It was Christmas Eve, “I just want to look at them one more time” she said as I put on my pajamas. We crept into the girls’ room. Regina had rolled out of her blanket, I watched Annie tuck the blanket back around her. Reg barely stirred. I watched her then turn around and stroke a lock of hair out of Lyd’s face, she haphazardly swatted at Annie’s hand and rolled over, she never stopped snoring. We stood back and watched them for a full two minutes before we retired ourselves. “This holiday season has been a sprint.” She said as we settled into bed. “A thirty-day sprint…down a steep hill.”
“I think you pretty much nailed it.” I replied. I smiled in the dark, over the last couple weeks the smiles were becoming easier. As much as I wanted to keep chatting with Annie, the wine was making my eyelids heavy. I looked over at her, her eyes were closed. “Merry Christmas Babe.”
“Merry Christmas.” She mumbled as her head settled onto my chest.
Truth is, I’ve been agitated this holiday season. I’ve been overtired and under-slept. Everything has felt like a little more effort than it needed to be. The ten-thousand things had piled up on me, each one of itself, no biggie, things like Lydia losing a glove minutes before going out the door. Ten-thousand other tiny irritations and well, I became grumpy!
We were short this entire season. We were short on time and money. However, we have not been short on the to-do list. (“We have to be WHERE at WHAT time? Are you kidding?”) (“Another gift needs to be bought?” “The Christmas Card Mailing List is bigger this year?” “What were we thinking when we signed on for this thingamabob?”). I was having a rotten attitude, days were just something to get through so I can have another night of not-enough sleep. I was suffering from what my Dad would call “stinky thoughts”.
About two weeks ago the crankiness took its first major blow, it was the day of the School Christmas Concert and the chaotic storm preceding that. The day started with an open house where I was reminded (or rather where my dead ear nerves were reminded) of how loud first-graders can be. Other parents nodded to me, some were nods of familiarity, others, of acknowledgment, of being a fellow parent, our only connections were through our kids. My tinnitus was kicking in and I was praying that no one would try to start a conversation with me, I was praying that Annie wouldn’t wander far so that she could tell me what someone would be saying to me. By the time the concert began I was a frazzled mess. But then the lights went down, and there she was – my little girl in her dress and leggings, hands folded behind her back, feeling so special and pretty, as she sang All I Want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth. I reflected on my wilder days–that hot mess of a young man didn’t think he’d ever be holding his wife’s hand and watching something like this.
Immediately after the concert we took the girls to visit Santa. I’ll admit when we made that plan, it was nothing but logistical thoughts going through my head. I was not thinking about what was to happen, it was another thing to be scheduled.
The girls saw Santa and broke out into a run “Santa!!!” I smiled—a real smile. The grumpy crust developed a crack as I watched Lyd sing. The second crack just happened.
Santa saw them and exclaimed, “My goodness you have grown!” My girls were all over him. “This is real to them.” I thought. “For these two this is real-life actual magic. This guy is the real deal.” I once had that same innocence, that same sense of magic. For a second I felt a bit sad, I missed the little boy I once was. What happened? Oh yeah. Car payments and utility bills happened.
Then a new thought hit me. “It’s real to them, it might as well be real to me. This. Is. Santa Claus.”
To a certain degree, Annie and I manufacture the magic, or at least we keep that little flame burning. But that fact doesn’t mean it’s any less magic, it’s just a different kind of magic than what I experienced when I was my daughter’s age.
Thank God the grumpiness began cracking when it did, I would have been in bad shape for day one of Christmas Vacation. This Stay-At-Home gig can be tiring, especially during the Holidays. The first day of Christmas Vacation was marked by fatigue and frustration. One could think “Great! You don’t have to rush about dragging the girls through the morning routine and get the older one to school! You’re a Stay-At-Home Dad! You’re getting some quality time with your girls!”
Day one did not work out that way. It was more like something to be endured. Let’s start with Lydia, she’s accustomed to stimuli, seven hours a day, five days a week. She was bored and she was bouncing off of walls. Apparently picking up the playroom mess wasn’t enough. Wait! I have crafty projects at the ready (twenty minutes later) well that was ducky. What do I do with the other twenty-three hours and forty minutes?
Then we had Regina, the adorable little sociopath. On her own she keeps me busy. She is fascinated with all things that she is too small to do. She’s also decisive and defiant. I need to keep an eye on her nearly all day. Between 8am and 3pm the house is hers. She didn’t take very well to her bossy big sister stomping around on her turf.
Several times a day I had to insert myself between two snarling hissing kitties.
Just enough grumpiness was cracked to keep me from cracking.
Christmas Eve was possibly the climax of all that chaos. The girls were “helping” Annie make and decorate cookies while I vacuumed, steamed and wiped down everything I saw. We were bound and determined to have a Christmas where we could not see anything that needed “to get done” we wanted no reminders of chores and drudgery. We simply wanted a relaxing day with our girls.
Somehow we all managed to brush our teeth and comb our hair for Church, dinner and a drive through a holiday lights display. Regina was limp bodied asleep by the time we got Home. After the girls were put to bed, we did all the rest of the things needed to make the next day a good day. We then laid out a blanket, drank some wine picnic style and enjoyed our Christmas Tree in peace.
“I just want to look at them one more time.” She said. I watched her Loving our daughters. I watched our daughters; blissfully asleep, God only knows the dreams they must be having as they were curled up in their beds, portraits of perfect innocence.
Innocence is a delicate and finite thing. When the end happens varies, but it’s pretty safe to say that it is definitely gone by the time one gets their first utility bill.
My job then, is first to remember the magic and innocence of youth, of my youth, when pretty much everything is believable. I then need to fall back on that magic and push away the “stinky thoughts”. My job is to protect my daughters, to protect their innocence. I want to give them as many years of innocence as I can give. Why not? Innocence will end, it’s guaranteed. Someday it will be a part of their past. Pour it on them, give them enough innocence, enough magic, enough of an alley-oop that they might live a life less jaded than what could have been. God willing, my daughters will someday be providing this sort of magic for my grandchildren.
The magic is still there. It’s a deeper magic than what happens to my girls, it’s more than the gifts, and Santa and more than merely being together. The magic happens when I get to witness her sense of wonder, my sense of wonder. It’s deeper than their bright, wide-eyed look, the enthusiasm. The magic happens when I feel that pull in my chest. The magic happens when I feel Annie’s hand squeeze mine back. The magic happens when I blow some of the crust off and feel the pure Love and joy that actually defines my life. Christmas reminds us of those things.

Love your Loved ones, be Loved by those who Love you, and have a very merry Christmas.