Thursday, December 6, 2012

St. Nicholas, take one


This is our family's first observance of St. Nicholas' Day. Our logical, intellectual, science-loving preschooler was about to throw all belief in the invisible out the window after seeing Santa in a mall near my mom's house at Thanksgiving. Sensing that we needed to shift the emphasis a little from the Santa question, I suggested we start celebrating this feast to honor the historical person of St. Nicholas, who was so much cooler than Santa, anyway (see Haley's excellent post on him here at Carrots for Michaelmas).

I won't go so far as to say it was a bad idea for us to do this. I just think I went about it wrong. Interested in learning from my mistakes? Here is the breakdown of what you should do if you want your St. Nicholas feast day celebration to feel like it's turning out badly:

  • Realize that you aren't sure whether to set out the shoes on the night before (St. Nicholas' Eve?) or the night of the feast. Pick the night before because you're excited. (Ignore the sneaking suspicion you may have at this point that this is about you and not about St. Nicholas or the children. A moment of self-awareness at this point could ruin all the fun.)

  • Be sure to get treats that are too big to fit into the children's tiny shoes (more because of their tiny feet than the bigness of the treats). Attempt to shove the card game into your child's shoes anyway and get frustrated when it doesn't fit. Decide to save the Santa-hat-wearing rubber ducks for the children's stockings because you hurt your hand trying to cram them into the shoes.

  • Let your child have hot chocolate at breakfast (it's a feast day, right?), then grumble at him when he's too full to really eat anything. 

  • Unsuccessfully try to read your beautiful new St. Nicholas book to your child, who will only talk about planets and runs away shouting something about nebulae when you try to change the subject. 

  • Decide to bake cookies with the child, but don't bother to double-check the ingredients (especially if you bake and generally have all that stuff). Realize that all the traditional cookie recipes for St. Nicholas' Day call for anise. (Who has that?) Decide to substitute cloves. Grumble at the child when he jumps up and down on his stool and spills flour all over everything and everyone.

  • Don't chill the dough fully because you're in a hurry to get to a playdate and you want to take fresh baked cookies along to share. Struggle to roll out sticky dough, even though you know better. When your child approaches and is chattering at you about VY Canis Majoris and how it's the biggest star and how it can burn up everything in our solar system, tell him, "Sssssshhhh!" in a very aggravated way. Feel guilty, but keep struggling with the dough.

  • Burn your hand while taking out the cookies. Say, "Awesome," in as sarcastic a voice as possible. When your child asks what is so awesome, roll your eyes at him.

  • Anger the babies while waking them up early for the playdate (for which you are already quite late). Feel frustrated with them for being fussy. Allow a small part of your brain to think they are doing it on purpose just to annoy you.

  • Realize that your celebration feels entirely uncelebratory and that it's your own fault.

My attitude needs a reset button today. I am the cause of my own frustration - it's not really about my kids or the cookies or any of it. I have an idea of how I want to celebrate the feast, and I've tried to force our day to fit it. Really, it ought to be the other way around. Really, I should start with the day I have, and then see what I can do to make it feel like a celebration.

My children are kind of grumpy today. I'm kind of grumpy, too. We're making each other grumpier. We did the shoes and the cookies. That might be all the celebrating we need to do this year.

You know what? It's okay. It's enough. Sometimes, on a day like today with little kids, you have to just cut your losses. SuperSam might remember the shoes for next year, but the girls won't remember anything - it will basically be a blank slate. So for now, instead of worrying about what kind of feasting we should be doing at dinner tonight, I'm going to take a nap. I might even end up ordering pizza and calling it a St. Nicholas' Day gift to myself.

No judgment.

Happy St. Nicholas' Day, y'all.