The Ideal Christmas

Don't let the title of the post fool you. As most people know, ideals are never met. I didn't realize I had an ideal "Christmas" in my mind until I had a beautiful baby boy. New ideals and expectations have been ground out of me as each new phase brings a death to an ideal. I find with each of these little deaths there is something sweet that I learn about my child. He is not what I expected, but sometimes as we walk through these deaths I find myself thankful that I am through this dark tunnel, but with greater wisdom.

One of these little deaths came at Christmas. As we were planning the holidays I not so quietly had to put aside the desire to stay at home and have my little one wake up in his own house on Christmas Day. Knowing that he wouldn't remember it, husband and I decided to do the parade of families one last time and then disappoint people next year. You see we are hoping to have a house of our own by next Christmas and will start our own family traditions. I put aside this desire, but still had the ideal firmly placed in my mind.

This ideal died yesterday through a member of the husbands family who had her own ideal of the perfect Christmas. I watched this person be cranky, push her agenda, demand things her way since it was "her house", and everyone was a tad afraid to cross her for fear of "ruining Christmas." At the end of the day when she wanted to exult in her "perfect Christmas" I had to (and am having to still) fight bitterness because of the death to my ideal and expectations.

This Christmas Nazi has a fear that certain relatives won't show up. Fighting so desperately for their love, she ignored and countered our request that perhaps certain someones could leave the ankle biting, peeing all over the house, yippy loud dogs at home for one night so that our little one wouldn't have to be guarded. The dogs showed up and I silently stewed regardless of many attempts of others to justify that the dogs would be in kennels (they weren't), weren't as loud (they were), and were really well behaved (not really).

The Christmas Nazi also felt that dinner had to be at a certain time with certain food, and everyone at a certain spot with certain dishes. So, she woke up my darling and the whole household at 5 in the morning to cook, slam doors, and turn on lights. As we went back to bed I silently tried to calm my tired brain. When breakfast rolled around she was snippy because "the kids" wanted to eat a bigger breakfast when she felt that we should "save our appetite" for her dinner. This made me even crankier. Anybody that has ever nursed a baby might understand. You are hungry. All the time. No matter what you eat. You. Are. Hungry. I am cranky when hungry so this did not help lighten the load of me dealing with a crushed ideal.

I am also cranky when tired. As the morning developed and our son didn't sleep. I realized that I had another ideal that was dying. I figured that everyone so loved my son that people would be helpful (i.e., hold him, rock him, help soothe him, be quiet and understanding that he was cranky). It took my dense mother-love brain a bit to realize that people who haven't been around a baby think that a baby should be cute, entertaining, available at any time for present opening or a photo shoot with a cute charming smile. I spent the entire day attempting to meet the ideals while trying to get my darling to sleep. Alas, I didn't have time to be helpful. The Christmas Nazi thanked everyone by name (except for me of course) for "helping me clean up our dinner." I'll refrain what went through my head.

By the time presents rolled around my child, the husband, and I were worn out. We made the family decision to leave early. I was glad we made it beforehand because then the Christmas Nazi decided that I needed a little parenting advice/correction. I felt like it was an essay of "How I didn't make her Christmas perfect." "He just needs to learn to sleep through the noise. I should have the freedom to talk as loud as I want in my own house," was the part that really stomped me down and made me feel like I was a horrible mother and daughter. I cannot deny the truth that she really does have the freedom to talk in her own house, but after her making no attempt to be kind or even sympathetic toward us I broke. I went into the back room and cried. The husband and I realized that we needed to leave as graciously as we could.

The Christmas Nazi was not broken up over the news that we were leaving. We packed quickly and felt her attitude of don't let the door hit you on the way out helped us to move faster.

As we were driving away with my ideals and expectations crushed and laying around me and stuffed in the back with the presents, I prayed that I would learn. Learn to place these ideals on the altar so that maybe someday I will be relaxed and not become a Christmas Nazi to my family.

I write this out to help heal the hurt and to sweep and clean up the broken ideals. I will probably be forming new ones and molding them throughout the next year. So hopefully I'll grow before they get too high to crash and shatter, but that might be trying to reach perfection. And we all know what happens to people that try to reach perfection. Hum. I think it might lead to more ideals.