Norman Rockwell Can Kiss My Tush

Growing up, my dearest, fondest wish was a very Merry Norman Rockwell Christmas (and Thanksgiving, but this is the Christmas edition). You know, the version with little rumple-haired children falling asleep in front of the lit fireplace and the sparkly tree on Christmas Eve, being carried to bed by mom and dad, and sleeping soundly until (very early) Christmas morning to bounce down the stairs to a heavily laden stash of brightly colored, wrapped presents.

Well, having not received these types of rosy holidays as a child, I was determined to make them extra-special for my daughter when our little family of two became a family of three. So far, this is what I have learned:

1) Babies and toddlers are scared of Santa. I mean, come on! Who doesn’t love the big guy with the twinkly eyes, the wide lap, and the power to give great presents?

Babies and toddlers, that’s who. Every time we tried to take a photo with Santa, usual mayhem ensued. As a baby, at least all she did was launch herself out of Santa’s lap into mommy’s (unsuspecting) arms. As a toddler, she happily raced to Santa when it was her turn, in order to make a sharp, right turn as she neared the big guy, with a look of utter terror on her face that he was much, much bigger in person than she thought. This year, we have finally graduated up to the lean as far away from Santa as possible and pretend-to-be-happy-about-it-smile. I’ll take it.

2) Too many presents can overwhelm a young child. After opening the first present, she wants to play with the new toy. Now, while I certainly cannot blame her, why does every toy have to come with 100 of those annoying black twist ties? And the non-twist-ties that take a pair of garden shears to cut open. And about 100 yards of tape. And don’t get me started about those hard-plastic-two-piece packages around some electronic toys that take super human strength (and leave about 12 fairly deep cuts) to open. Seriously. Who are these sadists that invent these migraine-inducing packages?

3) Kids only know one (if you’re lucky two) Christmas carols. So while you may have visions of singing around the Christmas tree or piano, your toddler has plans to scream “Jingle Bells” at the top of her lungs. And not the entire song, just “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells.” And if you’re silly enough to try singing the “dashing through the snow” verse, be prepared for a lot of bossy shrieking about how you’re not doing it right.

Subsection (b) if you’re really lucky, your child is in preschool and they have taught her a new “holiday song,” the words of which you do not know. And since she’s only 3, she doesn’t know the words either. But she desperately wants to sing them with you. So you try to make the words up as you go. Big. Mistake. I refer you back to mayhem above regarding “dashing through the snow.” Nothing annoys a preschooler more than when she knows something that you don’t know, but she can’t remember it well enough to teach you.

4) Christmas cookies apparently look prettier on the walls, the floors, and down your preschooler’s pants. You have 1950’s visions of making beautiful, poignant cookies with your darling little girl, and decorating them with festive sprinkles and artful little swirls. Ha. Yeah, that’s right, ha.

As you’re turning around to get another pan out of the oven, your tiny darling is trying to shovel as many cookies in her mouth as possible (leading to the hysteria-driven tantrums mentioned above when you don’t know the words to “the blue mitten loves Frosty who is best friends with Rudolph on Santa’s Sleigh” or something like that).

Sprinkles are finding themselves into every conceivable crevice of your kitchen (where you know they will melt unseen and cause little pet ants to migrate in the spring) and into your hair and down your shirt and down her pants, but NOT on the cookies themselves. And if you were silly enough to let her have a hand in making the cookie dough that morning? Flour was already in all those same crevices that the sprinkles now adorn.

5) Decorating a tree with your gorgeous bundle of joy will be a wonderful family tradition. Well, it’s not entirely your preschooler’s fault that spherical ornaments look like balls. They are after all, balls on a string. And you can’t really blame her for treating them like the soft balls they throw at school. Even if they were a family heirloom (and you shouldn’t have turned your back on her in the first place, even if it was to catch the 8 foot tree as it started to tip over on your head). The same with all those priceless (or pricey) crystal ornaments. They are pretty sparkly after all. Who wouldn’t want to run over to the window with one to see how the sunlight creates rainbows in the crystals. Even if you might trip and send the said crystal flying.

6) Sleigh rides are a lovely winter tradition. Especially when you were smart enough to bundle up your baby in layers, with mittens and hat and snowpants and snowboots to keep her cozy. Even better when she’s now potty-trained and after waiting for 30 minutes for the sleigh ride, you hear, “mommy, I need to go potty,” as you get ready to board. At the mall. With no potty in sight. Well, at least all those layers will be absorbent if you don’t make it in time.

7) Snowball fights and snow angels are a great winter activity, sure to make memories. Unless your little one has a hard time making snowballs with her mittens on (seeing as she’s still mastering turning door knobs and getting her shoes on by herself). So she takes off her mittens and happily makes a few to toss at you. And then she starts to cry because her hands are too cold. But now you’ve lost the mittens, and she won’t take yours as a substitute because they are (a) too big and (b) not pink, which you should know is her “favorite color!!!”

Snow angels on the other hand, are kind of doomed from the beginning if you have a child who is not thrilled by the idea of cold snow going down her neck or up her pants (but keeps forgetting her finicky ways and insists that you help her make an angel).

8) Writing a letter to Santa is a lovely tradition to start when your child first understands the concept of both Santa and letters. That is, unless your child sees this as a free-for-all to ask for whatever catches her eye. And as any parent of a young child knows, their whims have a shelf-life shorter than a ripe banana. And Murphy’s Law dictates that as soon as you find that “must-have” toy (and if you’re brave, at a great discount on Black Friday), she will have changed her mind and now desperately, heartbreakingly earnestly must have something entirely different.

9) Extended family can make the big day extra special with their festive attitudes and helpful ways. I’m pretty sure we all have extended family and know how naïve this one is from the start.

10) There’s nothing like sitting down to a joyful meal with all of your nearest and dearest to celebrate the season. That is, unless some of you happen to be under the age of 10, and there’s nothing you would rather do less than sit still for a long, boring meal. And not only will you not admire the food (because you’re 3 years old), but you will also not eat any of the lovely meal. And will demand that you have buttered toast for dinner. Buttered on both sides. With the crusts off. No!! Not cut into slices, I need it whole! (unlike yesterday when I wanted it in slices.)

Despite all of this, there is no one I would rather celebrate my favorite time of year with than my darling little girl. Seeing the wonder of the lit trees and shiny decorations reflected in her eyes makes it all worth it.

So raise a glass with me, will you, and Merry Christmas, one and all.