Monthly Archives: December 2013

The Christmas Grinch

22 Sunday Dec 2013

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That’s right, I’m the Christmas Grinch.  At least my son will think so Christmas morning when he doesn’t get the gift he has his heart set upon.  But can you blame me?  It’s Grand Theft Auto V (GTAV).  I don’t like many video games – especially ones with violence and guns – but I must admit I have caved on a few.  However, my feet are firm now. 

For several months my son has been asking for GTAV.  For several months I have been saying no.   His argument for the game is that all his friends have it.  That – in itself – is very disturbing.  My son is eleven.  So are his friends.  What parent allows their 11-year-old to play a game with violence, blood, cursing – and did I mention prostitutes and sex?  

When JJ first asked me for a video game system, I refused.  He was heartbroken.  “But Mom, I have no friends,” he said.   “And you think sitting inside playing videos is going to change that?” I responded.   “Yea,” he answered. “All the kids at school play together online every day.”  Obviously, I was quite out-of-touch.     

When I was a kid, we played outside.  Bands of children running through neighbor’s yards playing hide-and-seek.  We joined with other kids on the block and had punch ball tournaments in the street, or we’d ride bikes till it got dark.  That’s how we played together.  Times have surely changed.

Maybe I’m a little guilty, because I don’t let my children roam the neighborhood like I did years ago.  But it’s not like they’re always sitting home.  Both JJ and Lara have dabbled in many activities  – gymnastics, baseball, guitar, choir, swimming, robotics, chess, afterschool drama club….I could go on and on.   But now they’re limited to two main activities.  They’ve been taking Tae Kwon Do since they were four; JJ is in the Boy Scouts and Lara takes drum lessons.  

Even so, JJ continued tugging at my heart strings until they broke.  Still, I didn’t run out and buy him a system.  I shared the expense with him and his sister for an XBOX 360.  Big mistake.  Big, big mistake.  Now his ‘friends’ are playing GTAV.  

I’ve explained – till I’m blue in the face – that the game is violent and the language they use is inappropriate.  That robbing and killing people for cars is not how you get them – working hard and purchasing them is the only acceptable route.  And furthermore, equally important, I don’t want him treating women with disrespect.  Now, I’m no Pollyanna but that game is off my moral compass.    

His response, “Mamma, don’t you think I know it’s a game? I just want to play with my friends.”   

Now I don’t blame JJ’s friends for enjoying games that are way above their mind’s capacity to process what is actually taking place.  They are, in fact, just children.  But they are children who are becoming dehumanized and desensitized by having the shock factor removed from truly horrible actions while taking part in behaviors that are detrimental to their emotional and psychological growth.  

While I believe I am doing the right thing for my son, my heart is still breaking and it will be crushed on Christmas morning when he realizes that Santa, nor I, got him what he really wanted.  I’m hoping Santa brings him new friends this year.  Friends who have parents who care to raise socially and politically correct adults with a conscience.  To me, that groundwork is a little shaky when 11-year-olds are allowed to pick up hookers and participate in desensitizing violence while ‘playing’ GTAV.   

(c) 2013 September Mom

Derf – The Elf On Our Shelves

21 Saturday Dec 2013

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I’ve had an Elf on just about every shelf in my house for the past few weeks. It’s the third Christmas we’ve shared with our Elf, Derf – Fred, backwards.

When I got Derf I thought the children were too old to believe that the Elf could really fly back and forth to Santa each night to report on their behavior. But it was worth a shot to keep them in line. I still remember seeing JJ and Lara’s eyes light up when I opened the Barnes & Noble bag and pulled out our very own Elf on a Shelf box. Lara’s eyes were fixed on the box with a bright smile while JJ screamed, “We’ve got an Elf!” Right then I knew the $29 Elf was worth the bucks.

That night we cuddled on the couch and read the book about the new addition to our family. We placed the open box with Derf in it on the couch so he could fly back to the North Pole. The next morning, you would have thought it was already Christmas. Grabbing the Elf on a Shelf box Lara shouted, “JJ, he’s not here! He went to Santa last night! Let’s see if he’s back!” It was only my first day on the job so I wasn’t very inventive on his landing shelf. Derf was perched atop the breakfront in the living room. When JJ’s eye caught the little red Elf outfit he pointed in excitement, “There he is Lara!” They squealed.

Granted it’s a strange looking elf, but watching their joy was – and is – wonderful. Yes, at 10 and 11 they still believe – or maybe they just want to believe. Either way, it’s okay by me. A piece of me that doesn’t believe in much anymore revels in their happiness and innocence.

Every morning during the Christmas season, Derf is the first thing they look for. No good morning kiss, no hug for Mom. Just the sound of their feet rushing around on the hardwood floors in search of Derf.

Derf has been on the glass shelf in the kitchen window, on the picture shelf in the living room, on the soap shelf in the tub, on the bookshelf in the hallway and shelves in JJ and Lara’s rooms. He’s been perched behind paintings, cradled in the Christmas tree, sat atop the 42” inch nutcracker and he’s taken a ride on my Lenox reindeer. He’s been in closets, on ceiling fans, hanging off chimes and peeking out of vases.

I must admit I was a lot more inventive with Derf’s landing spots last year – or even the one before that. It’s getting a little old for me. Or maybe I’m getting old. I resent getting up at 3am to move a little plastic Elf. And there have been nights I’ve forgotten. Not a good idea.

“Mamma – Derf didn’t move! He didn’t go to the North Pole last night,” the kids would cry fearfully “Something’s wrong! Why didn’t he go?” The words in my mind were, because I was too damn tired to get up and move him. But the words that rolled off my tongue were, “He must really like that spot, he’s got a good view of the house from there.” That little guy has turned into quite a responsibility.

But it’s been fun. I created an email account for Derf so he could communicate with my children during the year. Every now and then he’ll write to them and tell them to behave. It works for about 20 minutes. Last year my daughter emailed him and asked if he could come down for her birthday. Of course he did. But Mom got lazy and instead of putting him in his regular hiding spot – I put him back in the book box he came in.

One day when Lara was in my room she saw the box at the top of the closet and pulled it down. Out tumbled Derf. She screamed – and cried – and screamed louder. “Mamma, Derf was stuck in the box, he never got back to Santa. He’s dead!!!! We killed him!!!” Lara was beside herself in tears. “It’s my fault because he came back for my birthday.”

I tried to comfort Lara but nothing worked. She was wracked with guilt and her dreams were being shattered before my eyes. I felt like ripping Derf’s little red elf head off.

Suddenly, as if someone flipped a switch, Lara looked at me with anger and tears in her eyes. “He’s not real is he Mamma?” she cried. “Tell me the truth! He doesn’t really fly to Santa does he?! Mamma don’t lie to me!!”

I found myself at a crossroad. Do I lie? Or tell her the truth. Do I encourage her to believe? Or do I start wiping colors from her rainbow? It was oh, so, tempting to think I could sleep through the night without having to move Derf’s little red butt to another location at 3a.m. An uninterrupted night of sleep beckoned me. But my daughter was waiting to hear if it was time to grow up.

I lied. Knowingly and willingly, I lied. “Lara, he probably wasn’t needed at the North Pole after your birthday so he stayed for awhile,” I said while placing the open box on the floor. “I’m sure he’ll make his way back now.” She looked relieved.

I think we both knew I was lying but I think we both wanted to believe. I wanted her to believe in something special, fun and magical – for at least one more year. And she wanted to believe, to enjoy the excitement of being a child at Christmas – she just needed the permission.

No Mamma…There Is No Santa Claus

06 Friday Dec 2013

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During breakfast recently at the International House of Pancakes my children informed me that, “There is no Santa Claus.” The topic arose when I nonchalantly mentioned getting their lists done for Santa so he had some time to make their gifts. Little did I know…..

“You mean so you have time to go shopping, don’t you Mamma?” quipped JJ.

“No. I don’t,” I responded sternly. “I get my gifts for you from stores. But we need to mail Santa your list so he can bring his gifts to you.”

“Hey, didn’t Santa give us the iPod Touches last year?” questioned Lara. “Didn’t know elves made Apple products.”

“Or that their work was warranted at the Apple store,” JJ added sarcastically.

My heart sank. JJ and Lara have been very vocal with their Christmas magic doubts this year and I’ve been tap dancing around their comments. But it’s been getting harder. In my heart I knew that if I could pull it off this year – it would probably be the last year Santa Claus would be part of their childhood vocabulary.

“Lara, Santa and the elves are busy making a ton of gifts for lots of kids. iPods are a big thing. I’m sure he has an agreement with Apple for manufacturing, distribution and to help fix them when they break.” I realized how silly that sounded and pictured Steve Jobs turning over in his grave.

“Right,” JJ said flatly. “Then maybe you can explain why the Fire Department brought Santa to our house last year? Did the reindeer turn into firemen at 12:00am? And Santa’s sleigh turn to into a fire truck?”

As our waitress placed pancakes and omelets on the table she caught JJ’s comment. Glancing at me she raised her eyebrows as if to say, “Good luck.”

“JJ we live in the city. Just where do you expect Santa’s reindeer to land? On our roof? They wouldn’t fit! So Santa parks the reindeer up on the boulevard and the firemen take Santa to houses in the neighborhood while the reindeer take a rest.”

Our waitress’ lip curled in a sly smile as she asked if anyone wanted anything else to drink. Ignoring her question JJ pushed, “So why did you slip one of the firemen an envelope?”

“I’ll take some more coffee please,” I responded to the waitress in a pathetic stall for time. When our eyes met her eyebrows raised and head tilted as if to say, “They got’cha.” But I’m not sunk yet, I thought.

“JJ, why can’t I give our firemen a Christmas card and thank them for making sure Santa gets to our house on Christmas Eve? Those firemen watch out for us all year round. I wish I could give them more.”

For a moment I thought I’d won because the interrogation ended. But it was the whipped cream on the pile of pancakes that stole their attention. So I sipped my coffee and glanced nervously around at the tables nearest us, fearful that our conversation may have crushed some 3-year-old’s dreams. Luckily, the youngest child in our section was about two tables away – out of earshot.

In my mind I thought back to when JJ and Lara were 3 and 4-years-old. For three years I took them to Santa’s Village at the North Pole. We’d spend the day at a Christmas themed amusement park and there were holiday related activities at night. I could still hear my daughter screaming, “Mamma it’s Santa!” when the big man in red showed up. Now they’re 10 and 11, and I’d do anything – including lie – to have one more year of keeping them enchanted with Christmas magic.

As if he heard my thoughts JJ said, “You know Mamma, we’re getting older. It’s time to tell us the truth about Santa Claus.”

I knew a heard a twinge of doubt in his voice. Both he and Lara were watching me intently and I didn’t have the heart to let them grow up just yet, so I just shook my head and answered, “The truth is that if you don’t believe in him, he won’t come. Do you want to take that chance?”

Lara and JJ glanced quickly at each other – then back to me. “We’ll believe in Santa if you want us to Mamma,” Lara said. “Yea, and his firemen….oh I mean reindeer,” added JJ.

Although they acted secure in their disbelief – they weren’t willing to take the chance that Santa may not come. Or maybe…just maybe…they wanted to believe for one more year. Or maybe….just maybe…it was me who wanted them to believe…for just one more year.

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