See, if I had kids of my own I'd be tempted to come up with a totally new tradition. Like how every year, Acting Secretary of Agriculture Charles F. Conner stocks his briefcase with presents that he brings to all the good children of North America....

Ok - this conversation has me thinking why do I keep up with the Santa gifts and such.

To me, it is the spirit of the season. Giving. It is my chance to step away from being mom, wife, daughter, friend, whatever and give anonymously. Since each family member (except CJ at the moment) contributes to the stockings and any Santa gifts, it is often hard to tell who chose what for whom...(yes, organizing this is a PIA).

But the bottom line is that I'm not looking for personal recognition or thanks for finding that special something. Seeing their smiles is enough.

Andi and I were supposed to have all of next week off.

Five people have quit at the helpdesk in recent weeks.

I'll have three days off with Andi next week.

Only one will be a paid vacation day. I had to give up my usual biweekly sunday off to have the three days grouped together next week.

I may need a better job.

I'd settle for better pay. And better benefits.

No bad mouthing the fat man.

I know I've mentioned this before -- my mom, Demi-Goddess of Whimsy, still labels all the gifts as being from Santa, the Fat Man, Fat Elf, etc. Sometimes the label will match the gift, like a bottle of wine of from Drunken Elf.

And when she e-mails me to ask for my Xmas list, she always, ALWAYS says that it's so she can pass it on to Santa (who she calls "Channey," which is from her bastardized pronunciation of Santa Claus as "Channey Chaus," also referred to as Chanster, Chan-Man, etc. [Like I've said before, she bestows at least 5 nicknames on EVERYONE. Even the dog. Even Santa Claus.]).

And on Christmas morning* she always woke us up with "Get up! The Fat Man's been here!" (To which my brother replied, "Chef Paul Prudhomme?")

*(This will be -- literally -- the first Christmas of my LIFE that I won't wake up in my mom's house. Which, even though I'm 36, is kind of sad. But mostly, I want to wake up on Christmas morning next to The Boy. Which more than makes up for the sad.)

But mostly, I want to wake up on Christmas morning next to The Boy

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Tomorrow is THE DAY...right?

Tomorrow is THE DAY...right?

God willing, in literally 24 hours, all my shit will be out of this apartment. (Well, it has to be, or the apartment management may get cranky and vengeful.)

But mostly, I want to wake up on Christmas morning next to The Boy

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Seriously, this packing is sucking SO HARD, but then I stop and picture coming home every day to The Boy, or going to bed every night with him, or having breakfast (or coffee) every morning with him, and it makes the packing worth it.

Still sucks, but worth it.

A few years ago, Joe and I were at his brother's house for Christmas and his brother brought their 3 year old daughter down stairs and was showing her "these are the cookies Santa ate, this is the chimney he came down" and so on. I wouldn't mind if Ellie came to her own conclusion that there was a Santa, but it bothered me the way BIL was trying so hard to make his daughter believe in something that wasn't true.

I like the idea of preserving the magic of Santa and treating the revelation that Santa isn't real as an initiation into the adult side of maintaining the magic for the children.

I like this - I'm just not sure how you get there without feeling like you are deceiving them. There's no "wink" with a 2 or 3 year old. I guess I'm just trying to figure out how kids come to believe in Santa in the first place.

As a side note, as a Christian, it's important to me that Ellie understand that in our family, the story of Jesus' birth is not a fairy tale. How does she differentiate between a fun story her parents tell her for the magic of it and a religious tradition that we believe is grounded in truth?

Like I've said before, she bestows at least 5 nicknames on EVERYONE. Even the dog. Even Santa Claus.]

THAT'S why she kept calling me "Steve-o-rino"...

*(This will be -- literally -- the first Christmas of my LIFE that I won't wake up in my mom's house. Which, even though I'm 36, is kind of sad. But mostly, I want to wake up on Christmas morning next to The Boy. Which more than makes up for the sad.)

This was me last Christmas, and I think my mother is still sad that she can't surprise me with my gifts first thing Christmas morning. In our house, gifts from Mom were wrapped and gifts from Santa were unwrapped.

Sometimes the label will match the gift, like a bottle of wine of from Drunken Elf.

It's nice that Drunken Elf is not so much of an alcoholic that he keeps all the booze to himself....