Today was a day I dreaded.. yet I didn’t see coming.

Today was a day I wasn’t prepared for but should’ve been.

Today was a day I had to put in my resignation letter of being Santa to my son.

Growing up for me, Christmas was purely magical. When my mom would decorate, our home became unrecognizable as it turned into a winter-wonderland. We didn’t have a lot, but she always went above and beyond making every.single.Christmas more special than the one before. She sacrificed everything she had, including pawning her jewelry and having holes in her socks, in order to give us the experiences she was neglected as a child. The memories we created with the traditions she instilled are now a part of the fabric of my being. Every Christmas, I would wake up around 2 or 3 in the morning and lay on the couch, watching the tree lights twinkle for hours. The holiday season truly has always been and will continue to be my absolute favorite time of the year.

When I became a mother, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was going to do everything I could to recreate that same magic… and I did. We had our elf on the shelf that we named Frank who caused mischief almost nightly. Every year we made the house decorating day something we could only do together…that usually included hot cocoa with snowman marshmallows with Holiday music blaring in the background.  We have a special plate and mug just for Santa. We have holiday books we read almost every night. We’d make reindeer food together and sprinkle it out in the lawn to assure they had enough to eat while Santa was bringing in the toys. The night of, I would make sparkly snow boot prints throughout the house. We would even crepe paper James in his room so in order to get out, he would have to bust through.

Seeing Christmas though the eyes of my son has not only reawakened the magic I held for the season, but truly makes me appreciate what my mother had done for my sister and I growing up. Accordingly, just as I found out the truth in 5th grade, I knew my days of playing my son’s Santa were limited. Truth be told, he really hadn’t inquired like his friends had been, so I thought we had at least another year or two. Unfortunately, I miscalculated and found that today was the day I had to turn in my Santa resignation.

*sigh*

We were pulling into the Target parking lot to look for ideas for Christmas. As I was praising myself for finding rock-star parking, James thought it was time to drop the truth-bomb question. From the back seat, I hear “Mommy…. Does Santa really exist? I mean, really.. I want the truth.” Inadvertently I squeezed my hind quarters and held my breath… then inquired why he would even ask that. He said “my friends at school tell me Santa doesn’t exist and I’m not really sure I believe anymore. Are you and Daddy the ones who wrap my presents and put them under the tree for me every year? Can you be honest?” .. And that was the moment I could baulk at his questioning, reassuring him that ‘of COURSE’ Santa existed.. or.. I could tell him the truth.

I looked at him and said, “I have a secret to tell you but will tell you after we shop.” So in we went with me having no clue how to handle the situation. I let him go search the toy aisles so he could take pictures of the toys he wanted while I roamed aimlessly, half googling how to handle this situation and the other half getting a bit emotional. To add to the situation, I had enjoyed ladies night in the night before so I wasn’t feeling my best. So here I am looking more than a bit disheveled and tearing up while wandering the among the ornaments and stockings wondering how I got here so fast.

Then I realized it wasn’t fast.. I was just in denial. It wasn’t about whether or not he was ready but purely about if I was. For the record, I..was..not.

After we put the bags in the car, we headed over to Jimmy John’s to have a grown-up conversation. I started with telling him how I have noticed how mature he is becoming, and how he has shown kindness to others. I told him that was a necessity for me to share what I was about to share with him. I explained the story of the real Saint Nicholas, of his kindness, generosity and the happiness he shared. I expanded on the spirit and how as people become adults, it becomes our responsibility to keep that spirit alive. Somehow, I navigated the conversation taking him from believing in Santa to explaining that it is now a responsibility to BE Santa. It is now our challenge to identify someone who needs hope, who needs kindness, who could benefit from generosity and happiness and be their Santa, not wanting the recognition but just to keep the spirit alive.

He wasn’t heartbroken with this discovery like I was at this age, he took it in stride. He was happy to be in on the secret and started to brainstorm on what he could do for others. (We even bought the homeless couple on the corner lunch, too.) It initiated such a mature conversation that I was proud to have with my boy. However, there was a moment of connection for him when his eyes got very large.. he paused then asked “what.. about.. the tooth fairy? Please tell me that’s not you, too?! If so, what on EARTH did you do with all of my TEETH?!”

The laughter that ensued what spontaneous and just what I needed. I found that today was a day that I wasn’t prepared for but apparently had done my job in preparing James for. It was a conversation I cautiously navigated but glad of where it took us in the end. I’m so truly proud of the young man he is becoming and really need to loosen the reigns with him. I need to allow him more space to show me who he can be as he has yet to disappoint. So with this, I bid adieu to my Santa hat and see where this new journey takes us.

… now all I can do is pray for that the sex talk isn’t on the horizon any time soon and there is only so much this momma heart can handle.

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