Then of course, there is that American monster -- commercialism -- that annoys me more each year. The hectic weeks leading up to the 25th of December -- shopping, decorating, and preparing for the Christmas play at church -- are so exhausting that I can hardly wait until December 26th and have it all over with.
But I think what I struggle with the most is avoiding the trap of trying to create "the perfect Christmas" for my family. Because I didn't have very prosperous or abundant Christmases at my house growing up, when I got married, I was determined to do Christmas "right." Growing up we didn't have a nice tree, and we didn't have gift wrap. Of course, looking back now that God has done a work in my heart, I realize that there was nothing wrong with that.
Now, lest you think I forget all about the Nativity and the Birth of Christ during this time, let me stress that we do emphasise to our children that this is a time set aside to honor the birth of the Messiah. But for some reason, I have had it in my head that I needed to kill myself with perfection to make Christmas more special for my family.
As a little child, I didn't understand my parents' inability to provide a nicer Christmas. I wasn't a very intuitive child that way -- I just thought my parents didn't want to try and provide a nice Christmas for us. My Dad was very bah humbug about having a tree and my parents refused to spend money on wrapping paper. I didn't understand that my Dad's bad attitude was probably more because he couldn't provide than because he didn't want to. Sometimes we would manage to have a tiny little "fake" tree (we called it a fake tree instead of an artificial tree) and it would sit on a little low table with only four gifts around it -- one for each of us children.
But then Grandma and Grandpa would show up and we would have wonderful homemade gifts. Every year I got a new pair of pajamas made by grandma. I loved those jammies.
So, when I grew up and got married, I was determined to have Christmas "like it's supposed to be." I was going to do it right. "Right" to me as a young bride and mother meant a tree decked out in perfection. It meant the tree had to be tall and full, and the lights had to be abundant and the ornaments breath-taking.
But as the children grew in number and as I got older and more tired, I felt the wind going out of my sails. The rumors that the Christmas tree was in fact a pagan symbol coupled with my exhaustion made Christmas just another holiday to survive, and to "just get through" one more time.
From the time the twins were infants until they were about 9 years old, they screamed all through gift opening. Because of their autism, it was just too stressful and overwhelming for them. Their behavior was another damper on my "perfect" Christmases. We would have to wait until they fell asleep to exchange our gifts.
Still, there was that pressure to make Christmas outstanding for my family. And I really did make things harder than they needed to be. But I didn't realize that until now.
I have been in bed with pneumonia for the past two weeks. Two days ago was the first day I was able to sit up. Christmas Eve (last night) I had my boys around me, and the only room in the house that was clean was the living room where I had pointed out to the boys what needed done.
The rest of the house is falling down around my ears. Two weeks of no Mom in charge of three boys and a husband -- all of them with A.D.D. -- well, you can just imagine what the house must look like.
My husband did the Christmas shopping this year. He even did the wrapping. He learned to do laundry and my oldest son finally learned to fold clothes. (They have done kitchen work, but I have always been in charge of the laundry!)
Our Christmas tree is missing the middle part because no one could find it without my help so the top half of it is leaning making the tree look like it came out of a Dr. Suess book. None of the stockings hanging on our mantle are the right ones. There are no fancy bows on the packages like I enjoy putting on them, and the things my husband chose for the children aren't what I would have chosen. The tree is sparsely and barely decorated because my husband didn't want to get all the ornaments out.
But guess what? It doesn't matter! We survived a Christmas Eve eating pizza here at home. I have no idea what is for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The kids don't care because all that matters to them is that they are with Mom and Dad and we are playing a game with them in the one clean room in the house.
It's not the perfect Christmas. But I would have to say, it really is Christmas "like it's supposed to be." And it didn't take a Martha Stewart effort or an interior designer's touch.
All it took was love.
It is 7:45 AM and I have been awake all night very excited about the children waking up and opening their gifts. I'm surprised that they are still asleep. Who knows, maybe I'll even be able to catch a wink.
But I am looking forward to folding my arms around each of my children this morning and giving them the greatest gift any mother can give them. It's not wrapped up in a gorgeous designer package -- it's just me. It's just me without a much needed haircut, or even my makeup in place. (I'm still too weak to stand very long at the mirror.)
This Christmas I simiply give them all of my love.
And that's -- "just like it's supposed to be."
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