TJ has been with us for almost 5 months now. I adore him, his sense of humour and his good nature, he is the best big brother I could ever have wished for my girls and I am grateful for every moment he is part of our family.
TJ's parents live interstate, and although they have a hard time communicating when it comes to feelings and "stuff", they love him very much.
By TJ's own description his parents are, "as straight as I am weird".
TJ has started writing letters to his parents, because phone conversations don't seem to be a great way for them to communicate.
Yesterday he asked to stop by the post office to send them his letter. He was more excited about sending this letter than any of the letters before. He had a big grin on his face and was almost jumping up and down on the spot while he waited for a stamp. He put his letter into the post box and clapped his hands together a few times, by way of send off.
I assumed that being the end of his first week at school, TJ was just excited about sharing this with his parents.
I assumed wrong.
Last night, after the other kids had gone to bed, TJ came and sat beside me.
"Al, there's something I need to tell you."
Uh - oh.
TJ, "In the letter I sent my parents today... I told them I was gay."
Me, "OK."
TJ, "But I'm not gay."
Me, "Right. That's an interesting thing to tell your parents if you don't think it's true. Why do you think you did that?"
TJ, "Just to see what their reaction would be. It will be big, won't it?"
Me, "I don't know, TJ. It will be a lot for them to process. Do you want them to do all that work processing something about you that might not be true?"
TJ, "Yes. No. I don't know. I want them to think I'm weird like you so I can stay here forever."
Me, "Do you think being gay is weird?"
TJ, "NO! But they do. And if they think I'm too weird they won't want me back."
Me, "I see. TJ, why do you think your parents agreed to let you come and stay here originally?"
TJ, "Because I ran away."
Me, "OK, and why did you run away?"
TJ, "Because I wanted to come stay with you."
Me, "OK. So your parents let you come and stay here, because you wanted to."
TJ, "I guess."
Me, "And when we went down before Christmas and you said you wanted to camp with us and not stay in the house, what did they say?"
TJ, "They said OK."
Me, "Right. So your parents are pretty good at listening to what you want, really, aren't they?"
TJ, "I guess."
Me, "So maybe talking to them about what you want would have been a better way of communicating than telling them something that you thought would get a reaction."
TJ, "Yeah. Probably. [Pause] But telling them I am gay is heaps funner!"
Me, "Is it fun when people lie to you?"
TJ, "No, not really. I shouldn't have lied, should I?"
Me, "It's more important what you choose to do about it now."
TJ, "I could send another letter?"
Me, "Sure. You can send it express post if you like."
TJ, "Yeah! I'll send another letter express post... And I'll say I might be gay, instead!"
Me, *Stifled laughter* "That sounds like a great idea."
Miss Thoughtful
Miss V, "Mum? Did you know that the Chinese believe coffee is poisonous to human bodies? Because I just tipped the coffee down the sink. To help you."
Booty Call
8:30pm
Mobile phone rings
Unknown number
Me, ".... Hello..?"
Telemarketer, ".................................................. Hello. Mrs [Insert badly pronounced surname here]?"
Me, "Maybe.... What are you selling....?"
Telemarketer, "Congratulation! (No, that's not a typo, he said congratulation without the s) You have been randomly selected to receive a free anniversary gift from company X [I asked said company to join us for this blog post, sadly, they declined).
Me, "Oooohhh a freebie! My husband will be thrilled when he forgets to buy me something!"
Telemarketer, "You can have an anniversary night to remember with our free sample of [some drug thing that enhances sexual function in men]."
Me, "No way!!! Really?!?!"
Telemarketer, "Yes. Let me tell you a bit about our product. It is all natur...."
Me, "Mate - If you can give my husband a hard on for the night, I will give you a million dollars!"
Telemarketer, "Er... What is his dysfunction?"
Me, "Death."
[Silence]
Me, "What...... Is that a problem?"
Telemarketer, "Umm.. Sorry to bother you..."
[Dial tone]
Honestly... Telemarketers these days have no stamina.
Mobile phone rings
Unknown number
Me, ".... Hello..?"
Telemarketer, ".................................................. Hello. Mrs [Insert badly pronounced surname here]?"
Me, "Maybe.... What are you selling....?"
Telemarketer, "Congratulation! (No, that's not a typo, he said congratulation without the s) You have been randomly selected to receive a free anniversary gift from company X [I asked said company to join us for this blog post, sadly, they declined).
Me, "Oooohhh a freebie! My husband will be thrilled when he forgets to buy me something!"
Telemarketer, "You can have an anniversary night to remember with our free sample of [some drug thing that enhances sexual function in men]."
Me, "No way!!! Really?!?!"
Telemarketer, "Yes. Let me tell you a bit about our product. It is all natur...."
Me, "Mate - If you can give my husband a hard on for the night, I will give you a million dollars!"
Telemarketer, "Er... What is his dysfunction?"
Me, "Death."
[Silence]
Me, "What...... Is that a problem?"
Telemarketer, "Umm.. Sorry to bother you..."
[Dial tone]
Honestly... Telemarketers these days have no stamina.
Thanks Henry
In this family, we're big believers in the power of thought - all that think positive, create your own reality, law of attraction, hippy stuff that makes lots of people roll their eyes and others nod in agreement. Thinking thoughts that are uplifting and empowering is something I try to teach the Kewl Kids, and I always try to pass on beliefs to them that will serve them well and help them to achieve their dreams (as we all do as parents, in our own way).
The Kewl girls are already pretty good at the whole law of attraction thing. A few weeks ago I was reminded of the quote: "Whether you think you can or you think you can't - Either way you are right." from Henry Ford. When I passed this on to the girls we talked about it for a while and they recognised it very quickly as something they could use to their advantage.
"Mummy, I think I can have chocolate cake for dinner - So I am right, hey mum?!"
Yeah. Right.
In my adulterated ignorance I rolled my eyes and told them - nice try - but the saying was not meant to be taken that literally.
Not more than 20 minutes later, Mary Poppins walked in the door with a big chocolate cake for us to share after dinner.
Today Miss J and Miss F took their mind powers to the next level.
We had to go to the big shopping centre and just because I like a challenge, I took the kids with me. My kids are pretty good when it comes to resisting the brightly coloured, cheery sounding, kewl light flashing, perfect kid height, button happy machines filled with al kinds of consumer crap - but even the best kids are not immune.
About 10 meters from the exit, I was almost home free when Miss F spotted something she just HAD towaste her money on try. A big obnoxious machine full of electronic gadgets, from mini watches right up to digital cameras and iphones. Miss F had spied an mp4 player and decided if she raided savings (all $2 worth) she would finally be able to afford the music playing, video displaying gadget she didn't know she wanted until she saw it 30 seconds ago! She had also spied the flashy words that claimed: "EVERYBODY WINS!" and "PRIZE GUARANTEED!"
I tried explain that these machines did not often give away the expensive prizes - that even though "a" prize was guaranteed, this could mean one of the cheap ones and not the one she wanted - but Miss F was not having it.
"Mummy! It's MY money and I think I can have that player!"
So I stopped resisting and got her to close her eyes and picture the player dropping off the hook and falling into the basket at the bottom of the machine, then to see herself reaching in and taking it out, holding it in her hands in front of her.
She opened her eyes, put her coin in the slot and pushed the button.
Then she watched with expecting eyes as her mp4 player dropped off the hook and fell into the basket at the bottom of the machine. She reached in, took it out, held it in her hands in front of her and giggled.
While I was picking my jaw up off the ground, Miss J took $2 from her bag and pointed at the second, and last, mp4 player.
"Mummy, I think I can have one, too."
So we did the same thing - Miss J pictured the player dropping from the hook and falling into the basket, then reaching in, taking it out and holding it in her hands in front of her.
I don't know what the chances are of getting two of the exact same, high value prizes from a novelty machine like that...
But I don't think it matters.
I wonder what Henry Ford would think if he knew he was helping to enable the shopping habit of two 5 year olds...?
The Kewl girls are already pretty good at the whole law of attraction thing. A few weeks ago I was reminded of the quote: "Whether you think you can or you think you can't - Either way you are right." from Henry Ford. When I passed this on to the girls we talked about it for a while and they recognised it very quickly as something they could use to their advantage.
"Mummy, I think I can have chocolate cake for dinner - So I am right, hey mum?!"
Yeah. Right.
In my adulterated ignorance I rolled my eyes and told them - nice try - but the saying was not meant to be taken that literally.
Not more than 20 minutes later, Mary Poppins walked in the door with a big chocolate cake for us to share after dinner.
Today Miss J and Miss F took their mind powers to the next level.
We had to go to the big shopping centre and just because I like a challenge, I took the kids with me. My kids are pretty good when it comes to resisting the brightly coloured, cheery sounding, kewl light flashing, perfect kid height, button happy machines filled with al kinds of consumer crap - but even the best kids are not immune.
About 10 meters from the exit, I was almost home free when Miss F spotted something she just HAD to
I tried explain that these machines did not often give away the expensive prizes - that even though "a" prize was guaranteed, this could mean one of the cheap ones and not the one she wanted - but Miss F was not having it.
"Mummy! It's MY money and I think I can have that player!"
So I stopped resisting and got her to close her eyes and picture the player dropping off the hook and falling into the basket at the bottom of the machine, then to see herself reaching in and taking it out, holding it in her hands in front of her.
She opened her eyes, put her coin in the slot and pushed the button.
Then she watched with expecting eyes as her mp4 player dropped off the hook and fell into the basket at the bottom of the machine. She reached in, took it out, held it in her hands in front of her and giggled.
While I was picking my jaw up off the ground, Miss J took $2 from her bag and pointed at the second, and last, mp4 player.
"Mummy, I think I can have one, too."
So we did the same thing - Miss J pictured the player dropping from the hook and falling into the basket, then reaching in, taking it out and holding it in her hands in front of her.
I don't know what the chances are of getting two of the exact same, high value prizes from a novelty machine like that...
But I don't think it matters.
I wonder what Henry Ford would think if he knew he was helping to enable the shopping habit of two 5 year olds...?
I've forgotten how to talk about my children
I've been wondering for the last couple of weeks, why my blogging inspiration seems to be at an all time low. I have wanted to blog, we're back from our Woodford Christmas and the neighbourhood is full of kids on holidays willing to play entertainment committee for my kids on holidays, so I've had time to blog... And it's not like with 5 kids and a gazillion animals and a bunch of visiting circus freaks I've got nothing to blog.
But the blog archive does not lie. One post for December. One post for January. And really, not much to be inspired by before that.
While pondering my lack of bloggy-ness, I received a text message from an old friend. We bantered back and forth for a few messages, than she sent this: "And what about those kewl kids, have they written their first best seller yet?"
I began to reply, "No best seller but Miss V is editor of a weekly "goodnewsletter" for our town's local paper!"
Then I deleted it.
Because you can't say stuff like that to other parents about your 3 year old, can you? Certainly not without a) sounding like you're bragging, b) discouraging the other person from telling you anything about their kids in the future or c) developing a reputation for being a smart arse that people don't want to talk to any more.
If not all three.
I think that's when I realised that I've forgotten how to talk about my children. Not just on this blog, but in general. When people ask how they're doing I make wide sweeping comments like, "Oh they're good. Miss F and Miss J have been approved for home learning this year and Miss V is looking forward to being the first 3 year old to take over the world."
All true, but not necessarily specific.
A more honest answer would be, "Well, Miss J and Miss F's home learning application was knocked back because the curriculum we outlined was too far ahead and would make them too smart - but we dumbed it down a bit and now we're good to go. And Miss V broke her own record for solving a rubicks cube last week - she's now down to 5 hours 20 minutes."
But you can't say stuff like that about your kids, can you?
It's not that I'm not bursting with pride. It's not that I don't want to talk about them 24/7. It's not that we're not the same kind of family, with the same kinds of values and beliefs as always.
It's just that my kids got smart. And I stopped talking about them because you just don't do that.
That is probably the most ridiculous reason for not doing something I've EVER admitted to. And I'm not going to conform to it any more.
I'm not going to filter what I say about my children in case other people get offended any more. That is definitely not a value I want for myself or my children.
Yes, Miss F can do back flips on the trampoline. We're circus freaks - so what?
Yes, Miss J can explain, in great detail, why sunflowers follow the movement of the sun from dawn until dusk. She likes sunflowers - so what?
Yes, Miss V can talk to Mr R's physiotherapist about skeletal alignment and hyper extension and muscle flexion and centre of gravity and counter balancing and... stuff. She asks lots of questions - so what?
Yes, my kids can speak fluent Auslan. Their favourite Aunty is Deaf - so what?
Yes, my kids can read facial expressions with an ease and speed belying their ages. We value emotional intelligence - so what?
We are who we are. I never want my children to think they have to be any more or any less for other people. So from now on, I'm going to talk about them with the pride and acknowledgement and respect that they deserve.
It's just what you do. Right?
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most.
We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?'
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us.
And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
~Nelson Mandela
But the blog archive does not lie. One post for December. One post for January. And really, not much to be inspired by before that.
While pondering my lack of bloggy-ness, I received a text message from an old friend. We bantered back and forth for a few messages, than she sent this: "And what about those kewl kids, have they written their first best seller yet?"
I began to reply, "No best seller but Miss V is editor of a weekly "goodnewsletter" for our town's local paper!"
Then I deleted it.
Because you can't say stuff like that to other parents about your 3 year old, can you? Certainly not without a) sounding like you're bragging, b) discouraging the other person from telling you anything about their kids in the future or c) developing a reputation for being a smart arse that people don't want to talk to any more.
If not all three.
I think that's when I realised that I've forgotten how to talk about my children. Not just on this blog, but in general. When people ask how they're doing I make wide sweeping comments like, "Oh they're good. Miss F and Miss J have been approved for home learning this year and Miss V is looking forward to being the first 3 year old to take over the world."
All true, but not necessarily specific.
A more honest answer would be, "Well, Miss J and Miss F's home learning application was knocked back because the curriculum we outlined was too far ahead and would make them too smart - but we dumbed it down a bit and now we're good to go. And Miss V broke her own record for solving a rubicks cube last week - she's now down to 5 hours 20 minutes."
But you can't say stuff like that about your kids, can you?
It's not that I'm not bursting with pride. It's not that I don't want to talk about them 24/7. It's not that we're not the same kind of family, with the same kinds of values and beliefs as always.
It's just that my kids got smart. And I stopped talking about them because you just don't do that.
That is probably the most ridiculous reason for not doing something I've EVER admitted to. And I'm not going to conform to it any more.
I'm not going to filter what I say about my children in case other people get offended any more. That is definitely not a value I want for myself or my children.
Yes, Miss F can do back flips on the trampoline. We're circus freaks - so what?
Yes, Miss J can explain, in great detail, why sunflowers follow the movement of the sun from dawn until dusk. She likes sunflowers - so what?
Yes, Miss V can talk to Mr R's physiotherapist about skeletal alignment and hyper extension and muscle flexion and centre of gravity and counter balancing and... stuff. She asks lots of questions - so what?
Yes, my kids can speak fluent Auslan. Their favourite Aunty is Deaf - so what?
Yes, my kids can read facial expressions with an ease and speed belying their ages. We value emotional intelligence - so what?
We are who we are. I never want my children to think they have to be any more or any less for other people. So from now on, I'm going to talk about them with the pride and acknowledgement and respect that they deserve.
It's just what you do. Right?
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most.
We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?'
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us.
And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
~Nelson Mandela
My kids are hilarious
There have been some hysterically funny bits of life with the 5 Kewl kidlets of late... So too kick off blogging in 2010 I thought I'd share a few!
Yesterday, Mr R was playing a soccer type game on TJ's nintendo thingy (I know it's called a DS, I just refuse to acknowledge it!). TJ was watching over Mr R's shoulder when all of a sudden he exclaimed,
"Woah! You can kick great for a kid with no legs!!!"
We had a fantastically exciting start to the new year - On the 1st of January, 2010, Sammi and Mary got married!!! Being a same sex relationship, they prefer the term "committed" to "married"... And instead of being pronounced wife and wife, they were pronounced committed.
This was hilarious enough given the pshych ward terminology reference, so when they were pronounced committed and then Miss V cried, "Hooray! My lesbians are crazy in love!"... Well, that just topped it off perfectly!
Miss J has really embraced her roll as big sister to a little brother. She has also really embraced the advantages of said little brother having no lower limbs. This week, she put on her caring big sister hat and taught 2yo Mr R his longest - and arguably most impressive - sentence yet...
"Help me! Help me! I can't feel my legs!"
A couple of weeks ago one of the boys in our home learning community (K) asked Miss F if he could be her girlfriend. From the moment she said yes I began hyperventilating and having heart palpitations. Miss F was experience the same symptoms, but for a very different reason. All swoony and fluttery-eyed, she said to me, "Oh mummy, if the world fell to pieces, K would put it back together again! And he would make sunshine, and rainbows, and all of the beautiful flowers!"
With this in mind, possibly the best news of 2010 (as far as this mother is concerned, anyway!) is that this week, K infected Miss F with conjunctivitis.
So she dumped him.
And she has sworn off boys, forever.
You know, I think I'm going to like 2010. And if the first week is anything to go by, I'm definitely going to need more clean underwear.
Yesterday, Mr R was playing a soccer type game on TJ's nintendo thingy (I know it's called a DS, I just refuse to acknowledge it!). TJ was watching over Mr R's shoulder when all of a sudden he exclaimed,
"Woah! You can kick great for a kid with no legs!!!"
We had a fantastically exciting start to the new year - On the 1st of January, 2010, Sammi and Mary got married!!! Being a same sex relationship, they prefer the term "committed" to "married"... And instead of being pronounced wife and wife, they were pronounced committed.
This was hilarious enough given the pshych ward terminology reference, so when they were pronounced committed and then Miss V cried, "Hooray! My lesbians are crazy in love!"... Well, that just topped it off perfectly!
Miss J has really embraced her roll as big sister to a little brother. She has also really embraced the advantages of said little brother having no lower limbs. This week, she put on her caring big sister hat and taught 2yo Mr R his longest - and arguably most impressive - sentence yet...
"Help me! Help me! I can't feel my legs!"
A couple of weeks ago one of the boys in our home learning community (K) asked Miss F if he could be her girlfriend. From the moment she said yes I began hyperventilating and having heart palpitations. Miss F was experience the same symptoms, but for a very different reason. All swoony and fluttery-eyed, she said to me, "Oh mummy, if the world fell to pieces, K would put it back together again! And he would make sunshine, and rainbows, and all of the beautiful flowers!"
With this in mind, possibly the best news of 2010 (as far as this mother is concerned, anyway!) is that this week, K infected Miss F with conjunctivitis.
So she dumped him.
And she has sworn off boys, forever.
You know, I think I'm going to like 2010. And if the first week is anything to go by, I'm definitely going to need more clean underwear.
My children stole my Christmas Spirit!
Now, I'm the first to admit that as far as the whole Christmas thing goes - I have never been the biggest fan. The consumer side of the festive season leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I dislike the expectations our society places on people, loading us with feelings of obligation and guilt if we do not conform. Running around like a headless chook consuming "stuff" that for the most part, means nothing more than an obligatory Christmas lunch stomach ache or an extra roll of wrapping paper under the tree - that really isn't my idea of a joyful family tradition.
Then I had children.
It was almost like having children gave me permission to take part in the kind of Christmas that for so long I had conscientiously objected to. I had kids, therefore I was allowed to consume meaningless "stuff" for the purpose of creating a joyful family tradition... You know... For the children.
With kids in the picture, we did the tree, and the decorations, and the lunch, and the presents, and the parties... We did Christmas.
And I enjoyed it.
This year, my children changed the rules. My children - my permission to celebrate something I don't really believe in - they stopped believing in Christmas.
They took my Christmas Spirit, examined it closely, then stamped a big fat PERMISSION DENIED across it's face.
It started with our road drip down to see TJ's family. I was all for calling it a Christmas road trip - I wanted to decorate the car and fill our esky with Christmas themed food and play Christmas carols and bring Christmas DVD's.
I bought reindeer antlers for the car - you know the ones you attach to the windows, with a red nose for the front? Fun, right? Er, maybe not.
As I was attaching them, Miss F asked me what I was doing, and when I explained what the antlers were for, she said,
"Oh mum - Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Put the antlers down and step away from the car, OK?"
Christmas Road Trip =
Permission denied.
Next was the Christmas present list. I thought it would be nice for everyone to decide on one "decent" present for each member of the family, instead of getting lots of little ones. I started initiating conversations about what to get certain people while said certain person was out of ear shot.
Then my children started initiating "take the mickey out of mum's Christmas present conversations" conversations.
Mary Poppins is a vegan, so Miss V suggested we make her a roast turkey for Christmas lunch.
Sammi is deaf, so Miss J suggested getting her a ukulele.
Mr R has no lower limbs, so TJ suggested getting him a new pair of shoes or some brightly coloured leg warmers.
Miss F is a fashion diva, so Miss J suggested a stripey top with "matching" polkadot shorts.
And on and on it went.
Christmas presents =
Permission denied.
Then the Father Christmas of all Christmas traditions was snatched away from my Christmas Spirit.
My children stopped believing in Santa Clause.
One morning last week, Miss V came over and sat down next to me. She had the kind of intense look on her face that has me shaking in my "I'm an adult and I know about stuff" boots. Her brow crinkled, then she looked up at me and began...
Miss V, "Mummy, do you really think that there is a big man in a red suit who lives in the North Pole and makes presents and then delivers them all in one night? Do you really think that's real, mum?"
Me, "I'm more interested in what you think, Miss V?"
Miss V, "I think it's bullshit."
Me, "[Choke, cough, splutter].. Umm.. OK."
Miss V, "OK. Just as long as you know."
A visit from Santa Clause on Christmas eve =
Permission denied.
With my Christmas Spirit sad and weak and rocking alone in a corner, I hardly dared believe my ears when Miss J asked me if I'd like to see the calendar she made to count down the sleeps until Christmas.
A small glimmer of hope flicked across my Christmas Spirit's rather pathetic and sulky face.
Could it be?
Could Miss J actually be excited about the consumer driven, obligation and guilt fueled seasonal event that I don't really believe in?
Close examination of her face revealed what was most definitely and unmistakably...
Excitement!!!
She showed me her calendar - a beautiful, beautiful, calendar - with lots of green trees and golden bells and red music notes.
Christmas colours!
Christmas trees!
Christmas decorations!
Christmas music!
Christmas Spirit!!!
There was just one small detail that was not quite right.
Me, "Miss J, you have one too many days on your calendar. This one is the day after Christmas."
Miss J, "Yes, I know."
Me, "How come you made too many days?"
Miss J, "I didn't... We go to Woodford the day after Christmas!!!"
Her whole body beamed with sparkling, tingling, magical anticipation and excitement. She jumped onto my lap and threw her arms around my neck...
Miss J, "Only three more sleeps to go! Can we practice sleeping with ear plugs now? In case it's really noisy at night? Or maybe when we get there we can just stay up all night! Could we mum? Pleeeeeease?"
Excited tummy butterflies flew out of her mouth as she was talking and fluttered their way down to my stomach. The electric buzz of anticipation attracted the other little people like a magnet.
Miss F squealed, "I'm not going to sleep at ALL, the WHOLE time! And I'm only going to sit on speakers. And I'll eat guitar strings for breakfast!!!"
Miss V's eyes grew wide and she asked, "Do you think we could sit in the AusLan seats with Aunty Sammi? What if we take our ear plugs so we really can't hear? Then could we?"
TJ watched on in awe, listening to all the wondrous tales of what could be possible in this mythical wonderland we call the Woodford Folk Festival.
My Christmas Spirit took in the scene before us...
The excitement.
The anticipation.
The wonder.
The possibilities.
The magic.
It wasn't consumer driven.
It wasn't what society expected.
It wasn't out of guilt, nor obligation.
But there was no mistaking what it was.
Christmas Spirit -
Kewl style.
Then I had children.
It was almost like having children gave me permission to take part in the kind of Christmas that for so long I had conscientiously objected to. I had kids, therefore I was allowed to consume meaningless "stuff" for the purpose of creating a joyful family tradition... You know... For the children.
With kids in the picture, we did the tree, and the decorations, and the lunch, and the presents, and the parties... We did Christmas.
And I enjoyed it.
This year, my children changed the rules. My children - my permission to celebrate something I don't really believe in - they stopped believing in Christmas.
They took my Christmas Spirit, examined it closely, then stamped a big fat PERMISSION DENIED across it's face.
It started with our road drip down to see TJ's family. I was all for calling it a Christmas road trip - I wanted to decorate the car and fill our esky with Christmas themed food and play Christmas carols and bring Christmas DVD's.
I bought reindeer antlers for the car - you know the ones you attach to the windows, with a red nose for the front? Fun, right? Er, maybe not.
As I was attaching them, Miss F asked me what I was doing, and when I explained what the antlers were for, she said,
"Oh mum - Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Put the antlers down and step away from the car, OK?"
Christmas Road Trip =
Permission denied.
Next was the Christmas present list. I thought it would be nice for everyone to decide on one "decent" present for each member of the family, instead of getting lots of little ones. I started initiating conversations about what to get certain people while said certain person was out of ear shot.
Then my children started initiating "take the mickey out of mum's Christmas present conversations" conversations.
Mary Poppins is a vegan, so Miss V suggested we make her a roast turkey for Christmas lunch.
Sammi is deaf, so Miss J suggested getting her a ukulele.
Mr R has no lower limbs, so TJ suggested getting him a new pair of shoes or some brightly coloured leg warmers.
Miss F is a fashion diva, so Miss J suggested a stripey top with "matching" polkadot shorts.
And on and on it went.
Christmas presents =
Permission denied.
Then the Father Christmas of all Christmas traditions was snatched away from my Christmas Spirit.
My children stopped believing in Santa Clause.
One morning last week, Miss V came over and sat down next to me. She had the kind of intense look on her face that has me shaking in my "I'm an adult and I know about stuff" boots. Her brow crinkled, then she looked up at me and began...
Miss V, "Mummy, do you really think that there is a big man in a red suit who lives in the North Pole and makes presents and then delivers them all in one night? Do you really think that's real, mum?"
Me, "I'm more interested in what you think, Miss V?"
Miss V, "I think it's bullshit."
Me, "[Choke, cough, splutter].. Umm.. OK."
Miss V, "OK. Just as long as you know."
A visit from Santa Clause on Christmas eve =
Permission denied.
With my Christmas Spirit sad and weak and rocking alone in a corner, I hardly dared believe my ears when Miss J asked me if I'd like to see the calendar she made to count down the sleeps until Christmas.
A small glimmer of hope flicked across my Christmas Spirit's rather pathetic and sulky face.
Could it be?
Could Miss J actually be excited about the consumer driven, obligation and guilt fueled seasonal event that I don't really believe in?
Close examination of her face revealed what was most definitely and unmistakably...
Excitement!!!
She showed me her calendar - a beautiful, beautiful, calendar - with lots of green trees and golden bells and red music notes.
Christmas colours!
Christmas trees!
Christmas decorations!
Christmas music!
Christmas Spirit!!!
There was just one small detail that was not quite right.
Me, "Miss J, you have one too many days on your calendar. This one is the day after Christmas."
Miss J, "Yes, I know."
Me, "How come you made too many days?"
Miss J, "I didn't... We go to Woodford the day after Christmas!!!"
Her whole body beamed with sparkling, tingling, magical anticipation and excitement. She jumped onto my lap and threw her arms around my neck...
Miss J, "Only three more sleeps to go! Can we practice sleeping with ear plugs now? In case it's really noisy at night? Or maybe when we get there we can just stay up all night! Could we mum? Pleeeeeease?"
Excited tummy butterflies flew out of her mouth as she was talking and fluttered their way down to my stomach. The electric buzz of anticipation attracted the other little people like a magnet.
Miss F squealed, "I'm not going to sleep at ALL, the WHOLE time! And I'm only going to sit on speakers. And I'll eat guitar strings for breakfast!!!"
Miss V's eyes grew wide and she asked, "Do you think we could sit in the AusLan seats with Aunty Sammi? What if we take our ear plugs so we really can't hear? Then could we?"
TJ watched on in awe, listening to all the wondrous tales of what could be possible in this mythical wonderland we call the Woodford Folk Festival.
My Christmas Spirit took in the scene before us...
The excitement.
The anticipation.
The wonder.
The possibilities.
The magic.
It wasn't consumer driven.
It wasn't what society expected.
It wasn't out of guilt, nor obligation.
But there was no mistaking what it was.
Christmas Spirit -
Kewl style.
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