Bayou Kidz | Some Advice from a Mother Who Has Been There, Done That (And Has the Christmas Decorations to Prove It.)

Article by Cindy G. Foust

Well, friends, here we are again. November. Which means we’ve officially entered the season of shopping till we drop, eating food we probably shouldn’t eat, and pretending we’re excited about seeing relatives who have been getting on our nerves since 1987. I’m just kidding. Well, mostly.

I don’t know about you, but I feel like we just finished Christmas. I know I say that exact same sentence at this exact same time every year. Mind you, we’ve been busy swatting mosquitoes and surviving heat waves…in October, by the way…and now we are about to pull out the tinsel and the icicles.

I’ve been writing this column for over 13 years, which means I’ve covered just about every holiday subject known to mankind. Some of my more memorable have been about gratitude, traditions, family dinners and Christmas memories. One year, I even encouraged readers to make a gratitude tree.

I’m breaking this out so you can read it again. Yes…I said a gratitude tree.

I don’t know what was going on in my life that month, but apparently, I thought everybody needed to go outside, find a branch, and hang their feelings on it. And their kids needed one, too. Somebody should have intervened. Cassie should have revoked my creativity privileges.

Anyway, this year I thought I’d do something different. Rather than tell you how to create the perfect holiday season, I’m sharing a few things I hope to have instilled in my own children as we find ourselves on the cusp of this wonderful holiday season.

Incidentally, having raised two children, I feel qualified to offer this sage advice. Whether I followed it myself is beside the point. So, buckle in.

First, you don’t have to make everything perfect.

Somewhere along the way, we decided Christmas wasn’t Christmas unless our houses look like the Ritz-Carlton, our children wear coordinating outfits, every baked good has to be Martha Stewart worthy and the family Christmas cards look like the cover of Lands End. Including, but not limited to, the kids petting a real reindeer…that’s really your dog dressed up like Rudolph.

I actually saw a video of a woman decorating her refrigerator for Christmas. I said it…her refrigerator. She had little bows on the door and shelves and greenery around the milk.

Ma’am, I am just trying to find our mayonnaise. Which is usually buried behind the 12 jars of pickles and the expired yogurt. But if decorating your refrigerator brings you joy, who am I (with 7 Christmas trees) to judge?

By the way, as I try to aimlessly make my way back to my point…I hope my children remember the laughter more than the decorations. Though those decorations were a lot of work.

Second, I hope they’ve learned that the best gifts aren’t always the biggest ones.

I have always loved watching my children open presents. Period. And while I don’t remember every gift, I remember the excitement, the wrapping paper everywhere, and somebody asking for batteries approximately four seconds after breakfast.

Maybe that’s worth telling our children: enjoy the gifts, certainly, but pay attention to the people giving them. Especially Uncle Bobby who gave us an Atari one Christmas and still ranks in the top 5 of the all-time best gifts for me and my sisters. Right in front of the organ Bitsy gave me, and that’s another column when I am discussing musical gifts you shouldn’t buy people who have no musical talent. But I digress.

Third, I hope kindness becomes part of their holiday plans without anybody having to make a production out of it.

When children are little, it’s natural for Christmas to feel like the greatest show on earth, starring them. Watching that excitement is half the fun. I treasure those mornings. Especially the year Angel Grace got the little dog (Annie Lou Foust…welcome home) of her dreams.

But there’s something lovely about seeing a child discover the fun of giving, too. Choosing a present for a grandparent. Taking cookies to a neighbor. Making room for someone who might otherwise spend the day alone.

And here’s a thought: we can do some of those things without posting seventeen photographs and a caption announcing that our hearts are full. Sometimes a kind deed can just be a kind deed.

Fourth, I hope they keep taking the family pictures.

I don’t know what it is about family photographs that turns otherwise reasonable people into shoppers who’ve just discovered the only checkout lane open is the self-checkout.

I admit, back in the day when I actually took Christmas pictures, I used to worry about getting everybody to look just right, matching or coordinated outfits for sure. Now I’d be perfectly happy with a picture of all of us laid out on the couch watching football and dozing between quarters, full as a tick. That’s a direct quote from Big Daddy and I’m wondering if I should say that in my column? At the same time, I am a Southern columnist…if I can’t say “full as a tick,” here, where CAN I say it?

Fifth, I hope they remember that the holidays can be complicated for some people.

Sigh. This one is especially close to my heart this year, as our family faces the holidays without our Papa, whom we lost in September. There’s something about an empty chair at a holiday table that makes you realize how much a person filled a room.

I’ve learned, however, that joy and grief can sit at the same table. Sometimes they even share the dressing and cranberry sauce. And children learn by watching us. When we invite someone in, make a phone call, or remember a loved one by name, we’re showing them what kindness looks like. Sometimes being there is enough.

Sixth, I hope they understand that memories have a mind of their own.

When my children were little, I planned activities, decorated, cooked, organized, and generally behaved as though the holidays were a major sporting event and I was the head coach. I think I even had a clipboard, with all my plans and schedules.

It took me a while to figure out that you can spend hundreds of dollars taking children somewhere wonderful, and they’ll announce that their favorite part was the vending machine at the hotel. Or you can prepare a beautiful meal, and somebody will ask for macaroni and cheese from a box.

I bet if you asked them, what they remember is laughing, cousins piled together, familiar stories, and the fireworks Uncle Bobby took us to buy. Things nobody put on the dang clipboard.

Finally, I hope they know there’s always room for one more person at the table.

Families grow and change. Children marry, babies arrive, schedules become complicated enough to require a spreadsheet. Sometimes traditions have to bend a little. Sometimes the people we wish were with us cannot be.

I’ve come to believe that the holidays aren’t about keeping everything exactly the way it used to be. They’re about loving the people in front of us, remembering the people we miss, and finding a little joy in whatever this year’s gathering looks like.

So, if my children take anything from all those years of holiday fussing, I hope it’s this: call somebody. Hug somebody. Laugh when things go sideways. Take the picture, even if somebody blinks. And never underestimate what a simple invitation can mean.

Someday, the ordinary moments may be the ones we wish we could have back. Agree? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go supervise Scott while he gets the Christmas decorations out of the attic. Because apparently, seven Christmas trees don’t put themselves up.

Happy holidays, readers. Thank you for sticking by me for over 13 years…grateful trees and all.