Holiday Lessons for Parenthood
For many years I would carefully pick Holiday cards for friends and family. I’d thoughtfully write personal notes in each, gracefully sweep their names across the envelope, and seal them up. This is when I’d run into trouble. Addresses. I did know my own address, so I would write that out fifty times. But, my friend’s addresses? Suddenly, card production would stall. I’d set the stack aside to be worked on later.
After a few days, I might have found one or two scraps of paper with old contacts. I’d dig through the pile of cards, and fill out the few that I had. Then I’d set the stack aside, for later.
Eventually, I’d get stamps. That always felt good. Get them all stamped up and ready to go! Except, for the mostly still missing addresses. So, I’d set them aside, for later.
By now, it would be past Hanukah and pushing Christmas with a short stick. The next time I looked, it would be mid-January. A wee bit too late to send cards. I’d sigh deeply. Save them for a little while, and then throw them away.
Next year. Repeat. This went on for many, many years with cards in various stages of development, but never sent. One year I had all the addresses, but froze when trying to write the cards. Another year, I had half of them fully ready, but the unfinished cards seemed to weigh down the whole bunch. They never made it. The next year, hopeful and thinking of friends, I’d try again. Nope.
Then I married, late in life, to a man who is miraculously and extraordinarily capable when it comes to the art of mailing. For a few years, we successfully tag teamed the holiday cards. I bought them. He wrote them, printed address labels, stamped them, and mailed them. It was amazing!
And then, the kids showed up. Holiday cards went the way of a clean house and sane mind. Poof. Gone. Older now, more mature, I acknowledged that sending cards would never be a strong point for me. I let it go.
But now, one of those kids is a crafty eleven year old. She has dressed up the dog in Christmas garlands and bows. Staged her with a holiday snowman stuffie. Taken a picture of this holiday beastie. Found some way to add “Merry Christmas” to the picture in green and red calligraphy. Made multiple copies. And now wants me…me(!) to help her write and send them out.
Sigh. The things we do for our children. I went digging through my phone and discovered, I still don’t have addresses for my friends and family. Texts are now flying around seeking snail mail addresses. Little does my daughter know the trauma her endeavor evokes. Okay, that’s a bit mellow dramatic, but still, I’d given up on mastering this social grace. I acknowledge my friends in other ways.
This is, of course, a central truth of parenthood. Our kids make us learn and grow. Sometimes we are willing. Sometimes not so much.
Since having children I’ve had to learn to like pink, learn to have more patience than is humanly possible, learn to let go, learn how to take action without knee jerk reacting, how to say “no” and how to say “yes,” how to give twins a potty seat break in the back of a minivan, how to teach a kid to pee in the bushes, how to shame a tween into flushing the toilet by taking a photo of said toilet, and so many more things. Now, I’m learning how to mail stuff.
But, the best part is learning to see the world fresh through my children’s eyes. My daughter takes such joy in creating these cards, and planning gifts for everyone. Her holidays are new and bright and full of love. I won’t let her down. I’ve gotten seven out of eight addresses. Dad was sent out to get envelopes that will fit her card, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got stamps somewhere. Even old dogs can learn new tricks when properly motivated.
Happy Holidays to All!
