But, I still can’t find it. My spirit of Christmas is mostly missing in action. There are glimmers here and there. When I first look at our tree, I smile. Then the crashing waves of pain take over. I thought year two would be better, easier, less painful. I ache. I’m sore. It hurts physically, mentally and emotionally.
I love to listen to Avery tell me how she thinks the real Santa was at our mall the other day because he certainly looked like the real Santa, it couldn’t have just been a helper Santa. But will our child ever ask such questions of me?
I can’t wait to watch Delaney rip the paper off of each of her gifts tiny piece by tiny piece. But will I ever know if my kid is the kind of kid who rips slowly and makes sure all the paper is off? Or is our kid the kind of kid that just tears off a big enough piece to see what is inside.
I see the excited look in Chris and Lyz’s eyes when they are giving the play by play of getting one of the years most sought after toys that Avery is certain Santa can bring. I see the triumph and pride in their eyes, and I get myself all wrapped up in the excitement with them. But will I ever feel it first hand?
I see the families picking out there trees at the Christmas tree farm and I see the children pointing at this tree or that tree and the parents smiling because even if the tree was to be pathetic (which would never happen at Landis Christmas Trees) they know they would get whichever tree their child wanted. But will I ever have to sacrifice my beloved Frasier Fir for a Douglas Fir all in the name of love for our child?
In December of 2007 I wrote a post all excited about Christmas of 2008. Jenn made it clear that she would not help the reindeer eat their carrots. I would be able to buy a million rolls of wrapping paper to be forever designated as Santa’s paper. But will we ever have that chance?
I think of Christmas traditions passed on from my family, like opening pjs on Christmas Eve and a yummy breakfast of sausage, biscuits and gravy. Yes, we do both, and this Christmas I’ll be making the yummy breakfast for CLAD+J too, but will our child ever partake of the yumminess?
I’m starting to lose hope. And being hopeless at Christmas time certainly does suck.