of Santa who was a man a very long time ago who was so generous he gave gifts to everyone." He was satisfied with that then told me some of the cool things he wants. We brainstormed what others might want from him. Meanwhile he worked very hard on a fart cloud...
During this time of year, which I love by the way, I confront face to face a belief I have not in my 37 years been able to debunk: life's better when you have money. There are many parts of my brain that reject this notion: I mean the counterargument is shown by countless saints, Great Gatsby wasn't really happy in all the decadence, blah blah blah-I know this idea money=happiness should be repelled like early nineties z cavariccis, and yet as I sit here in my old pilly sweater and shotty boots that literally need to be glued and scan countless pages of gorgeous rooms that some part of my brain thinks my boys would live better lives in...i feel like a captive spawn of capitalism. If only I could give more, have more...somehow I would be more. I can't seem to will myself out of this line of thinking. As I drive home from work to see my kiddos, a 6 foot banner catches my attention. It hangs on the outside of a jewellery store and says "Santa, I promise to be good!" It kinda makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit...and yet as I stand in criticism of it I simultaneously reach under my seat for the coupon book.
So what can you do when you can't chase away the scary voice? I guess it's enough, today, to identify it as a "scary voice". Yeah there will be no "transcending" happening today as I salivate over Target's buy one toy get the other 50%...I will not be "reaching communion with my larger, inner self" as I drool over the cashmere cardigan I was foolish enough to try on then disparately want. However upon reflection-there is this hope and consolation: the mellow hum after all those pressies are unwrapped isn't emanating from the waft of Neiman Marcus or Nordstrom-it's coming from the warmth of all the love that went behind all that shopping. Some where in my brain is the immutable knowledge that I have a wealth of love for the people in my life and that is the true spirit of Christmas (even though that robe would be awfully nice to have...). For today it's enough.
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