No Santa: Growing Up Sorta Sucks

My oldest daughter is almost 12 years old, and up until about 15 hours ago, she still kinda sorta maybe believed in Santa Claus. (Yeah, I know. We were astounded, too.)

But all good things must come to an end. Last night, we were talking about her desk, and I made the classic mistake of saying something like, "Well, when we bought this for you, we were thinking you could use it for...yada yada yada." Annnnd...yep. You guessed it. The desk was a gift from Santa.

I've been caught in similar slip ups before, and I've always managed to talk my way out of them. But this time, I decided to not even try. I mean, she's in middle school. The conversation felt almost ridiculously overdue, and I thought I would merely be confirming something that she already knew, not revealing some potentially devastating secret. So when she asked me the inevitable question, I did not dodge it. I answered honestly.

About 30 minutes of intense, angry, desolate sobbing ensued.

In many ways, Emma is a mature kid. She gets herself up early in the mornings for band and chorus practice, packs her own lunch, gets out the door and to the bus...many times before I've even woken up. She gets excellent grades in school, managing her own homework and deadlines with virtually no assistance from us. Her teachers rave about her focus and dedication and responsibility. And she is starting to become more sophisticated in her thinking, understanding the world around her more and asking insightful questions about society as a whole.

But in other ways, mostly emotionally, she is still sooooooooooo young.

The tween dichotomy between little girl and young woman is very real. Sometimes Emma seems so grown up to me, a casual look or throwaway comment from her can almost make me weep. Yet other times, I'm rendered speechless by her immaturity and naivete. She switches from flippant and superior to whiny and needy on a dime. It's hard to navigate between these polar opposites, and frankly, I often get lost. She desperately wants to be treated like a teenager...but she's not there yet. I am always struggling to know when to give her space, respect her boundaries, let her work things out on her own, and when to rock her in my arms like a baby...like my baby, which she still is. I often get it wrong - giving her one thing when she needs the other.  It's a dance - a delicate, complicated, constant dance. And sometimes we step on each others' toes. But we keep on dancing.

Regardless of her age and maturity, she has always been very sensitive. Hearing her sob and wail over Santa made me want to permanently wrap her heart in bubble wrap before sending her back out into the world. She's like an exposed nerve ending with legs. Her emotional vulnerability terrifies me. I want her to toughen up, and I want her to never change. Grow a protective layer of cynicism, and yet never lose touch with her feelings. Be both practical and open, hard and soft, fierce and tender. But how to be both? Why can't she be both? Yet how can I teach her to be both, when I'm still learning those things for myself?

After she had a good cry over the loss of Santa, she seemed much better. Fine, in fact. Before going to sleep, she told me, "Mommy, I already knew Santa wasn't real. In my head. But I still believed in my heart. Is it okay if I still believe in my heart?"

Always, Em. Always.   

Annual Mothers Day Post

Mother's Day is my favorite day of the year.

I take great pride in being a mother, and great joy in a day dedicated to celebrating that role - not only for myself, but for others as well. For a girl born on Christmas, it is still a rather new experience to have a day that's all about me. And yeah. I know that sounds selfish. It is selfish. And that's okay. It's okay to be selfish once in awhile, to crave and need a day/hour/moment where the focus is on you. Everyone deserves that, at least once a year, don't you think? I do...and when it's my turn, believe you me - I revel in it.

Not that Mother's Day is all about me. I not only am a mother, I have one too - a pretty brilliant one at that...a truly selfless woman that I love and appreciate more than I can ever show. I have a beautiful plethora of other mothers in my life as well - mother-in-law, sister, aunts, cousins, friends - that inspire me every day. And I see the joy in my daughters' eyes on Mother's Day, the excitement they feel at having an excuse to share their feelings and spoil me a little. Of course, we don't only share our feelings on Mother's Day. But the ritual of it all is nice, as it is for any other holiday - having that annual reminder to tell the mothers in your life that matter to you...well, that they matter to you.

For all of these reasons, Mother's Day is my favorite day of the year. But I recognize, probably now more than ever, that a day that means so much to me can mean something very different to other people.

People who have lost their mothers. People who have lost a child. People who grew up without a mother. People who have complex relationships with their mothers, and/or with their children. People who are not mothers, and desperately want to be. Even people who are not mothers, and choose not to be.

I see you all. I don't pretend to know what your experience feels like. But I see it, I respect it, and to all those that associate Mother's Day with pain or loss, my heart aches for you.

Please know that my joy in this day is not in any way meant to cause you pain, even though I realize that it still might. It is simply my truth. For those who feel alone or sad on this day, or any day, I truly wish you warmth and peace. That feels woefully inadequate, yet it is all I have to offer.

And now...my way to honor the tremendous effort my family puts into making Mother's Day so special for me. Some treasures from my favorite day, courtesy of my favorite people in the world.

The day actually started off the night before, when I came home late from my show to a completely clean house. They even mopped! They were three busy bees while mama was at the theater. Then I woke up to beautiful tulips, and a few surprises.

Emma made me a double layer red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, baked and decorated all by herself.

Sophie had several homemade gifts for me, but this was my favorite.

The biggest surprise was waking up to an egg hunt! Chris and the girls each wrote specific things that they loved about me on little pieces of paper, and then folded the notes into emoji eggs that they hid all around the house for me to find. Best. Gift. Ever.