Kale’s latest obsession is grinding his teeth. This noise gives me the heebies to the point where I have found myself stuffing a piece of fabric in his mouth and asking him to chew on that instead. I can’t stand this noise. I am really hoping this obsession is over soon. Seriously. Gah. With his increased mobility, Kale has bailed a few more times than normal, and his face is now a lovely roadmap of bumps, bruises, and scabs. Awesome. I swear we are not beating our child. He does this to himself.
In any event, today is Mother’s Day. I sent “the grandmas” cards earlier this week and enclosed these photos, which I have been dying to post but haven’t been able to for fear of spoiling the surprise, but now I finally can!
This morning, the guys in my life presented me with a card and a box of the fanciest-fancy pants chocolate I have ever had. I almost don’t want to eat them. But don’t worry, I will. We’re going to go for a walk after Kale wakes up and has his lunch, and I’m looking forward to a relaxed afternoon.
I’m so grateful to have both Ross and Kale. I feel so humbled. Having a son with Ross makes everything in my life make sense. I love being a mama.
I’m torn.
Now that I have a kid, I can’t just be all “pft, whatev, Santa sucks butt, commercialist propaganda, mutter mutter” because there is a whole lifetime of believing (and behaving) to be done before the bubble is burst and Kale finds out that Santa is what Santa is. I have long believed that Santa is, in part, a behavioural modification tool that parents use and abuse at Christmas time to deal with behaviour they find abhorrent while justifying overspending on plastic toys-du-jour. However, I do have to take into consideration that there is another parent who has their own opinions on Santa, and above all, being a united front as parents tops my list of important parenting qualities.
As much as my critical thinking and skeptical side would like to inform Kale right from Christmas 1 that Santa is just an “idea”, perpetuated by everyone because wink wink nudge nudge it’s about the spirit of Christmas and let’s just keep this between us, okay? I realize that its going to be very very difficult to carry this out, never mind the fact that I have already been informed that it would be a complete “shame” if I “ruined” Christmas for Kale so early. Because being honest about make-believe fat men who break into your house, well… I guess that makes me the most horrible parent in the world.
So in acquiescence to those who feel that no child’s Christmas is complete without a visit to Santa, and no grandparent’s/auntie’s/uncle’s/etc Christmas card is complete without photographic evidence of said visit, but still mindful of my “I won’t go into a mall past December 1st” resolution I made 5 years ago and trying to find the happy medium between what Ross believes and what I believe, I did some research and found Father Christmas at the Burnaby Village Museum, who is willing to listen to children’s wishes and you can take your own photos. Huzzah.
Father Christmas is the pre-Santa, the Beta-Santa, if you will. He’s a kindly old thin dude, with a long beard and robe – sort of Gandalf type of dude - and was around way before Toys R Us and the Sears Wish Book and iPods and Wii’s were, and is more of a Sinterklaas than a product of a good marketing department at Coca-Cola.
It’s all about happy mediums, right? So our happy family is headed to see Father Christmas on Wednesday, in the afternoon, to try and beat some of the crowds of people.
Ross and I were out walking Mooki and Kale the other night, talking about this. He then brought up The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. I didn’t even think about them. Man. I’ve never thought about all this before. What is with all the made-up bearers of gifts? Is it possible to raise children without all these fictions?
How do you, readers who are parents, deal with Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny?
My friend Gillian asked me what has surprised me about being a parent. Funny that she has asked this question, as I was just thinking about this yesterday while walking to our midwife appointment.
I am amazed at the capacity of happiness and love I have. I am amazed at how terribly terribly frustrating things can get in the middle of the night. I am amazed at how much it hurts when Kale is crying and we haven’t yet figured out what makes him so upset. I am amazed at how many conversations I have had about poop and about diapers. I am amazed that I have actually thought about the type of man he will grow up to be, and of how women will swoon for his eyelashes. I am surprised how much I can stare at Kale and still find new crevasses and lines and folds in his skin that weren’t there yesterday. I am surprised at how easy it is to come up with nicknames and feel the need to hug and kiss my son. I am surprised at how pleased I feel to say “my son”.
In all fairness, I am also surprised at how isolating being a mom is – being at home all day by myself is HARD, there is no denying that. I am surprised at how comforting having the TV on all day is, and I am shocked at how frequently I feel the urge to check my email because AN ADULT might actually want to communicate with me.
Overall, however, I am amazed at how easy it is to find joy in this.
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