I've said it before, I have a love/hate relationship with Christmas. Maybe that's why it's taken me so long to actually get around to writing about our Christmases. Yes, plural. We had many this year, but I'm really only writing about two of them.
We are once again in sunny Florida for Christmas, but this year is a bit different. This year, the kids asked Santa to deliver the gifts to our house. He surprised them by making a stop here as well as our house with their stockings. Amazingly, the kids actually picked Christmas morning to sleep in a bit. By sleep in, I mean 7:40, but I'll take it. When they came out, there were a few presents from Mommy and Daddy and Grandpa and their stockings. Know what? They didn't even care. They came out and completely ignored the sad, little pile of gifts of on the table as well as not even noticing their stockings magically made it to Florida from where they hung when they walked out the door in Ohio. That moment made me proud and frustrated on so many levels. It frustrated me because of me, not them.
When we got home, the guilt hit once more. Santa had come to our house, just like his note said. Though under the tree was not piled high with gifts, my kids were once again so excited and happy. They each got exactly what they wanted, no more, no less. Sunshine got a "big girl" scooter like her brother's, but pink, of course. She got Ana and Elsa dolls and the puppy purse she asked for. Monster got the last two books in the Lightening Thief series and two spy kits that he had seen months before and really liked. He was pretty excited Santa knew those were the ones he wanted (his list consisted of books, spy kit, "whatever else you would like to bring me"). Then Mommy and Daddy surprised them each with Nerf guns. The guns are whole different post though....
If you are counting, that bring the grand total of gifts for each child up to 8. Half of Monster's gifts were literally books. One of each of the gifts they received were actually games to share and play together. Realizing this had my guilt creeping in again. There was this feeling that they were being let down. Then, I looked at my kids. I mean really looked at them. Know what? They were happy. I was the only one feeling bad. They were so please with what they got. They didn't need, or want, more.