Dear Avery -- is Santa real?

Dear Avery,

We are in the height of the Christmas season. Our house is filled to the brim with green and red and sparkles and lights.  We have made cookies and gingerbread houses and ornaments and crafts. We have stamped, addressed and mailed our cards. We have sung Jingle Bells at the top of our lungs. We have read all of the Christmas classics and have watched all of the movies -- at least twice. The gifts are wrapped. The groceries are sitting in the fridge ready to go. Nana and Papa will be here tomorrow morning. Christmas is two days away.

A few weeks ago you told me that you really wanted to believe in Santa but your gut said no. I was able to skirt around the issue and leave it with "well, what do you believe?" and then seamlessly changed the subject to something less risky like magic tricks and rainbows. I sighed a big silent sigh of relief and thought to myself, "phew...that was a close one." I thought your doubt had been cleared. I thought it was over. You went right back to writing your list and searching for Elmer and all of the other magical things that come with Christmas to a 7-year-old.

Yesterday Tyler was on a playdate, and you and I were hanging out in the kitchen having a snack. Out of the blue you looked up at me with your big brown curious eyes, and you said, "Mom, are you Santa?"

My heart sunk into my stomach. I was not expecting this. I have always told myself that I will never straight-up lie to you. Daddy and I have been honest and open with many of your grown-up questions along the way...9/11 and the Boston Marathon and Sandy Hook...and even childbirth.

But this one felt different. You are still my baby. You are only seven. You are in the FIRST grade. And CHRISTMAS IS IN TWO DAYS!!!!

You had me cornered. You begged me to tell you the truth. You promised you wouldn't tell anyone. You even accused me of smirking -- when really I was just too stunned to say a thing. I wanted to cry. I wanted to freeze time and figure out the right thing to say to you. I wanted to phone a friend. I wanted to strangle the parent of the kid who told you there was no such thing. I wanted to go back in time to when you were four.

But in the end I did what I had to do. I said, "No, absolutely not" with the straightest face I could muster. I told you my smirk was because I thought it was hilarious that you could even think that dad and I would have enough money for all those presents. I promised you over and over that Santa is real and that he is not me.

And after taking a few hours to process, I am sure I did the right thing. I didn't lie to you. I am not Santa. Santa is far bigger than me. Santa is magic and innocence and imagination. He is kindness and generosity and compassion. Santa is the anonymous person who paid off all of the lay-away items at Toys-R-us for the 3rd year in a row. Santa is the man standing outside of Market Basket in the cold ringing the bell to collect money for the Salvation Army. Santa is the lady passing out hats and scarves to all of the homeless people in Boston. Santa is you and your brother when you secretly drop off your "pay it forward" bags all over town each year.

Santa is the belief that goodness still exists in this world...even with the horrors like 9/11, the Boston Marathon and Sandy Hook. Santa is the belief that small acts of kindness can actually make the world a better place. Santa is the belief that YOU have the power to make this world a better place.

So, no honey, I alone am not Santa. We are all Santa. And no matter how old I get, I will always believe.

Some day I hope you thank me for responding to you the way I did. Maybe you'll even see it as the great gift that it was...the gift of being a child. I promise you, another year of the big man in the red suit will do you no harm. You're seven. Enjoy the magic. Merry Christmas.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Avery & Tyler -- wealth

Dear Avery & Tyler,

Yesterday we kicked off Hanukkah with our annual Jacobs family party in South Dartmouth. Tyler, you loved playing football with your big cousins. And Avery, you and Hadley had so much fun with your American Girl Dolls.

My cousin Wendy was there. I love her dearly and always have. She and I grew up close. We played together like sisters at every family party, just like you do with your cousins. She and I have climbed Mt. Washington together several times, we have jumped into freezing cold lakes with our sports bras and underwear, we have shared the horror stories of first dates...and the joy of our wedding days.

Wendy is bubbly, hilarious, loving and beautiful. She is also rich. Not just a little rich. She is filthy, filthy rich. She had a conversation with her mother yesterday that I couldn't help but overhear. I was, after all, squished right next to them on the couch. Apparently she is in the process of building a new home (her 4th to be exact) and apparently it is costing her more than 5 million dollars.

I can't begin to imagine what 5 million dollars even looks like, nor do I really want to. I actually had to get up and walk outside. She may have mistaken my abrupt exit as some sort of jealousy, and that's fine if she did. But I want to be clear with the two of you. Jealousy was not the culprit. Not at all. It was the opposite actually. I feel bad for her. She thinks that yachts and trips around the world and $5 million dollar houses are the things that are going to make her happy in life. But they never will.

She will never be a mother. She will never look down at a tiny infant and know the true definition of love at first sight. She will never stare into the eyes of her little girl and see herself staring back. She will never be asked by a 6-year-old boy to meet her under the mistletoe. She will never be the most beautiful person in the entire world. She will never be loved as sweetly and purely and enormously as a child loves his mother. And she will never get to love anyone that enormously either.

She may have money and she may have things, but in the big picture of life, what does she have that really matters?

Last night after you were both sound asleep tucked cozy into your beds, I lay down with each of you and whispered into your ear, "I would never trade this life for anything."

I am the wealthiest woman in the world.

"I did it all
I owned every second that this world could give
I saw so many places, the things that I did
With every broken bone, I swear I lived
I hope you spend your days and they all add up
And when that sun goes down
I hope you raise your cup..."

Love,
Mom

Letter from Santa

Dear Avery & Tyler,

Merry Christmas! The elves and I are very busy getting ready for Christmas, and I’m really excited that we’ll be visiting your home in Norfolk, MA.

I’ve been making a list and checking it twice, and it says you you’ve both been nice! I’m very proud of both of you. I like bringing toys to children who are kind to others, listen to their parents and do their best in school. I can’t promise that you’ll get everything you asked for, but I’m positive there will be a few presents from me under the tree and that your stockings will be full!

Please remember, though, that Christmas is not about how many presents are under the tree. There are so many children in this world who are not fortunate enough to have clean clothes, a cozy bed or enough food to fill their bellies. I will be working very hard this year to bring more toys to those who have none. I know you are old enough now to understand, and I know you will be appreciative. The true spirit of Christmas is giving…not getting. Remember that!

Christmas is also about family and friends and all the great people and blessings you have in your life. These are the most important things to celebrate. As long as you have love surrounding you, that’s worth more than all the toys in the world. 

Have a very merry Christmas!

Santa Claus
P.S. Your house is one of my first stops this year so be sure to go to bed early. The magic only works if you’re sleeping!

A letter to your dad -- Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 2015

Dear Phil,

I am thankful for our home. As much as I complain about our stupid cabinets and our tiny ugly bathrooms, I am grateful for the roof over our head and the backyard we can call our own. Mostly though, I am thankful for the noises that fill it. I am thankful for the laughter, the giggles, the squeals of delight. I am thankful for the whispered conversations between our children as they drift off to sleep. I am thankful for their never-ending questions…for their curiosity and daily evidence of learning and growing. I am even thankful for the arguments, the screaming, the crying, the stomping. A silent house is an empty one. I am thankful that we have filled ours with life…and all it’s glory.

I am thankful for my job. As much as I complain about the politics of teaching, when I step into the confines of those 4 walls of my little classroom, I get to do what I love. I get to do what inspires me, and I get to inspire others. I get to put my little stamp on this world and be somebody. Not everyone is so lucky.

I am thankful for your job. I know that you hate it. And I really hate that you hate it. But I am thankful that you can hate something and still get paid well for doing it. I am thankful that we have enough money for that roof over our head. As much as this roller coaster has been bumpy and tough, I am thankful for it. I know we will look back on it one day and realize we came out of it a hell of a lot stronger than we went in. It’s only a matter of time.

I am thankful for your parents and for mine. I am thankful that our children have six grandparents who love them so unconditionally. I am thankful for each of their unique gifts and own special ways of expressing generosity. I am thankful for the cousins our children get to grow up with. I am also thankful for the ones that they can’t grow up with. They have offered a perspective of the world our children wouldn’t have otherwise seen. They have made them wiser, more compassionate, more thoughtful, more understanding.

I am thankful for the grandparents that I lost. Even though my grief over the last year or so has broken my heart and turned me inside out, I am thankful for the experience that has left me stronger and more appreciative. I am thankful for all the years I did have and for all the gifts they left me with.

I am thankful for our health. I take it for granted, I know. Every time I mutter the words, “why does everything have to be so hard,” I am shamed even before they finish coming out of my mouth. I know things could be SO much harder. SO MUCH HARDER. As much as I complain about the never-ending laundry, I am thankful that our children are healthy enough to play outside and get dirty. I am thankful that they keep growing.

More than anything, though, I am thankful for you. I am thankful for your love, your devotion, your sense of humor and your forgiveness. Raising children is the biggest, most important job of our lives. We haven’t done it perfectly. But when I see our children playing gently with their baby cousin or hugging their great-aunt or thanking their grandparents or delivering the Thanksgiving speech or cuddling with their daddy on the couch, I know that we are doing it well.  We are raising good, confident, solid people. Nothing about it is easy, but I am so grateful to be doing it all with you by my side.

With every sigh of frustration or roll of my eyes, I know deep down I am lucky. Beneath all of it, I am thankful. Always.

I love you,

Andra