Santa

Controversy alert! I've probably mentioned this before: our kids do not believe in Santa. We have never told them that Santa is real. Jeff and I both agreed long ago that we would never lie to our kids. Therefore, Santa is safely in his realm of make-believe. We watch movies about him. We read stories about him. We sing songs about him. But we don't BELIEVE in him. I don't think any of the fun is diminished by keeping Santa in his place. Every time someone who is really in to Santa finds out that I don't lie to my kids about him, they practically jump down my throat and try to convince me that I'm depriving my kids of a truly magical experience. I find myself instantly thrown on the defensive whenever Santa comes up. It seems like the NORM should be for parents NOT to lie to their kids, and yet at this time of year I am constantly defending my honest position. I'm telling you, people feel more strongly about Santa than they do about breastfeeding, circumcision, baby-wearing, car seat safety, and cloth diapering combined! "Let your kids believe in the magic!" they say in incredulously wounded tones. 

But magic is not real. The first time we read Harry Potter to the kids, we didn't tell them that the story was true to make it more magical. It was plenty magical in its fictional form. So why would we selectively lie about magic? And then a few years down the road say "just kidding! haha!" I want my kids to trust me. I tell them so many things that I deeply desire them to believe and TRUST. For example: Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world and he loves us! How can my kids know what's real and what's not in this progressively more fuzzy and gray world if they can't even trust me, their own mother to tell them the truth?

Is the fact that I did not lie to my kids about Santa really going to be the deciding factor on whether they believe in God or not? No. Do I judge people who decide to tell their kids Santa is real? No. I don't understand it (in fact it baffles me), but I don't judge. Cross my heart, I honestly do make that distinction between judgement and baffle-ment. And I also invent words when it suits me.

One of my family's most beloved (if cheesy) Christmas music albums is by the Ray Conniff Singers: Christmas with Conniff, released in the 1959. It was part of the package deal when Jeff married me: we listen to Christmas with Conniff in December (among other amazing old school Christmas albums). Being the classy fellow that he is, Jeff has learned most of the words, harmonies, and arrangements and now he sings along with me, cheesy intros and all. Jeff is a pro at embellishing a good cheesy song. One of the cheesy intros starts like this: "What is the meaning of Christmas? It is a celebration of the birth of the Christ child! This we must never forget! Oh, this we must never forget! But there are other little things too. Yes, there are other things tooooo..." then it transitions into "chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." etc. That funny little intro sums up my opinion on the great Santa debate. Never forget what's real, but enjoy the pretend along the way. 

Conclusion: I love the religious meanings behind holidays like Christmas and Easter. I also enjoy the cultural side notes to those religious roots, like Santa and Easter eggs. But I reserve my belief and do my best to cultivate my kids' faith for the more meaningful, lasting, and important of the two. 

All of that being said, I was surprised to find that I felt rather bummed when two years ago our ward stopped having Santa at the ward Christmas party. Before, when Santa showed up at the church I felt kind of squirmy, like Santa shouldn't be the focus of a church activity. I've been to ward parties that go overboard on the Santa thing, and other ward activities that go...under-board (?) on the big guy. Basically there's no way to make everyone happy, and I totally get that. BUT even I like a little Santa side-note! I know you can go pretty much anywhere to see Santa these days, but I do not stand in lines for Santa. So Jay and Rose have not seen Santa in two years (not that they ever liked him back then). Pictures with Santa are kind of a rite of passage in any childhood. I can't resist a good cultural icon, especially in photographic form. As long as long lines are not involved. Hence my disappointment when Santa ceased to conveniently appear at our not-overly-crowded ward Christmas party.

GET TO THE POINT, SHAINA!

On Sunday I had an epiphany: dress Jeff up as Santa and take the classic kids-with-Santa pictures in the comfort of our own home. The dad is basically Santa for the family anyways! Why didn't I think of this before! Fleece is my medium! "I know just what to do!" I laughed in my throat. And I made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat. [singing "you're a mean one, Mr. Grinch!" in my head the whole time] I used an old red 5k race t-shirt turned inside out to hide the words. Then I safety-pinned pieces of white fleece in a most convincing configuration all over the red shirt. It was all topped off with a soft white fleece beard and a $3 Santa hat--what a great Shaina trick! This coat and this hat look just like Saint Nick!  

It does have a somewhat Grinch-y flare, does it not?





Santa came to family home evening last night. I set up a little photo studio and positioned the chair just right so the tissue papered lights could diffuse their glow at the most advantageous angle in our dark family room (we have zero ceiling lights in the family room--an evening photo nightmare).

Amber used up her best smiles helping me get the lighting right.

Jeff got all dressed up. He was going to wear jeans with the Santa-shirt since we don't have any red sweatpants, but when I offered him my TIGHT old high school-issue Underarmour running leggings, he said "you had me at tight." I could barely see straight to dig them out of the box, I was laughing so hard.

And that, girls, is why you marry quality.

Every now and then that pesky tissue paper floated into the shot. 

Rose took a picture of me on Santa's lap. Amber wanted in on the hug. 

Maybe I believe in Santa after all.