With Christmas soon approaching, I remembered this post that I wrote after last Christmas on January 5. It’s kind of a funny account of how nervous I get on Christmas Eve in preparations for the arrival of gifts for the children the next morning.

Well, read on…and maybe I’ll find that this year it becomes a little easier…but we’ll see!!

If there’s one thing that I find myself still hung up on about Christmas, its Santa Claus. Not the believing in him part, or the emphasis on him throughout, but the actual execution of his arrival and gift delivery. I find myself becoming skittish even now as I write this, reminding myself that, in fact, Logan doesn’t yet know how to read everything, and even if he did, he doesn’t know how to access this blog – so the secret is safe in here… isn’t it?

Christmas Eve at our house is just as nice any. Chris usually plays bass with the praise band at church and the boys and I play or watch Christmas shows and read an assortment of Christmas stories until he gets home (there are two services…we attend the first one). Then the boys set up a tray by the fireplace and leave Santa a hand-made note next to an abundance of sugar cookies, chocolate covered pretzels, peanut butter kiss cookies and milk. Oh yes, and carrots for Rudolf. It’s a magical and exciting time filled with wonder and innocence. This year Logan made a special cookie just for Santa. It was an extra large peanut butter cookie with three Hershey kisses installed upon it. It was served along side a big glass of chocolate milk. Chocolate milk was new this year with the assumption that this is what the man in red prefers. We do it hear it actually has some good health properties, anyway!

We read “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” together and then tuck the boys in, reinstating the fact that Santa doesn’t arrive until children are sound asleep, so there is no need for staying awake and coming out of the room. This year Chris and I head back down stairs to watch the movie Elf – that aught to be plenty of time for Logan to drift into a deep slumber. Or would he? I don’t worry about Eli yet, of course, as he is still in a crib. It is now when the panic sets in for me – when we assume that sleep is deep and unobstructed. This panic doesn’t subside in me until long after I have gotten into bed after Santa has come and gone.

This year, (but really no different than every year) I take a nervous post in the living room when the delivery of gifts commences, with a clear view of the top of the stairs…but more closely on Logan’s doorway. Should he happen to wake up while the delivery is being made, I can make a B-line to him in a desperate (yet calm…but who are we kidding, really)  attempt at keeping him upstairs and Santa’s cover safe. Chris thinks I’m ridiculous. But, how would he feel should Logan decide to come strolling out of his room while the Santa gifts are being placed under the tree with Daddy’s hands on them? Therefore, I think my fast-beating heart and wringing of my sweaty palms throughout this process are well justified. “SHHHHH! Hold on!” I shout in a whisper, while waving my hand furiously as Chris comes up the stairs with an arm-full of gifts. “I think I heard something!!” Oh boy, the look he gives me in mid-stride tells me that my shenanigans are too much. I pace back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, tensing up anytime there is a rustle of wrapping paper. “Don’t be too loud!” I say to him.

I’m perhaps coming to a place of some relaxation by the time the delivery is almost finished and I think, ok, another year in the bag (hehe) and then I realize it’s time to fill the stockings. Chris and I of course fill each other’s at this time too-which means I have to abandon my post. And, with every bit of respect due to my loving husband, he does not share the same, uh…passion, for this cause as I do. His eyes certainly don’t remain on the top of the stairs like mine do and when I happen to look up and see him not paying attention, I have to remind him the keep looking! Logan could wake up and walk down here any minute!!!!!!! This is for real.

So, once the stockings are filled, comes the hardest part, and that is what to do with the offering of cookies, milk and carrots. And, that part is just so bittersweet – more so making me feel fraudulent than anything. I have a friend who is adamant that there is nothing wrong with the whole Santa project (I will call it). That it is part of what make the holiday a fun one. Whose a child who doesn’t believe in Santa? Why not indulge in a fanciful story. It’s part of what makes a kid a kid. And, I agree. It is fun to be a part of that and it lasts only so long and the grand scheme things. But, ask me if I think it’s still fun next year at midnight on Christmas Eve. I have, let’s see, somewhere around 350 days to gear up again to save Santa’s cover.