This year’s visit to Santa confirmed something I think I’ve known for a while now but have not yet admitted to myself out loud. NO MORE BABIES at my house. I don’t mean: “I’m not having any more babies” (although I am NOT planning on it)… I rather mean: The little girls that live at my house are no longer babies. For some reason, I’m taken aback by this.
Fabulous… Am I going to have to rename this blog?!?! (Given that whole “F______ After BABIES” theme…)
Over the past few years, I’ve somehow carved this habit of calling my non-baby kids ‘babies’ at all times… Yes baby? How can I help you babe? You’re my baaaaaaa-by! I want to hold you like baby… I call my little girls babies every single day (even the 4 year old). How are my babies? I’ll ask. At any unguarded moment I’ll scoop one of them up into a cradle position and playfully rock them back and forth (which then turns jokingly into a forceful spin-around just to get them to giggle and wildly shriek “Ok ok put me down!!!”). “Mommy can you rock me a little bit?” my 4 year old sometimes asks before… I do. “Mommy pick me up!” my 2 year old LilMiss demands… I do (half-grudgingly and half-lovingly as I quickly remember how fast my 4 year old got to be 4). And in between all of this magical-mommy-broo-ha-ha I wonder when the hell they’re going to be able to run themselves. But they’re MY babies. And like any been-around-the-block mom will attest: They’ll always be my babies.
So like any mom-with-babies, I decided to dress mine up as over-the-top elves for this year’s big Santa meeting. (I mean, my days of pulling off ridiculous stunts like this are numbered. To be frank, I’m shocked LadyP was game to even play along.)
MY BABIES. But this time, they sure didn’t act like babies. Every year, it’s been an incarnation of the same scene played out at Americana at Brand’s impressive Santa House. I was ready for it again. Considering their track record I was shocked, stunned, happy, confused, unprepared and all-of-the-above…
No screaming at the distant sight of the dude in the big red suit and then trying to wiggle away from his beard so that it doesn’t touch the side of your cheek.
No hysterical wailing with buckets of insta-tears streaming down anyone’s face (ok that may’ve been my fault, considering our outfit mishap).
No more clinging onto my delicate blouse as I tried to gingerly situate anyone on St. Nick’s lap.
No more stepping into the picture because it was the only way to NOT lose the money I’d just paid to get the picture taken in the first place.
No, this year’s visit was epic. One for the books. My miniature people marched right up to Mr. Claus with big smiles, waved ‘hi’ and propped themselves right onto his knees…. willingly. LadyP’s big ice breaker right from the get-go was explaining to the Man With The Bag himself that she was sporting a small version of Santa’s face in the middle of the big bow on her new headband. LilMiss even tried to give him a hug at the end and then murmured something about a ‘little dog’ and a ‘little bear.’ I stood and watched the spectacle. A third party. A bystander. Both of them were happy, polite, respectable (if you don’t count asking for another candy cane). I was proud. And then a part of me felt a little left out. Wait! Does anyone want me to hold their hand and reassure them how nice Santa is?!?! NO MORE BABIES…
But I guess that’s the whole goal. Am I ready for ‘no more babies’? Doesn’t matter. They’re gone. Babies grow up and get it together… our most frequent job as moms is just to keep it together. New phases don’t wait for us moms to be ‘ready’ for them before they start happening, so try to remind yourself that every day is a special gift that we cannot get back… yes, I fight the fight and do this even on my most tantrum-y and scream-my-head-off days. On this day, I expected the tantrum and there wasn’t one… from anyone… which felt FABULOUS and FLEETING at the same time. Now fancy that. (NOTE: Dressing as an elf can soften the blow. EXTRA NOTE: No, I’m not changing the name of this blog.)
HOW DID YOUR SANTA PICTURES GO THIS YEAR? ANY MELTDOWNS? BREAKTHROUGHS?