Holiday hangover

In our earlier, more ambitious years of parenting, Mark and I amassed and wrapped a children's Christmas book for Ben to open each night of Advent. We quickly became lazy and stopped wrapping and instead put the book in a gift bag. One bag featured a picture of a snowman, and somehow a lore developed that the "Magic Snowman" delivered books at night. These days, the Magic Snowman leaves the books on Gus's bed completely unadorned.

The signs of Christmas meltdown are all over Gus's face

A few years ago, Gus went through a "Llama Llama" phase. It's a charming series of children's books that features Llama Llama, who's decidedly kid-like in that he's sweet but has his share of transgressions. His Llama Mama wears cute capri pants and remains mostly patient through Little Llama Llama's little dramas.

Llama Llama Holiday Drama appeared on Gus's pillow a week or two ago. Little Llama Llama bakes
cookies, makes presents, wraps gifts and in general is told he must wait, wait, wait for Christmas. This leads to an inevitable meltdown. "All this waiting for one day? Time for presents right away! Too much music, too much fluff! Too much making, too much stuff! Too much everything for Llama ..."

I can relate to poor Llama Llama, and there's no doubt my kids can. In these weeks leading up to Christmas, I've swung between feeling excited and drained. I must admit to Grinchishly asking myself once in a while if it could really be Christmastime already and must we be called to go all out like this on an annual basis.

Everyone in the house is nursing a festive cold. Paul has been hacking painfully for two weeks now. As he and Gus and I trudged through Target the other day, Paul broke into his umpteenth spastic coughing fit. "OK, enough, Paul!" I whined stupidly, cruelly.

It's not that I don't like Christmas. I do. I love it, in fact. It's just that my favorite parts of the holiday - sharing special times with my family and drawing near to the ones I hold dearest, just seems to get lost in all the frantic preparations. Too much fluff, too much stuff, stretched too thin.

As we gathered at my in-laws' house Saturday for the first of many Christmas celebrations my family will attend, I saw many signs of holiday hangover, and the big dance hasn't even happened yet. "I'm just not feeling Christmas this year," one sister-in-law lamented.

Gus hurled toward meltdown as the wait to open gifts stretched on and on. When it finally arrived, he excitedly went tripping through the packages, threatening to upend gift bags and stomp on boxes. "Be careful, Gus!" a relative admonished. I felt slightly wounded on his behalf. I can remember being little, and I can understand how hard it is to have prettily wrapped gifts bearing your name laid out before you only to hear wait, wait, wait.

After the presents were opened, I found Ben lying on his stomach, his face smashed into the couch. He looked utterly bereft. "Feeling exhausted?" I asked, rubbing his back.

"Yeah, it just wasn't what I'd pictured," Ben sighed. 

I could relate to it all: my sister-in-law's holiday apathy, Gus's restlessness, the relative who was concerned about him making a mess of so much work, Ben's lack of fulfillment. Christmas already? I can't wait to give the boys their presents. Hey, slow down, guys! Is it over already? 

In no time, it will be over. While there's still time, though, I'm going to focus on my favorite parts of Christmas. I'll snuggle with Gus and read a book the Magic Snowman has delivered, share my favorite movies with the boys, try to commit a few random acts of kindness, blast Christmas music and eat way too many cookies. 

Presents are fun, but my family and friends are my favorite gift, and as long as I have them, I'll survive this holiday hangover.

Careful what you wish for

It wasn't so long ago that Ben's social life - or lack thereof - was high on my list of worries. For a time, Mark and I used to beg, plead and, on and occasion or two, bribe Ben to put himself out there socially. As the saying goes, watch what you wish for because you just might get it.

Once the boy who was seemingly content to spend his hours reading, hanging out with the family or playing video games on his own, our oldest son's social life has found its wings. And now, of course, I'm wishing things were a little more like they used to be.

On a recent weekend, Ben went on a middle school bus trip to Folk Fair, an ethnic festival in Milwaukee. He was gone all day Saturday, and when I picked him up in the turnaround of his school parking lot, in some ways it was like I'd retrieved an entirely new boy.

Ben had spent the day with a friend, eating a Filipino combo plate (and many churros). It's the kind of thing that he'd never try if I were there, but he clearly enjoyed this bit of freedom. In the car, he handed me a bracelet he'd bought for me. He'd also purchased small gifts for his dad and brothers. Who was this kid?

Once home, Ben promptly received a text from our neighbor and his best friend, Ben, and he was gone. That night, he asked if his friend, Austin, could spend the night. I agreed, having a hard time wrapping my head around exactly how we'd gotten to this point.

I relish watching Ben form bonds. I love that he's got a best buddy. The Bens are together most of the time, either here or at the other Ben's house. It makes me smile to see them carry on like brothers and tell their many inside jokes.

Though he's got the faintest hint if a mustache, Ben has yet to undergo his major growth spurt, but his friends certainly have. They come over with their ginormous, man-sized feet and deep voices, and it's hard to believe that these were the little boys who first came to Ben's birthday parties years ago. I remember learning that adolescence is the fastest time of growth aside from babyhood, and that is happening before my eyes.

In a lot of ways, though, the youth of these boys still shines through. Yes, one of Ben's good friends may be old enough to have a kind-of-girlfriend, but that doesn't mean he and Ben are too old to unabashedly tell truly lame jokes in the car while I sit and shake my head, smiling. 

I must admit that part of me feels sad. Ben has begun to seek autonomy, which is natural and good, but it leaves me feeling lonesome for his company and a time that passed all too quickly. He still loves to sit down and watch "Survivor" with Mark and me, but at bedtime where he used to come snuggle in our bed for his reading time before retiring to his own room, he now heads to his room to read solo. For now Ben still wants to be tucked in, but I know it's just a matter of time before he merely accepts good night hugs rather than actually seeking them.

Despite my blues, wish from not so long ago was sincere, and I'm happy it came true. My boy is becoming his own young man and all is right in the world.