And so it was Christmas

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I'm happy to say that this Christmas was fairly low stress, even though we had to have two pet sitters (our dog had to board and someone else came in to feed the fish, cats and visiting hamster...can hamsters actually live in the wild anyway?).  And it's the first time in about....well, since I was about nine or 10 that it's been that way. Our family packed up for a whirlwind tour of our extended families over a three-day pass through Atlanta. Not quite as fast as Santa, but almost. My husband and I have divorced and remarried parents on both sides. Which means that we have a lot of family to visit. And, with the exception of an aunt or uncle or two, they all live in and around the metro Atlanta area. And so do a lot of our very good friends, since we also grew up in Atlanta. If you get where I'm going with this, it makes it a very difficult thing to just pop into our hometown. Were we childless, it would be no problem. But we are toting a three and a seven-year-old with us, and therein lies the difficulty. 

Getting around from house to house is like a complicated dance. Stay too long here, and someone else gets hurt feelings. Stay too long there, and another one feels slighted. Everybody's expectations are hard to meet. And then there are the intricacies of gift giving. Some families have rules. Some don't. Sometimes the rules change from year to year. Sometimes they tell you that. Sometimes they don't. It can be dizzying. It's a time of year for being with family and friends, and it often winds up more like a rushed fulfillment of obligation. And I for one usually come away sad that it felt like that. Sad that it wasn't a glowing time, where everyone was genuinely happy just to be together. 

But this year was a little different. On our very quick tour of Atlanta, we did bounce from house to house. And we did have a few wobbles here and there. But, for some reason or other, it just wasn't as stressful as it's been in the past. My three-year-old acted quite the part of a devilish, tantrum-filled three-year-old boy, but even that wasn't so bad. We spent time with each main branch of our families. We enjoyed good dinners and good conversation. We arrived back home in Charleston tired from all the driving, but feeling glad that we'd seen everyone and had good times. Glad that our time in Atlanta was pleasant, but also glad that all we had stretching before us was Santa and a day of kids in PJs eating cookies for breakfast and playing with shiny new toys all day. 

After polling many moms and many friends, and having quite a few adult Christmases under my belt, I've come to this conclusion: there simply is no right answer for making everyone happy on Christmas. And that realization made something click in my head. I could worry and fret and stress about making everyone happy. Or, I could just do my best and accept the fact that I am not Mary Poppins or Martha Stewart or any other maven of perfection. (Christmas cards will be New Year's cards this year...) I embraced the fact that I have small children. That this time is fleeting. That my primary focus has to be on them. We are making their memories. And for that reason alone, we simply want to be home on Christmas. So this year, instead of feeling a little sad in the post-Christmas re-hash of events, I feel heartened that we had a good visit followed by a peaceful Christmas at home. 

Oh, and a Google search turned up that wild hamsters are native to Europe, Asia and Africa. And I was working on the theory that they are really rats with their tails lopped off. They are kind of rat-like though...

What did you do last night?

It's always a toss-up whether or not to bring children to certain grown-up events. Art openings, certain plays, restaurants, etc. And it's a dilemma that parents constantly face. How to expose your kids to culture and give them the opportunity to learn how to behave in more adult settings, without overdoing it and pushing them farther than their own behavioral limits allow. Last night a good friend of ours opened an exhibit of 10 years worth of painting and drawing. Initially, I was going to hire a babysitter and go as an adult, enjoy adult conversation, have a glass of wine, and leisurely view the work. Then my 7-year-old got wind of it and wanted to go to. She's fascinated by the idea that you can be an artist and have more than just the refrigerator as a display space. So, after tossing it around, and not being able to find a babysitter anyway, I decided to pack up both my 7 and 3-year-old children for a very quick tour.

And while my daughter was enthralled with what she saw and generally full of interest, my littler one was also drawn to the paintings and full of wonder. Both of my children were excellent as far as behavior goes. No yelling or running or any of those things that people without children find so annoying. Yet still, despite their quiet, peaceful demeanors, I was met with not a few sidelong glances. People avoided eye contact. Even people that I know and am acquainted with. I had two nice friends there who stopped to talk and didn't seem so freaked by the presence of two very well-behaved little people. I left annoyed with the behavior of grown-ups and more than pleased with the behavior of my kids. Our entire car ride home, both children were asking a lot of questions about the show. From "what is charcoal?" to "why did that animal look like a horse-man?" I was glad to know that both of my kids, even the little one, were impacted. 

I returned home, where I had to make 25 Christmas tree-shaped sandwiches (an absolute nightmare of a job, mind-you), put together myriad teacher gifts, wash a favorite dress for my daughter to wear the next day, and the list goes on. Total mom stuff. And there's a tricky balance too. Being a good mom, a fun wife, and an interesting woman. And it's incredibly hard to reach that balance. You're always running after one aspect or another, wanting to be awesome at everything, but never quite catching up. 

So, those way-too-cool folks who take themselves and their appearances so seriously may be mortified or shocked or annoyed or put out by having a couple of small kids at their grown-up party. But I say, I'm excited to know that my children can go to a place like that and conduct themselves quite well, and, most importantly, actually WANT to be there. And the value of that experience for them is immeasurable. (I certainly didn't go to art openings at age 7!)