Santa’s Sweat Shop

It’s no secret that I hate the holidays. I have tried to celebrate them. My favorite holiday character is Scrooge; unlike him, I don’t have the ghosts of
Christmas past, present, or future to help me see the error of my
ways. I am so over the “God bless us every one,” I want to take Tiny
Tim’s crutch and knock him over the head with it.

We try desperately to hold on to the Christmas holiday traditions that
have been successfully preserved and embedded into our minds. We don’t
question the rather questionable customs. With Halloween, the
inevitable dangers are so widespread that we now have our candy
x-rayed and pedophiles have had their trick-or-treating rights
revoked.

Conversely, Christmas has remained unchanged with our ever-changing
times. Do we feel that Santa Claus is an acceptable holiday icon for
the children of today? He’s a really old man, who has no children of
his own, but loves kids so much he has spent countless years
overlooking poor little elves frantically slaving away as they make
toys for the Santa following children of the world. He is welcome into
your homes. If you think about it, Santa really fit’s the
stereotypical profile of a child molester. What parent would let their
child desire the attention of a grown man who has no children and a
never-ending supply of gifts and candy? (Michael Jackson) I would be
skeptical.

I just think it’s confusing. We teach children not to take candy from
strangers… with Santa being an exception. We still lug our kids to
the mall for the traditional sitting on Santa’s lap photo-op. I have
seen so many trembling babies being forced to sit on Santa’s lap so
mom and dad can capture the perfect moment of Baby’s First Christmas.
But all the babies are crying hysterically! They don’t want to sit on
some strange man’s lap! Still, you convince your kids to pose for
pictures. It’s traumatizing.

Santa is never ever liked at first glance – we have to teach kids
that he gives candy and presents, and then they love him. Is Santa
the foundation for all of the greed and excess in our
consumer-thriving, uncaring economy? He gets all the thanks and
gratitude while most people are still paying off last year’s holiday
generosity. We do it to ourselves.

Poof! You’re A Parent

I got married when I was 16. I wasn’t ready for the instant upgrade from teenager to adult. It was like saying, “I’m an adult now!” miraculously made me one. I had to grow into the role just like everyone else. I was terrified at the thought that I had assumed the identity of an adult through the simple act of signing a piece of paper.

It took several months to view myself as a wife. I was reminded that I was married throughout the day because my wedding band would make my skin sweat as it pressed against the folds of my fingers, irritating the webs of my hands. I needed to dry and readjust the band several times a day. I would be annoyed, and say, “What the heck is bugging me? Oh yeah, I’m married.” The ring’s symbolic meaning changed over the duration of my marriage. It originally reminded me of happiness, love, and commitment; surprisingly, that ring became a binding reminder of my discontent, and realizations that we didn‘t love each other enough. This is why I will never put another ring on my finger.

A relationship is a choice, not an obligation.

After I left my husband, it took some time to not feel married. It was a weird thing to take the wedding band off my finger knowing that I would never put it back on. I had emotionally severed myself from my husband and was resolved in my decision to no longer honor my marriage. I was done!! But I still found myself wrapping my right hands fingers over my left to adjust a ring that was no longer there. Reminding myself, “Oh, I’m divorced,” it was funny to me that I was using the same method to get comfortable with my new socially contemporary title of divorcée.

Fast forward a few months. Now that I’m remarried, I find myself confronted with a whole new set of titles that my mind needs to catch up to. When someone asks me about my husband, I have this puzzling mental image of my ex. It’s not something I stress over — it’s more of a funny-how-the-mind-works kind of feeling. I just know it’s going to take some time to habituate my life.

The tension-filled disapproval of my marital status has been weird. This marriage is both mine and my new husband’s second marriage. For some reason, all of the people who oppose find comfort in not accepting the fact that we are legally wed.

I had to take a step back and think about the possible reasons people choose not take our marriage seriously. It became clearer to me that people have individual grieving and healing processes. I was done with my marriage the second I turned off the front porch lights of my house locked the door and closed it behind me. It symbolized closing an old, dormant chapter in the book of my life, and helped me move on. Not everyone works the way I do.

For a lot of people we still belong to our exes, and it hurts when the mind reminds them that we aren’t. I am sensitive to the pain we caused but I also know it was deservingly just. Remember:

a relationship is a choice not an obligation.

Another thing I am facing is the flip-flopping status of my “stepparent-ness.” People on “Team Us” are calling me a mother, and everyone else says I’m playing house. I want to make it clear that I do not feel like a parent. When people call me “Mom” I can’t help but feel annoyed. My mind hasn’t caught up yet, and I’m not really sure what role I feel comfortable playing in their lives. I am a stepparent by virtue of my status (regardless of preparation), but just like being told I’m an adult (before I was ready) it doesn’t make me one. I need to grow into the role.