Faking It

The past few days I have been in "fake it til you're festive" mode. Usually bursting with holiday spirit, I'm just not feeling overwhelmingly jolly this year. I suspect that waiting for test results for Timmy's autoimmune issues is beginning to wear on my spirits. I jump every time the phone rings, anxious for the doctor to call with information. I find myself looking at the calendar with more annoyance that doctors offices will be closed than with joy that the holidays are upon us. Living in diagnosis limbo is draining!

 

I am also fairly certain that Robby no longer believes in Santa Claus. The fact that he now refers to him with air quotes was a strong indicator, but he is such a sweet kid that he will probably never verbalize his discovery. I fully anticipate his playing along indefinitely for fear of hurting my feelings. Knowing that he no longer fully believes in the magic of Santa saddens me because it is another hallmark of growing up.

Timmy is too young to appreciate Santa. Right now he grabs me with a death clutch and buries his face whenever he hears jingle bells and "ho ho ho-ing." I think that next year he'll fully embrace the magic, but this year he will probably have nightmares thinking about the scary man in red slithering down the chimney in the middle of the night. 

Decorations this year are kept to a minimum, partly because I just haven't been motivated to schlep up the boxes and put them out but also because I know that many of my treasures would be ruined by my little toddler tornado. Right now, everything is safer packed away in boxes in the garage. We have our short chubby tree, brightly adorned with 1500 little lights but no ornaments. Since nobody in the house has noticed the undecorated tree,  I'm not going to the effort of digging through the boxes for our unbreakable ornaments. This year we are having a minimalist Christmas, and this year I'm embracing that it is enough.