“It’s ‘Christmas eve’ day, it's ‘Christmas eve’ day!”

This was what I awoke to this morning when Alice (the 4 years old) excitedly announced what day it was today. She is so incredibly pumped about Christmas that it's infectious. I want to believe that Santa is real and to be honest it would be awesome if he was.

There are very few people I know who can masterfully navigate the lead up to christmas. It doesn’t matter where you are placed in life, it can be considered one of the more stressful events that we experience as a nation - well, it used to be pre-covid!

Who is hosting? Is it here or there? How many people can we fit around all of the tables we have in our house? How are we going to keep the relatives who can’t stand each other apart and more importantly keep everyone sober enough to make it through the entirety of Christmas lunch!

Being an adult during Christmas is a lot less joyful than being a kid. When I was growing up in New Zealand we had the best Christmases. I think (or hope) that most people remember their childhood christmases fondly. I was one of 9 grandkids on my Mum’s side of the family and every second year we would make our way to Christchurch so we could all be together.

On christmas morning there would be 9 pillowcases lined up, each with a hand painted Santa and our names. They would be packed with presents and once given the green light the room would explode with screams of delight caused by getting what you asked for while mountains of discarded wrapping paper started to form on the periphery of the chaos. The rest of the day was spent playing with new toys, eating way too much christmas lunch and then a friendly game of cricket or a walk on the beach.

So much work goes into a Christmas like this. The kitchen was always jammed full with all of the aunts preparing food while Elivis’s Christmas CD played on repeat. We tended to keep clear of the hustle to avoid being made to do something. All of my childhood christmases tend to blur together now. I forget if it was at Nana’s house or my cousin's place that I got the walkman. What mattered for us, especially because we lived in Wellington, was that we were all together. My mum got to hang out with her sisters, we got to hang out with our cousins and my grandparents got to enjoy all of their offspring in one spot!

I was out shopping with Frank (the 6 year old) the other day and he, very casually, mentioned that Santa’s not real. I was quite surprised by his matter of factness about this realisation so instead of agreeing or denying I asked him what made him think that. He said that magic isn’t real so santa’s sledge couldn’t actually fly, therefore santa can’t be real. Frank is a pretty smart kid and had come to this conclusion through exploring the facts about what vehicles need to be able to fly and a sledge just can’t - no engine, no propellers and we can’t travel at the speed of light (which he’d have to do given the size of the earth).

I had to think on my feet but I decided to be honest. I gently explained that Santa isn’t a real person but that doesn’t really matter because it's the idea of Christmas which is the best part. Christmas is a time when we get to spend time with our loved ones. If you're a kid, you get presents but more importantly you get to give presents to the people you care about. There is food and fun and the fact that Santa isn’t real doesn’t really change that.

I concluded our conversation by telling him that he is now in ‘the know’ and once you know the truth about Santa it becomes your responsibility (like all adults) to help the little kids (like Alice) believe that Santa is real because they are too young to understand and it would just upset them. He happily agreed, feeling somewhat empowered with his new responsibility.

I was starting to pat myself on the back having negotiated one of life’s cruel truth’s (sants not real, people die, nothing last forever) when Frank closed the conversations with

“Doesn’t matter anyway Mum, Christmas is for baby Jesus’s birthday”

Having just had the conversation we had I thought it best not to dive into why I find the immaculate conception of baby Jesus harder to believe that of jolly old Saint Nick so decided my views on religion and how babies are made was for another day perhaps.

So far Frank hasn’t told Alice that Santa isn’t real - thank goodness because it would break her heart. She gets starstruck everytime she sees Santa in real life and starts to blush and gets all shy. It will only last a few more years so we’re happy to indulge while we can. We’ll put food out for Santa and his reindeers tonight and the kids will be so excited they can’t sleep and be up before the birds tomorrow.

Whatever your plans are for tomorrow I hope you are spending them with someone or ones you love. This year we were meant to be going to NZ and Covid has canned that plan yet again. It’s been two years since I’ve seen my folks and my parents have seen the kids. With Omicron spreading throughout the country I doubt that we’ll be able to see each other till the second half of next year at earliest. I’m obviously not the only one in this boat so I’m sending out an extra squeeze to all those people who have to spend another Christmas apart.

It sucks.

We have to make the most of what we have in front of us today - kids, parents, inlaws, friends, neighbours, colleagues, anyone and everyone. x