Traditional
In my growing up years my family had a tradition of going carolling for the twelve days prior to Christmas. In my memory this tradition has been imbuded with a soft glow as I remember all the wonderful postcard moments it provided. I’ve been really looking forward to sharing this tradition with my kids this year. My first hint that my plan was going awry came when both Gleek and Link declared that they didn’t even want to go. Then I had to decide whether to require them to participate because I believe they’ll love it when they try it, or whether to allow them to stay home. Remembering my realization that I can’t make Howard love my traditions, I realized that I can’t make my kids love them either. I had to allow them to stay home if they wanted to.
We hadn’t even exited the house and my kids had already departed from my script for this event. When they saw everyone else getting ready to go, both Gleek and Link relented and decided to go along. I was glad. But then my children refused to walk politely. Instead there was running and trompling in the yards of other people. Gleek insisted that she bring along a huge stuffed sheep which she then got tired of carrying, so I had to lug it. Link had a hurt foot which he kept half out of his shoe. This meant that his shoe kept falling off. Kiki decided that snitching santa hats from everyone was a fun game. Patches got tired and had to be carried. Then there was the screaming incident of Who Gets To Hold Which Star. None of that was soft or glowy. It was all grumpy. By the time we started back home I was ready to cry over the failure of this attempt at tradition sharing.
Then the walk home was peaceful and the Christmas lights were beautiful. During that walk something went click in my head. All the soft glow was stripped from my carolling memories and suddenly I remembered all the squabbles I had with my siblings during the course of carolling. The squabbling moments were as frequent if not more frequent than the soft glowy moments. My kids weren’t the ones who had it wrong, I was. The squabbles and lost shoes and tired legs were all much more in line with my childhood experiences than with the script I’d created in my head. The script in my head was fiction and if I continued to expect everyone else to try to match it, I was only going to be further disappointed.
Tonight we’re going carollingagain. Some of the kids my choose to stay home with Howard. There will probably be quarrels. There might be lost shoes or skinned knees. But I’m going to love it for what it is rather than trying to make it be what it never was.