“Mom…I know who you are,” announced my oldest daughter Nora
a couple of nights ago as I was tucking her into bed.
Caught off guard by Nora’s declaration, I froze for minute.
I hadn’t realized that the words I just heard from her might have represented
one of my greatest fears. My shy and slightly socially anxious adolescent self
emerged from my past for a moment – “Nora knows who I am. She’s seen who I
really am!” I thought, feeling for a minute like I just got caught
doing something horribly wrong, but wasn’t sure what it was. I took a deep
breath as my adolescent self receded, and then my present day mom self chimed
in. “Who am I Nora?” I inquired.
“You’re Santa,” she said as if words could wink.
I sighed a breath of relief before a small amount of a
different type of panic arose…from another part of myself. “I’ve been caught in
the Santa Lie,” I thought to myself. Still…I played it cool as a cucumber.
“Nora”, I said. “What do you mean, I’m Santa? I don’t have a
white beard. Or any beard for that matter. I think I’m a bit thinner. A bit
shorter. A bit younger. I don’t drive a sleigh with Reindeers. I don’t say, ‘Now,
Dasher! now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and
Blitzen!’ I don’t jump down Chimneys with bags of toys for kids. My eyes
don’t twinkle, and my dimples aren’t merry”.
“Mom, are you reciting ‘The Night Before Christmas?’ Nora
asked.
“Nora,” I said… “My cheeks aren’t like roses, nor my nose
like a cherry! I don’t have a broad face and a little round belly. And I don’t
shake when I laugh like a bowl full of jelly. And…come on Nora, I said. I don’t live in the North Pole. How could I
possibly be Santa?”
“Mom”… Nora’s words were about to wink at me again. “I’m on
to you”, she said. Wink. Wink.
“Tell me the truth,” Nora said. “About Santa.”
It was this moment that I remembered back to my own
childhood word winking conversation with my mom, after I had discovered the
boxes from the Santa presents in our garage a few days after Christmas when I
was eight years old. I remembered confronting my mom about Santa. “Tell me the
truth,” I said to my mom. And I remember my heart sinking, after hearing.
“You’re right, Karen. He’s not real.”
“Well,” I said to my daughter with a pause, thinking of my
next move.
“Well, Nora”. I said. “If Santa isn’t real, then how was
your friend’s mom able to take a picture of Santa with his sleigh and his
reindeer, flying away from their house?”
“Photoshop.” Nora said.
The conversation continued. “Come on mom,” Nora said. "Why
does Santa use the same wrapping paper that you and dad use for us, then?” Nora
responded to her own question, “Because it’s you (wink, wink)…not
Santa.”
“Remember, honey,” I said. We leave our wrapping paper out
for him so he doesn’t have to use his own wrapping paper. Now, get to bed Nora.
I love you.”
And so that was the end of this particular night’s
lighthearted conversation with Nora about the “Santa Lie.”
After I left Nora’s room and went to my own, I found myself
thinking. Why is it so many parents lie to their children about Santa. What is
this mass hysteria that allows half of the population in our country (the
children) to believe in such a far-fetched concept? And since my own childhood,
this lie has only grown bigger. And Capitalism has definitely capitalized on
it. No longer are children, in order to know where Santa is Christmas Eve,
required to mistake a red light from an airplane for Rudolph’s shiny nose.
“Santa is five houses down…across the creek,” I would say to me siblings when we were kids,
noticing Rudoph’s shiny nose guiding Santa’s sleigh….which also happened to be
guided by a couple of unspoken and unquestioned green lights.
Now all of the young children and their lying parents can
just go to www.noradsanta.org, or to
santatracker.google.com, or to some other Santa tracking website, and they can
find out just exactly where Santa is located around the world…even when he is
flying over the countries where the majority of people don’t believe in Santa
or celebrate Christmas.
And then there is “Elf on the Shelf.” No longer do desperate
parents, in need of behaving children during the holiday season, need to look
out the window and exclaim in excitement and surprise, “Oh my gosh, kiddos, I
just saw an elf. And he saw what you are doing!”
No longer do we need to tell our kids, “The elves are
watching.” Because now, for just 29.95, from Amazon, there is “Elf on the Shelf.”
This delightful character comes in two genders, boy elf and girl elf. This is
really wonderful, because for just another 29.95 your elf – presumably created
by their marketing inventors to be heterosexual elves – can have a boyfriend elf or a girlfriend elf.
And trust me you…elves do get lonely. Elf on the Shelf also comes with a book
for your kids, describing all about how the elves visit children each night
from Thanksgiving until Christmas, before returning back to their home with Mr.
and Mrs. Santa Clause…until next year that is.
For your lonely, cold, Elf on the Shelf who arrives wearing
just an elf outfit, you can also purchase a pair of party skirts (for your girl
elf), and an attractive sweater set with 5 attachable decals (for your boy elf).
Once your elf is named and fully attired, it is ready for
work. The important job of an elf on the shelf is to spy on your children
during the day time, then to fly back to the North Pole at night, reporting to
Santa which kiddos have bee naughty and which ones have been nice. Upon
returning from the North Pole to your home early in the morning, your elf is
supposed to find a new hiding spot in your home so it can again resume spying on your kids.
For some reason, Nora and Hazel were two of the last
children in our area to receive an Elf on the Shelf. Then about two years ago,
after hearing over and over from them that “absolutely all of their friends
have an elf on the shelf, and why don’t’ we? Aren’t we just as important?” John
Mark and I broke down.
One day soon after our breakdown, Scarlett Elf arrived at
our house - along with the nicely illustrated Elf on the Shelf children’s book that details just exactly what is supposed to happen each night with the elf after the
children go to bed. And so - as if John Mark and I didn’t have enough to do
this time of year - we resigned ourselves to our new, additional job of moving
a toy elf to a different spot in our house each night. “OK…we can handle this”,
we thought.
Nora and Hazel, ecstatic to have what every single one of
their friends and classmates and children all over the world have, went to
school the next day to proudly tell their friends about their new elf Scarlett.
Upon coming home from school later that day, John Mark and I were informed of a
few other important things about Elves on the Shelves that weren’t detailed in
our instruction book.
“My friends write letters to their elves, and they get
letters back from them,” Nora said.
“Elves get really lonely for other elves. One of my friends
just got a friend for her elf,” Hazel said. And then…“Can we get a friend for Scarlett?”
“My friends get early Christmas presents from their elves,”
they both said.
A few other things that I have learned about Elves on the
Shelves that weren’t detailed in the book: Elves get lonely – they need friends.
Elves have tremendous fashion sense, and need clothes. Elves poop Hershey
kisses and mini-marshmallows, and it is extremely cruel to make them wait until
they get back to the North Pole each night to use the bathroom.
I suppose the phrase, “If you can’t beat them, join them,
and then out do them,” comes to mind when I think of John Mark’s and my
response to this whole Elf on the Shelf hysteria. The summer after Scarlett Elf
arrived at our house, she snuck inside one of our suitcases, becoming a stow-away
on a family trip to Iceland
Upon discovering at the airport that Scarlet came with us, my
daughters were ecstatic. Our very first outing in Iceland
When I am now confronted by Nora and Hazel with the
activities of their friends elves, and questions such as, “Why doesn’t Scarlett
Elf do that ?” or “Why doesn’t Scarlett Elf have that?” I conveniently remind
them that Scarlett Elf - who still do this day doesn’t have a friend,or a
significant other - went to Iceland
Over these years each holiday season, I have been surprised
at my ability to lie, almost effortlessly, about these things. Generally
speaking, I am all about being as honest as possible with my kids. For example,
if my spouse and I argue and one of my daughter’s says to me “I wish you both
would stop arguing,” I don’t say, we aren’t arguing honey”. Though it is rare
for my children to see me upset (and more common for them to see me extremely
tired), if I am upset about something and one of my daughter’s recognizes this,
I will honor her observation and let her know…yes, I am upset. I won’t say,
“No…everything is fine”, when it isn’t. As much as I like Hitchcock movies, I
don’t want to gaslight my kids. I want them to trust their experiences. I want their experiences and observations to
be validated….not second guessed by them. This is what helps to build
confidence and self-trust. This value of honesty in my parenting has held
strong in most cases, with one gi-nourmous exception: the lie about Santa (and
his elves).
After Nora was born and our first Christmas with her
approached us, I was faced with a 1st world dilemma of what to tell
her (or not) about Santa. I had seen parents I knew handle Santa in different
ways…most telling the Santa story, some not, and some who combined fact with
fiction…telling their children about a “pretend Santa.” My guess is that how
each parent I knew then decided to handle this situation had much to do with
their experiences with Santa, or not Santa, when they were children. I remembered
that one of my friend’s was truly traumatized after finding out her parents had
lied to her…and that someone she had loved and depended upon all of these
years, Santa, wasn’t real. And so I struggled with the idea of lying to my
child…of telling her stories about a big man with a white beard who will bring
her toys if she’s good. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to participate in the Santa Lie.
With some reflection, my resolution became this: I will lie to Nora (and later
down the road, Hazel) about Santa. I will tell them the Santa story, but Santa
will have unconditional positive regard for my kids… so I won’t tell them about
the “good list” and the “naughty” list. I even thought to myself, “If they
learn about this list from shows and movies,” I will tell them, “It’s just a
movie…there isn’t really a list.”
This resolution lasted until my oldest was probably about 4
and a half, and my youngest was almost 2, when one day a few weeks before
Christmas they were pushing every single button I have and out of my mouth
came, “The Elves are Watching, you know.”
“WHAT,” they said. And so - though I later backtracked and
said they would get toys no matter what…but elves, just like mommy’s and
daddy’s work hard and appreciate it when kids behave – more lies unfolded. And
I found it surprisingly easy and effortless to lie to my kids about Santa.
Not only the traditional stuff, like Santa flying to our
house in his sleigh with eight reindeer that included that magical Rudolph. But
also lies that helped to keep things more convenient for us. For example, I’ve
told Nora and Hazel that Santa wraps their presents in the same wrapping paper
that we use because we kindly leave it out for him to use. I’ve had regular
conversations with Santa.
“I talked with
Santa”, I’ve said, “and he told me he needs to know your shoe size just in case
he wants to get you shoes.”
Or…“Santa was wondering what your favorite colors are this
year.”
Or…my latest one, “Santa told me that he isn’t going to be
able to get you a Nintendo Switch this year. He already picked out your
presents…some of them which cost a lot to make…before you realized a week
before Christmas that you would like a Nintendo Switch.”
Though the lies that fall impromptu
out of my mouth still surprise me, the question Nora hasn’t asked me yet is the
one for which I have had a planned response. That is the “WHY did you lie about
Santa” question. My response to this question has been planned for about ten
years… all this time… and was a part of the reason I chose to participate in
the Santa lie. Nora and I have not yet reached this point of the conversation,
though I anticipate this will happen shortly after Christmas this year. And if
she asks me “why,” my response will be this:
“I chose to lie about Santa,
Nora, because sometimes in this world you might feel misunderstood, lonely, and
sad. You might feel like you’re not good enough, or like you don’t fit in. Life
rolls in waves…always moving, but sometimes you might believe you are stuck.
And because you might believe this, I also want you to believe that in life
there is magic. Life…in this busy time of its history…can be overwhelming. But
amongst these lies I’ve told you, amongst the bright lights of department
stores and computer screens, amongst the fast moving conveyer belts blasting
our grocery and gift items full speed…stealing us away with them. Amongst all
of this sometimes heartbreaking mess of things is us…you and me, standing still
if we focus. And there is this, too…we all come and go. Each year there will be
someone not with us. One year, I imagine you will be here and I won’t. But know,
too, that you never know when you might one day be looking back on the time when
you only dreamt about today. And I want you to know that I am somehow now with
the family I always knew I wanted to be with …before you and Hazel existed
outside of my mind. I am here with you now. In this single moment throughout
the history of time, throughout the times of our ancestors and relatives and
friends who are no longer here…somehow here we our. Here we all our. In this
moment that’s magic.
I wanted you to know Nora that
magic exists…we just need to remember to stop so we can see it. It comes from
the people we know and love. Love is out there for as long as people are out
there. And that is what’s really, real Nora. Love is real. Always. And magical”.
In truth, 10 years ago I just
knew that I would tell Nora (and Hazel now, too…when she is ready)…that I wanted
them both to believe in magic, and that is why I decided to participate in the
Santa Lie. I hadn’t quite formed the elaboration I just came up with.
There is a cynical part of me that says to myself,
“Karen…you’re just trying to find meaning and purpose for all of your
capitalistically imposed stress and suffering over the holiday season. This
‘love’ stuff is merely about survival”.
Maybe so. Or maybe it is
both. We are all victims of this stressful, fast-paced, discombobulating,
pressure cooker culture. And we are all still somehow connected in this world
where there is indeed magic and love. So in hindsight, when it comes to the
Santa Lie, I am glad I chose the way I chose. And I don’t really think there is
much I would have done differently. Except for…maybe I would have chosen to
tell my kids that Santa is not a man; She’s a woman.
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