Well, it’s finally here, Christmas. It snuck up on me like a sniper, too quick for me to notice and too quick for me to cringe. I’m only kidding, although the part about it sneaking up quickly is true. It seems that only a month or so ago I was making our list, checking it twice and deciding what we would be making and what we would be dishing out money for. Let’s just say, Santa is not bringing Mr.T and Little A a puppy this year, I couldn’t figure out how to make a realistic looking one, and Mr. Hubby is against the four legged idea to begin with.
Mr.T and I had quite a day, he was anxious and frustrated with life. He stomped his feet, screamed like a wild animal, said ‘mean words’ and was not entirely his typical pleasant self today. I threatened to cancel Christmas as I shut the door to his bedroom, he called out from inside his room, ” You can’t cancel Jesus’ birthday Mom, you would be in so much trouble!” I chuckled to myself as I listened to him festering in his bedroom, talking loudly and being a little stinker. Ahhh, how the holidays bring out the very best in people. More stomping comes from his bedroom. I open the door, he tells me he is not ready to see me yet, I shut his door and mosey along to Mount St. Laundry while Little A is happily playing in his bedroom.
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. I sigh. When did this get so complicated and so threatening? I can’t remember even discussing Santa as a child, let alone believing that he existed. I’m not sure my parents had to threaten to take Christmas away, or to call the guy in the red suit. What on earth will we do when our children reach the age of reason? Yikes, this is where I cringe.
Mr. T calls out from his bedroom and I go in. He is sitting on his stool, looking like he just lost his best friend, his little head hangs and he is staring at the floor.
“Are you ready to talk?” I ask. He nods yes.
“Christmas is tomorrow and you have been so wonderful, what’s going on today? You have screamed, head banged your brother and been an all around bully today. I don’t want to call Santa…..” I am sounding as genuine as I can.
Mr.T interrupts me, “Mom, I know Christmas is not all about presents and treats.” Great, he sounds annoyed. He continues, ” It’s about love, and sharing and being together with people you love and giving stuff to other people and to kids that have no parents and people that have no money. And presents too.” This last part is added in a matter-of-fact kind of way.
“Well,” I say, “you seem to want to be alone today, you have told your brother that you don’t want him and you have told me that you want to mess up my laundry pile because you’re so mad. Do you think that’s showing love?”
He sighs, shrugs his little shoulders and says, “I just get so frustrated sometimes! I need my space, but I love you guys….I’m sorry I said those mean words at you.” He hugs me, I hug him back. He runs to apologize to his brother and no sooner has he showered his apology and love is he back at throwing another melt-down. That’s it! I send him off to his room, no words are needed. He screams, he cries, he begs, he pleads, he calls out apologies, and like a 12 step program, finally lets reality set in, he’s in there until dinner time.
A while later, and before dinner of course, Mr.T opens his bedroom door and whispers, “Mom….mom….can I come out now?” I don’t answer. He stands in the entryway of his bedroom, watching me as I tidy up and put clothes away. Finally, I walk to his room. I am giving his my best ‘not impressed’ face, hands on my hips, I lean into the door frame, I raise my eyebrows in question.
“I love you mom. I hope we can have a better day tomorrow, I’m tired because I didn’t have a nap today, that’s why I’m cranky.” Mr. T is gazing up at me, his gigantic brown eyes like a puppy dog who just made a woopsie on the floor.
We hug, I kiss him on the forehead and we head down for dinner. He holds my hand while we eat, rubs my arm and when it’s time for bed, he says a sweet goodnight to his brother, gives him a juicy kid kiss on the eye and jumps into his bed.
I kiss Little A goodnight as he holds his plastic school bus in his hands (this will make for a rough night I’m sure), I kiss Mr.T and remind him of Christmas. He hugs me tightly and says he remembers.
I sigh as I walk down the stairs, a long and difficult day. I sit with my tea, thankful that even though I get these tough days, I am blessed with more wonderful ones.