I confess. I've been grinch all my life. And when my son was born, I thought that Christmas would not celebrate him, nothing, or the least because he didn't dislike the family too much. But the illusion of a child is contagious and Christmas really has magic if you live it with his eyes. So if you are one of those who just think that these holidays arrive you are sulking, I will tell you the things that I really enjoyed with my son despite being a grinch mom.
The Bethlehem
I love doing dioramas. Y I love nativity scenes. We have done Westeros with playmobil occupying the whole room. We have depicted medieval battle battles with Slcheich figurines. We have created Jurassic Park with dinosaurs and all kinds of accessories. But, let's face it, the variety of plants, houses, lights, creeks, ferris wheels, shops, food and figures of the Judea from year zero are impressive. I had a great time buying figurines and doing alternative nativity scenes too.
Artificial moss, dirt roads, cork mountains, the Roman castle, the bakery, the woman of the geese, the fishermen, the shepherds warming themselves around the fire, the impossible snow, the colored lights. Animals, reeds, food baskets, are beautiful.
Every year visiting the Plaza Mayor of Madrid with its stalls, expanding the collection, designing the geographical space, putting the bridges, seeing the water coming out of the fountain, has been something very fun that I now remember with true affection. I love Bethlehem and I even like to disassemble it a month later.
The three wise men
There are those who hate Christmas mythology related to gifts, and states that it is a lie that manipulates children. Some people, with respectful posture, decide at home not to tell this story but respect the way in which others decide to send the gifts to the children. Some people are horrified by Christmas consumerism and come to reject something as human as giving gifts to people they want on a special date or are overwhelmed by an obligation extended to adults in their circle. And there are those who get excited about the fantasy of a magical arrival of gifts that excites children and gets carried away by it.
I went from one thing to another until it was, my son, who told me the joy of opening packages, nervous waiting, the ritual of bread and water for camels. And he also knew that all children are good.
And, as a child, the arrival of the Magi It was the most special night of the year and the subsequent discovery of humanity of this magic did not seem misleading, but metaphorical. My son lived it that way. He loves to go to bed nervously and wake up at dawn to go down to the living room and discover so many packages with his greatest wishes.
The child's own emotional and rational evolution was what made him discover the practical inconsistencies of history: the black painted king, the false kings of the shopping centers, the ubiquity of the parades, the temporary impossibility of visiting all the houses in the world . And when he asked, finally, it seemed so beautiful that his parents and grandparents had done the magic possible and spoiled him so I never saw so much magic in his eyes, the magic of love, as at that time.
Now it is a Christmas page. Tonight he is at his grandparents' house preparing the biggest Bethlehem I have ever seen and he is going to buy his cousin's gifts with joy waiting for the morning in which the children's eyes will open so much and will be filled with illusion.
Family reunions
I was tired of those long family gatherings in which you share a table and conversation with some characters that you preferred not to see and in which the tension was palpated in the air that I wanted to stop going, to have some excuse. Until my son taught me how special it was for him to have us all together, including those relatives whom we didn't see during the year. They do not realize our resistance if we do not express them, it is enough for them that day to feel a special warmth, to be the center of attention, to eat very rich things prepared with love, candles and grapes and everything that surrounds those nights of party.
The things I kept being grinch in
But, despite having dazzled the illuminated trees, the gifts, putting the tree every year more ornate, riding the Bethlehem and even going cold in the Three Kings Parade there are things that I kept finding unbearable and that made me keep my grinch mom spirit.
The butt shops with a hellish little musician that looks like Christmas carols but you can't even identify with so much background noise and the heat it makes. Not that I wanted to go, but in the end, I always had to accompany someone who was very lost and asked for advice on their purchases. I hated it.
The Christmas school functions, which made parents so excited they seemed like a stage torture without much meaning. Don't hate me for that, please. The theatrical preparation I suppose that you cannot demand it, but the one that programs the performances of twelve classes of Infantile that rub the disaster of truth that I did not understand that they contributed or that illusion could do. Especially for the costumes, which neither wanted to spend my money nor to hire a seamstress I had.
I remember how long they became, soporific, absurd. I didn't see how emotional it was to get children to bellow an English carol sweating and pushing, neither educational nor artistic. I'm sorry, but I found them horrendous and I still hate them. If you want to set up a children's function, do one a year and do it well. But I respect who they like, of course, although there should be more choice about whether you want your child to spend hours preparing that or not.
Firecrackers, beeps and drunks of those who don't get rid of you if you don't live in a cave on top of a mountain. I do not get it. They are not funny, they are not respectful and they are a lousy example of what it is to have fun or celebrate. And especially when you're a mother, you don't see any justification for those behaviors that scare or can harm your children. Even if it's Christmas.
And finally, as good mom grinch I hate Santa. And there I did not pass.
