It’s the day after Easter as the kids all head to school with their sugar hangovers from too much candy and the parents heave a sigh of relief that it is over.
I have never been one to get into the hubbub of holiday stress. For one, I have never participated in the common lie to my kids that there is a Santa, or Easter Bunny, or even tooth fairy for that matter. Some parents have told me that I have no imagination. Some have told me how much my kids will resent me when they get older.
Holidays have become too commercialized and selfish over the years. Instead of people celebrating the true meaning of Christmas and Easter, they are all about “me me me me” and “what did you get me?” Christmas commercials come around Halloween now, and back in the day, at least they waited until after Thanksgiving. The bombardment of advertisements provokes kids to beg, plead, throw tantrums, do whatever to get what they feel like that HAVE to have, because the TV says so. (Incidentally, I do not own a TV!)
I find that as parents, it is our responsibility to be truthful to our kids (at ALL times) and not lead them to believe in things that they will eventually find out are not true. Personally, I think it’s kinda mean to lead a kid to believe in magic, only for them to discover that the magic was never really there to begin with.
My childhood was wrought with every form of abuse and neglect, though my “parents” still did the Santa Claus and Easter Bunny thing. Believing in that magic, is what helped me get through some tough times, believing that somewhere out there, there IS a big fat man in a red suit that could save me…or at least bring me joy for one day of the year.
When I was eight years old, I discovered that there was no such thing as the Easter Bunny or Santa, and I was crushed. I was crushed that I was stuck in my hell, with no magical reprieve. I think what crushed me most, was that I lied to and led to believe in something that is not there. That’s a tough realization for an eight year old to grasp, lost in her own world of terror and misery. There was to be no reprieve until she could do something about it on her own.
I want my kids to believe in a higher power, that is bigger than them or you or I. I want them to know that I will always be truthful, no matter what. I don’t want to deceive them and crush them as I was once crushed. I want them to believe in the spirit of Christmas and Easter as it is meant to be, about God, in whatever form he may exist in. I want them to be selfless, not selfish, and I feel like nowadays, the holidays bring out more of the latter in people. I want my kids to be logical and realize how impossible it would be for a big fat stalker in a red suit to physically visit everyone in one night and leave presents, or in a bunny that lays eggs (how did that one come to be, anyway? A bunny, laying eggs???) and yet, I want them to be spiritual and believe in a higher power that they can’t see.
Am I unimaginative? Yes, yes I am, which is why I am not good at fictional writing. Am I honest? Yes, yes I am, maybe to a fault in other’s eyes (though I have never thought that there is such a thing as being “too” honest like has been said to me in the past) but you know what? I would rather be honest and live in peace with people,than to deceive and lead people to believe “magic” that does not exist. Life is not always the fairies and glitter that we would wish it to be.