Jackson's First Christmas was absolutely amazing for me. Between Santa, 2 doting grandparents, 2 smitten great-grandparents, and an adoring great-aunt who owns a toy store, my child ended up with more toys than I've ever seen in my life. Our living room looks like FAO Schwartz. You can't sneeze in my house without setting off some obnoxiously loud car, fire engine, or musical caterpillar. Aside from the resulting stubbed-toes, I love having this many toys for Jackson to play with because a) he's happy and b) he's entertained, which means I have an extra 20 seconds per toy before he gets bored and starts crying for me.
And as planned, we got Jackson's picture taken with Santa. However, we made a few tactical errors. Mainly, we went on Christmas Eve. The line was 2 hours long. But I was determined that my son WOULD have his picture taken with Santa, so we decided to wait. The 6 adults present (2 parents, 2 grandparents, and 2 great-grandparents) took shifts standing in line while the others shopped or ate lunch. Jackson was a champ through the entire ordeal until the second we placed him on Santa's lap...
Despite the psychological trauma my son had to endure in the 30 seconds he was on Santa's lap, it made for a pretty hilarious picture. Did Jackson cry when we put him in his itchy Christmas outfit? No. Did he cry during the 2 hour wait? No. Did he cry because he was starving and exhausted? No. But the second we handed him off to a jolly old fat man, he started wailing.
Of course, there other gifts than just my son's plethora of toys, and other events than The Great Santa Debacle of 2010, but those were the highlights for me. I used to feel sorry for my parents every Christmas when I was little because my brother and I got a billion toys and my parents got a tie or sweater. Now I realize that gifts never mattered to them because they were so happy watching us with our presents.
There was one gift that I received that bears mentioning, however, because it's one of those gifts that keeps on giving. David got me a housekeeper for Christmas. I realize that my laziness has reached new heights because I'm now a SAHM with a maid, but if it means never having to scrub a toilet again, that's a certitude I'm willing to live with. And it just goes to prove my prior assertion that my husband is the nicest man alive.
I also got to see my best friend from my childhood, which was nice. She's doing well, and although our lives are drastically different (she's living in NYC with a fabulous career, and I'm a mommy), it's true that some of the things we have in common (like friendship and good hair) never change.
Christmas takes on a whole new meaning when you become a parent. It's not about you anymore, and amazingly, you don't care. My head could have caught on fire, and nobody would have noticed. We were all so focused on Jackson. All that mattered to me was seeing my son happy, and between witnessing him with his grandparents and great-grandparents, watching him play with his new toys, and seeing his face light up with his first taste of gingerbread cookies, I got my wish.
I used to get a little sad when the Christmas season ended. But not anymore. Jackson's birthday is January 13th, so I'm just parlaying all my "Baby's First Christmas" fervor into "Baby's First Birthday". And so the madness continues...
Love your insights, and humor, Claire.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a wonderful and blessed Christmas indeed. The Santa incident alone will provide plenty of laughs for Jackson in his later years. That is except when you use the photos to completely embarrass him in front of the girlfriend.
ReplyDeleteYou really captured all the love and happiness that one would expect in a baby's first Christmas from a new mommy perspective. Thanks for that!