Next-mas

Hey kids,

Yes, I know. Nana and Papa are here. Moved in right down the street, they have. I know there's volumes and volumes I can write about, but let me be in shock (denial?) for just a wee bit longer...

This is the second year that we have done a Christmas calendar. A secular sort of thing, with little notes from Santa instead of a Nativity story. You both believe that every night, Santa magically inserts notes and tiny gifts into the little 24 boxes that fit into the Christmas tree-shaped container that holds them all. Kinda looks like this:



I had planned this year to put the whole thing together ahead of time, writing out 24 little notes and filling the boxes with tiny christmas ornaments that you can put on your special little tree in your room. Y'know... a fix-it-and-forget-it kind of thing, rather than laboriously writing out a little note every night for the next 24 nights. But when I started opening up the boxes to put things in them, I found they still had last year's notes from "Santa" in them.

They said things like, "Jakob, quit putting your hand down your pants! Love, Santa." and "Have fun this weekend taking your daddy out for cake!" and "Looks like you're making my favorite cookies!"

Each message was special and probably added to the magic, helping you believe that Santa really was keeping an eye on you and sending you mystical messages. The look on your face tonight, Jakob, when you read "Thanks for coming to see me at the parade tonight! Did you see me at Super Burrito afterwards? I saw YOU! Love, Santa," was pure gold.

But it's all a moot point. Ya'll are leaving me on the 17th and we will not be able to finish off the calendar every night leading up to Christmas. Your Cali grandma and grandpa are having a mini-family reunion over the holidays, and relatives from all over the country are convening at their house. And anytime great-grandma and great-grandpa, both in their 90s, show up for anything, well... you kinda have to treat it like it's the last time you will ever see them.

Which is all well and good for the sort of people with the sort of jobs that they can just up and leave for a few weeks at a time, or for retired people who don't have to worry about that sort of thing. And for kids who get a two-week Christmas break. And for your daddy, who, well... you know. But as for me, I have to work.

So ya'll are leaving me on the 17th and returning some time the week after Christmas. I won't be alone; Nana and Papa are here, so it'll be just me and them, like it was for the years and years before you two and daddy ever came along.

Now all of this would make me super-sad if I was the sort of person who actually enjoyed Christmas more than I do. My feelings have changed somewhat since the both of you have come into your own and have started to look forward to it.

But never ever in a million years will I learn to enjoy sitting in on a Cali christmas morning with grandma and grandpa and all the rest of the family as you tear into the world's biggest pile of presents, tons of toys that you neither want nor need. Everyone else gets a kick out of seeing the two of you swimming in discarded wrapping paper and Barbies and DVDs and cars and crapcrapcrap, but just thinking about it makes me break out in hives and sick to my stomach. All I can ever think while I sit there during this barbaric ritual is, "Damn. Where the hell are we going to put all that?" And all the photos ever taken of me on Christmas morning in Cali reflect this.

So, don't think badly of me for jumping at the chance to sit this one out. Go, and revel in all the attention and adoration (and gifts) that the relatives will shower upon you. You never seem to remember that your daddy and I exist when all those folks are around, anyway. Which is as it should be. They all love you very much, and you don't get to see them very often.

Let's celebrate the holidays every day until you leave me, and pick up again when you get back. I love you love you love you with all my heart, on Christmas day and every day.