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December 11, 2007 Happy Xmas (War is Over) 
Updated to add: comments are fixed again. Sorry about that. Christmas is genetic in my family. My parents, my brother and I are all Christmas freaks. We decorate sometimes multiple trees, bake, wrap presents, watch all the movies, and listen to all the songs. When Frances was born one month early, just before Christmas in 2002, we joked that it was because she'd inherited the Christmas gene and couldn't stand to miss a Santa visit. Last Christmas sucked. I'd known since late last October that Erik and I were probably breaking up; but I couldn't have The Talk that would decide things one way or another before Frances's birthday and the holidays. The last thing I wanted to do to her was have her remember such an important time of year as the time when her family fell apart. So we didn't start to have those talks until Boxing Day. Do you have any idea how unfun it is to buy christmas presents and stocking stuffers for someone you almost certainly will not be married to for much longer? Or what it's like to open presents from that someone, and manufacture enthusiasm and gratitude? To bake cookies and decorate trees in a house you don't think you'll be living in a year from then? Awkward would be a good starting sentiment; but it went much farther than that. I took hardly any pictures, no video, forced myself to do a scrapbook page when I got the pictures back but my heart wasn't in it. Last Christmas sucked. I dreaded it. I'm not looking forward to this one so much either. It's not that anything is, in and of itself, dreadful. There will be an adequate number of presents under the tree, and the stocking will be stuffed, and it will all happen multiple times because of the number of households involved, so Frances is going to get plenty of stuff. It feels a little odd to be buying my own stocking stuffers (it occured to me that it would be difficult to explain to Frances why Santa only brings stocking stuffers for Mummy when she is living with someone), but at least I can say that I got exactly what I wanted. There won't be as much baking or crafting or decorating as in previous years (our tree is ridiculously tiny), because there simply isn't the time or, let's face it, the energy. But somehow, even if this isn't the type of holiday I'd ever planned on for myself or my little girl, I have to make this good for her. It is her birthday and her christmas and I want these memories to be full of light and fun and love for her. I want to be able to jump out of bed when she gets up on christmas morning to see what santa brought her with as much enthusiasm and expectation as I would have if we were anywhere else; I want her to be able to bask in the glow of the love that surrounds her, even if it is coming now at odd times and from strange angles. If anything, this Christmas has to be better. I don't mean she needs more presents--she doesn't--I do mean it has to be more fun. Everything she's lost this year needs to bring some benefit for her in a form she can understand, and a Mummy's house full of craft projects and cookie baking (and eating) and advent calendars with boxes you open every day and yummy meals and fun movies and special songs this time of year, plus a really fun birthday party with balloons and a cake (chocolate, as requested), is a start. But I'll only be able to pull it off if I drag my eyes away from what I'd hoped for when I imagined christmases-to-come before Frances was born, and look instead at what we can have, at what I can do. It's not bad, after all. It's just different. Happy Xmas. War is over. But sometimes it feels like the battles are just beginning. Posted by Andrea at December 11, 2007 11:55 AM under EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments I think maybe you will know it more than her. But I do know what you mean, understand the struggle. And wish it could be easier for you. I do feel confidence in you, from all you say, that it will be okay. Sometimes I yearn for the ideal, the expectation, instead of the compromised reality. Just for this once. I know...I know what there is to say to that. And I move past it and find grand anyway. But still, for a moment, I yearned. Julie Posted by: Julie Pippert at December 12, 2007 2:26 AM
What you have, and what you will have, will be perfect. A child so loved will never want for a happy birthday or holiday. I can tell you with certainty that children who grow up with parents who find them delightful and remarkable turn into happy, well-adjusted adults. I have a couple of them myself. And they never look back and ask "why" about any of the holidays that I found lacking for them, for whatever reason. Posted by: yankee,transferred at December 12, 2007 1:17 PM
I have so little good to say about christmas (long story), but I put on a decent show of enthusiasm for my girls. Posted by: crazymumma at December 12, 2007 1:23 PM
Thank you. Posted by: Andrea
People have mostly said it already, but I'll chime in anyway. You will make a lovely holiday for Frances even at your minimum effort -- you have too much love and too much creativity for that not to be true. So give yourself a break, and do the parts that are fun for you, that you have enough energy for, then sit back and grin with your sweet girl. Posted by: Madeleine at December 12, 2007 4:27 PM
You know that insipid "Welcome to Holland" thing that makes the rounds every now and then? Well, maybe it's applicable here. It isn't what you expected or wanted - it's not Paris or the Carribbean or whatever is your destination of choice - but it's equally fun. It's just a different fun than you expected. Honestly, I think you are an incredible mother and have done more to keep Frances's well-being in the forefront of your mind than most people do when they go thru a divorce. Posted by: Major Bedhead at December 13, 2007 1:36 PM
Thank you, Julia. That is a good analogy. Posted by: Andrea
It does get a little easier with each passing Christmas/yule/December. It does. Honest. Posted by: LauraJ at December 13, 2007 5:50 PM
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Change is God (Octavia Butler, Parable Series) "Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better. What if they are a little course, and you may get your coat soiled or torn? What if you do fail, and get fairly rolled in the dirt once or twice. Up again, you shall never be so afraid of a tumble." Ralph Waldo Emerson Email Frances! frances AT athenadreaming DOT org You can email her mother too (that's me):
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