Why Santa is Better to My Kids Than Yours .... and Sorry About That!

[Note:  Did I hit all the right capital letters in that title?  When you are a public grammar nazi you do stress about these things.]

Santa.  Ah Santa.  The man who can make or break your holiday.  That big, fat, jolly guy with his magical sleigh and flying reindeer.  Tiny elves making presents at the North Pole in a super cool workshop.  Mrs. Claus baking cookies and serving hot chocolate.  Snow falling.  Bells ringing.  Carols playing.

I love Christmas.  I love everything about it.  I read that Love Languages book once and my love language is giving.  There is not much that makes me happier than seeing people receive gifts I have chosen for them whether they cost money or not.  Every Christmas I bust my ass with my photography business so Santa has money to spend on our kids.  I want to spoil my kids rotten on Christmas.  I want piles and piles of presents and lots of wrapping paper to open and a big, hideous mess in the end.  I want that magic.  It's more about me than them.  I know.

"That's not what Christmas is about."
"That's excessive."
"Kids don't need all those presents."
"You are making everyone else look bad."
"That's a want, not a need."
"Well WEEEEE don't do that."
"You are forgetting the real meaning of Christmas."

The real meaning of Christmas.  Oh how that is a touchy subject - especially in the bible belt.  I buy a Christmas gift at Toys R Us and half expect someone to jump out from under my car and thump me over the head with their bible while reading me the story of Christ's birth.

I got it.  I promise.  I got it.

We are a family that believes that you live your life in a way that makes God proud 364 days a year.  (Yes.  364.  You can mess up one day.  He'll forgive you -- Hello, I did read the bible.  I know why he died.  Duh.) You don't go to church on Sunday and be a good person for that hour and then come home and forget about it all the rest of the week.  Unless, of course, you remember by posting bible verses and stuff on Facebook because God's favorite pastime when he's not creating life and such is reading your Facebook posts.  Anyhow, I digress.

So I get it.  Here, in our house, we have a nativity.  Everyone knows WHY we celebrate Christmas.  We don't open a gift on Christmas morning until we sing happy birthday to Baby Jesus (and, if I remembered, blow out a candle on his cake.  Or cupcake.  Or cookie that Santa didn't eat.  Whatever.)  Our kids get 3 presents from Dad and Mom just like Jesus got 3 presents from those wise guys.  (One of my kids used to call them "the wise guys" and I can't remember who it was, dangit, but it was cute enough to use again.)  Then Santa leaves the rest of the stuff.  Some is wrapped and some is unwrapped.  Everyone has their own secret Santa wrapping paper.  Everyone has the same number of wrapped gifts.  Whoever finds the pickle on the tree starts and opens their first gift.  Then it goes clockwise until all Santa gifts are open.

This year we had 19 wrapped Santa gifts.  NINE.  TEEN.  Excessive?  Yes.  Over the top?  Yes.  Did they need it all?  No.  Do I care?  No.

Here is why.  And this is where this long blog post gets real.

For 364 days a year (with the exception of your birthday) if you are a Walsh, you are expected to do your part.  Sometimes it's easy.  Sometimes it's not.  There is no allowance, you are just expected to do. your. part.  "If you think in the real world someone is going to pay you for just 'existing,' you are wrong."  So no.  There are things that are expected of you when you are a Walsh.

A strong work ethic.  At home and at school.
Kindness.
Compassion.
Loyalty.
Honesty.
Respect.
Forgiveness.
GOOD MANNERS!

You are expected to be the kind of person that people want to tell me good things about, not bad.  Yes, you can slip.  Yes, you can fall.  But 99% of the time, you need to make us proud.  And the more you do around here and the more you give to the family, the more you get in return.  Allowance - so to speak - is doled out based on a "what have you done for us lately" basis.  I say no or "put it on your list" all year.  Rewards are trips to the dollar store.  Christmas is the one time each year I spoil my kids rotten.  I work hard to do that for them because I want them to grow up and remember how awesome Christmas was when they were kids.  And I feel like they deserve it after all they have done for our family for 364 days.  

God would want that.  He would want me to find joy in giving.  I know he knows how happy my soul is on Christmas morning.  How "blessed" I feel by the warm feeling of family that surrounds me.  That the smiles and surprised looks on their faces are memories that are etched in my heart for-freakin-ever.

Every year we give back - we pick names off an angel tree and stuff the bus at every school with toys for local kids.  But this year I added something cool into my giving based off an idea from a friend.  The week before Christmas I gave each child some money and told them to think about how they could use it to make someone happy.  Do a random act of kindness.  Then we headed out.  Hallie decided to buy cookies and coke and bring it to the local police and fire stations to say thanks for keeping us safe.  Parker decided to use all of his money at the dollar store to buy as many presents as he could to make as many kids happy as possible and we donated them to toys for tots.  [Truth:  Parker initially wanted to give to the church because he heard if you give to God, he gives back two fold and he was hoping to make a quick hundo.  My life is real, yo.]  Casey decided to buy 2 big gifts for toys for tots and then we purchased donuts and coffee and went to the hospital floor where HB's dad died a year and a half ago to say thanks for making that awful time so much easier for our family.  We didn't think they would remember us or him as it had been a long time, but 2 of those nurses did and there were about 15 of us with tears in our eyes talking about the true meaning of Christmas and thankful hearts. I mean come on.  That's good stuff, right?  Not going to lie ... I felt a little defeated the very next day when Hallie was diagnosed with the real flu and I realized I had been spreading the flu instead of Christmas joy just 12 hours earlier.  AT A HOSPITAL no less!  Oops.

So the moral of this very long story is this.  You do you.  I'll do me.  And together we will live in HO-HO-harmony.  :o)