So lets let the cat out of the bag. We don’t do Santa here. I know! My poor children. Not that we don’t LOVE Santa. Why, Santa is just as loved around here as Dora the Explorer and her banana eating monkey. Vamanos!
But really. We adore Christmas here. We watch all the movies, sing all the songs, decorate the house and go out looking at all the other lit houses. We do not tell our kids he is a real man. Mommy and Daddy buy the gifts. We even like going to see the mall Santa, just the way we like seeing Bugs Bunny at six flags. But no, we do not believe in Santa. People tend to get shocked by moms like myself who kill all Christmas spirit and joy with this dreadful honesty. Like we go out of our ways to break random children’s candy canes and chase down street Santa’s with our minivans. What they don’t see is that I spend 80% of my time at home joyfully singing Christmas songs with my kids. That I love cuddling up with them for the original claymation holiday specials, that my kids and I bake Christmas cookies and make snowflake crafts. Our Christmas isn’t missing a drop of love and closeness. No one is deprived of joy and merriment. On Christmas morning my kids mouths still drop open at the sight of their gifts under the decorated, lit-up tree, while they rub the sleep out of their eyes, wearing new cuddly Christmas pajamas that they were given the night before.
Mothers tell me often about their own horror and anger when they discovered that Santa wasn’t real or when their child found out Santa wasn’t real. I personally feel that it’s misguided anger at having been lied to for years and made to believe that some supernatural phenomenon was happening as they slept that never happened. Those moms think that my kids will feel that anger always because I never told them this lie but they don’t know that I myself was raised in a house that didn’t treat Santa as a real man. I never once experienced anger and have absolutely no negative memories or feelings about Santa or being told anything about Santa. I understood others did believe in him and respected their families decision to tell them that and kept my truths to myself. But I never felt anger. I actually felt like I was in on something that others should know too and felt bad that they were being tricked when I just got to have fun and enjoy it all and know it would never become an upsetting issue or event in my life.
For me, part of being an AP mom and part of being a Christian means telling the truth to my kids. I don’t want to spend 5-10 years lying about things to my children that they could have enjoyed just as much without the lie. That means Christmas and Easter and tooth fairies. If I don’t believe with my heart it’s true, I don’t speak it with my mouth to them. If anything, I want my kids to know without a shadow of a doubt that I have been truthful with them and honest.
Our Christmas and Easter and all our other little occasions are still amazing and loving and joyous, as they should be, without sacrificing truth.
Want to know about another family who doesnt do traditional Santa? Check out The Feminist Breeder