Christmas and Birthdays

For those of you watching my fb account, you will see a number of pictures of Christmas in my new house. All of them include stockings hung by the chimney with care. There is a reason for my insanity. You see, when I was little, we read and were read "The Night Before Christmas." Our book had beautiful pictures of tow headed children in onesie pajamas with the button flap at the bum reaching on tip toe to hang their stocking on a fireplace that housed a roaring, snappping, crackling fire. This was my version of Norman Rockwell. And so it was birthed in me. My dream to have that picture, for me and as I got older for my children.

Christmas was always a magical time for me. Yet don't think, that it was without trauma. One Christmas we woke to news of a beloved friend's passing, unjustly I might add. One Christmas, saw a major war between my parents that resulted in anger and yelling and screaming and tears and the inevitable silent treatment and tension thick enough to slice with a knife. And yet, Christmas remained magical.

And now as an adult, come Nov 1, Christmas music plays at my house. Come the first Sat in Dec, we have a tree decorating day and night with movies, music and treats. My children are somewhat sick of it all, at least some of them are, but I make them participate? Why? Because Christmas is magical for me.

And now I digress for a bit. The magicalness of Christmas is mirrored in birthdays for me. Many of you have seen pictures on my fb of the somewhat insane birthday parties I throw for my kids. And yet again, there is a method to my insanity. I have hosted such birthday parties as: Jedi knight training party, sword and the stone party, a live version of Clue, a Mani Pedi party, a wine and cheese party, a backwards party, a princess party, a limo driven night on the town party a survivor party. Many times people look at me and shake their heads at me, thinking I am simply crazy without a cure. Again, all done intentionally with purpose.

For you see, when I was but a wee one, birthdays and Christmas were my days. And by that I mean that they were the only days I got to be somebody. For 2 days, out of 365, I was celebrated, I was rejoiced in, I was honoured, I was loved.  The other 363 days I was hurt, abused, emotionally beat on, used for whatever purpose saw fit at the time, downtrodden, ignored, devalued, terrorized, bullied, forgotten and un-noticed. I was a nothing. Except for two days. For two days I was a something.

And so my insanity is two fold. From a wee one, I learned to live in the quiet celebration of those two days. I say quiet because the days leading up met with the descriptives above. But internally, I was anticipating, dreaming, fantasizing, and celebrating. I created my own internal anticipatory celebration of the two days I got to be a SOMETHING. And then the day, the magical, wondrous, dreamlike day arrived for me!!! I got to BE!!!!!

And I carried this with me. Yet now, as an adult, my celebration does not have to remain hidden and internal. I run my house and so, I can celebrate externally, I get to hold onto the fact that I get to BE!!!! Until normalcy sets in and I go back to being a nothing.

And I do it for my kids. I want them to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they ARE! And who they ARE is beyond descriptive words. And so I plan their parties with them and the anticipation grows and they see the effort I put in and they KNOW. They are SOMETHING!!!!! They are VALUABLE and WORTHY and LOVED BEYOND MEASURE!!!!!!!!!! They see me plan Christmas, with anticipation of their joy. And they KNOW. THEY ARE SOMETHING!!!! Part of this comes from my stuff. I know that. Part of it does come from what I never got to experience and yet, part of this comes from me trying to ensure that the good in their lives stays and the bad falls away. I know we are not supposed to, as parents, live vicariously through our children. But I can't help but wonder, if in this case, is it such a bad thing?