The Surprise Factor

As much as I would like to avoid Christmas, the kids won’t let me. For the past three Christmases they have insisted that we put up a tree and decorate the house.

That first Christmas was the worst… I almost imploded and gave up at more than one point along the way. Yet, I plowed on through it and we made it happen. Last year was not much better but was still not as traumatic. This year has been a bit easier and I have no doubt that as the years creep on by, it will become somewhat less difficult each time it rolls back around.

The kids, in particular Matt, refuse to let me off the hook for much when it comes to Christmas. I know there is no Santa and they know it too. Matt, nevertheless, asked me to not put out all the gifts. He said that I need to keep some back under a blanket in my closet. “That’s how mom did it” he tells me. I have not heard that phrase in a while.

He still wants to be able to get up on Christmas day and see a surprise pile of gifts that have miraculously appeared under the tree. I suppose in his mind that while he knows there is no Santa, that surprise pile of gifts gives him some sort of hope that maybe he is wrong.

I don’t blame him. I miss getting a few surprises myself. Lisa was a great gift giver. It was like she could read your mind and find just the thing you actually wanted. In all actuality, it’s not the gifts I miss. What I really miss is knowing that someone is there that cares enough about me to find just what I wanted. When I get up on Christmas morning, I know that there will be no surprises for me from Lisa. There will be no box tucked away in back of that pile that she will pull out and hand me. There will be no hand holding or snuggling on the couch as the kids rip open their gifts. There will be no us, just me…

I guess that’s my depressing thought for the day…