The holidays are over. The lights are unplugged. The snowman sweaters have been folded and returned to the far corner of the closet. Now that it’s all done, I can’t help but reflect on a subtle, yet significant difference I’ve noticed between my family and in-laws.
My family hugs. The Wife’s family shakes.
It’s small thing, but it’s particularly observable around the holidays. In my family, everyone is greeted with a hug. There are a few exceptions, of course. Namely, the uncle who just never seems comfortable, and the old man who still thinks hugging is a “bedroom activity.” But for the most part, all of my cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and close family friends are given hugs as they enter or leave a party. A small kiss on the cheek usually accompanies the hug when the exchange is between a male and female.
On the other side of the family, a handshake is the standard greeting. There are a few exceptions here too. Namely, my mother-in-law and father-in-law have become huggers (mostly through my influence). The Wife’s grandma looks forward to a hug and kiss on the cheek, as well as two of her aunts. But for the most part, all of her cousins, aunts, uncles and close family friends are greeted with a handshake or head nod.
The problem is that I often forget this distinction when visiting her family during the holidays. I go in for a hug, and the recipient’s face contorts with a look of surprise and horror. It makes for an awkward exchange.
Another distinction made obvious around the holidays is the obligatory greeting and farewell. In my family, everyone is expected to go around the room and greet everyone with a hug as they arrive at the party. This ritual is then repeated as guests leave the party. This makes arriving and departing quite an ordeal, but it would appear rude if either of these two mandated steps were skipped.
The Wife’s family is a bit larger than mine. Perhaps that’s why the mandatory greeting and farewell rule doesn’t apply. However, I always feel awkward entering or leaving a party without somehow acknowledging everyone in attendance. Sometimes, I say “good-bye” to people I never even greeted with a “hello.”
I’m not suggesting that my way is better or worse than that of the in-laws. It’s just one of those subtle differences that becomes obvious during the holidays.
Last month, I interviewed Genevieve Theirs. She’s the founder and CEO of Sittercity.com - a Web site dedicated to bringing parents and qualified, local babysitters together. Most of the interview focused on the pay scale for babysitters.
I was shocked when she suggested I should pay my babysitter $12.75 per hour. I thought $8 per hour was generous.
Regardless, I also asked Genevieve about gift giving for babysitters. This question was inspired by my own babysitter, who made candy bags for my two sons on Halloween and bought presents for their birthdays. I asked “the self-proclaimed babysitter expert” if this meant I needed to reciprocate the gift giving for Christmas.
The answer was a simple, “Yes!” In fact, she suggested that anyone with a regular babysitter needs to give a gift. Even if Christmas isn’t your thing, think of the gift as an end-of-the-year bonus, Genevieve said.
The best gift is cash. Skip the gift cards, poinsettias and holiday sweaters, Genevieve said. As far as the amount, she suggested a full week’s pay. My babysitter watches the boys once a week for about four hours. The total comes out to about $40, so this week I handed over an extra $40 as a bonus.
And that’s not all. Genevieve also suggested giving babysitters an annual bump in pay. If they were working any other job, they’d expect some sort of yearly bump in salary.
This seems like a lot of cash going out the door. I was actually considering skipping the bonus this year. Then when I went to pick up the boys, the babysitter had wrapped Christmas gifts for them. I dug into my wallet, and handed over the extra $40.
It was well deserved.
I was going to write about how you (and I) can deal with complaints we hear from the kids every year about Christmas presents (or lack of), but I decided to focus on the positive.
I was in a local discount department store recently looking to see if any of their items had been “deeply discounted” yet when an older woman who was using the cart as a walker (good idea; my mom does that, too) stepped between me and the shelf I was studying. She would glance down at her list and up at the shelves and then down at her list again.
“With these kind of prices, I don’t know how anyone can afford Christmas,” she said. I am pretty sure it was directed at me because she was standing so close to me. “That’s for sure,” I replied.
The words stuck with me not because it was so obvious she had not been in a toy section in a while, but because Christmas is free. Christmas doesn’t cost anything. The meaning of Christmas has been translated to stuff.
I decided not to break into a lecture in the middle of the store because I was in a hurry.
So on my way out to the parking lot (yes, empty-handed), I repeated her line in my mind and interpreted it as, with these prices, she didn’t know how anyone can afford to buy toys and stuff for kids, especially not the exact ones the children want.
Why does it always have to be about the presents?
My husband and I both grew up in big families, but we didn’t know each other then. We didn’t meet until September of 1988. In most big families, Christmas gift giving has to be carefully budgeted. Same goes for the generation that follows them.
All of the best memories of parenting and also the best memories of when my siblings and I were growing up do not involve the perfect present. They actually involve some funny incidents and minor mishaps or cheap (even homemade) gag gifts.
Regardless of whether or not you are part of a big family and regardless of whether or not you feel pressured to buy something for all of the family, friends and acquaintances, find something simple in your life to be thankful for rather than focusing on negative things.
Someone somewhere is worse off than you.
Maybe there is someone you know who will be alone this holiday season. Visit him or her. Your friendship is so much more rewarding than a present that may soon be forgotten. If you have little ones, their simply being there brings a smile.
Ask the kids to color a picture or draw something to leave with that person.
Regardless of what you can do, remember the real reason for the season, Christ’s birth.
Christmas cards are one of the many things I’ve grown to appreciate as an adult. I sent cards to 170 addresses this week. Some of these folks I see regularly. Most of them, I don’t.
For those addressees I don’t see often, a Christmas card reminds them that they remain a valued friend or family member. Photo cards are particularly good for this purpose. Besides affirming the relationship, a photo card gives folks a glimpse into the life of the sender.
There’s a lot going on in my life these days. I have a 2 1/2 year old son, nicknamed Bubba. His brother, Peter, turned 1 year old last month. I figure most folks would enjoy a holiday picture of the boys. Plus, photo cards don’t require a signature, and they are relatively cheap. (I paid $46 for 200 cards and envelopes at Sam’s Club.)
However, capturing the perfect shot can be a real challenge. I thought I was smart, buying Santa hats for the boys this year. I figured any pose with big, red-and-white hats had to be cute. I was wrong.
For about 20 minutes one evening, I wrestled with the boys in front of the Christmas tree trying to get a scene that would make Norman Rockwell envious. Instead, I ended up yelling at Bubba and slamming Peter’s butt to the floor in hopes he would sit still. Peter refused to wear his hat, and the whole affair ended with two crying kids.
A few days later, I tried again. It was largely a repeat of my earlier attempt, except this time I kept my cool. In a last ditch effort, I grabbed Peter by his ankles and hung him upside down in front of the tree, next to his brother. (See shot above). The Wife snapped the photo.
I think the Christmas photo turned out rather well, though I’ve already begun hearing complaints from some of the recipients. “I can’t figure out what to do with this Christmas card. No matter how I hang it, someone is always upside down,” said a relative leaving a message on our answering machine.
Better upside down than crying, I suppose.
Once upon a time, a very special children’s ministry director planted a seed of curiosity in our children about adopting a goat for an African family as a mission project.
It has been on the minds of our two kids ever since.
The daughter, now 13, brought up the subject in October when she was stuffing shoe box after shoe box for the same organization, Samaritan’s Purse.
The more the boy thought about it over Thanksgiving break, the more he decided the goat needed a story. He decided to dream one up about the impact this one goat would have on a poor community on the other side of the world.
The goat came from Romania. The family had too many goats to feed, so they sold it to an organization that helps families in need because they knew the goat was going to have a baby and that would help the family even more.
It was shipped in a sturdy, wooden crate in a big airplane. The crate was then parachuted down to somewhere in the poorest part of Africa where there wasn’t a landing strip for the plane (or maybe the pilot was in too much of a hurry). Yes, he loves military stories.
Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich has had a rough week. He’s accused of several acts of wrongdoing, most notably attempting to sell President-elect Barack Obama’s senate seat. A fellow reporter told me our hair-brained governor had been arrested at his home as the news broke early Tuesday morning.
“I feel bad for his kids,” she said.
“Yeah, but he put them in this situation,” I replied, feeling a little heartless for my response.
Now, I’m no fan of G-Rod. Even before the allegations of corruption surfaced, I felt his ideas for improving things in Illinois were weak. For example, the Illinois Tollway does not need carpool lanes. This isn’t California. And using unmarked vans with radar guns and cameras to catch speeders on the Kennedy Expressway doesn’t agree with my lead foot. Giving free rides to all senior citizens using public transportation doesn’t sit well with me either, particularly considering even the most affluent seniors qualify for the program. Why should a wealthy widow get a free ride to Nordstrom, while a struggling blue-collar worker faces increased fares?
These things are all reflections of Hot Rod as a governor, not as a parent. I wonder can a person who is charged with illegal activity be a good parent? I don’t think so. Part of being a good parent is following the law… particularly if you’re a law maker.
Maybe Blago and his wife, Patti, never miss a soccer game or school play for their daughters, Amy and Anne. Maybe Milorad “Rod” R. Blagojevich gives his daughters a bath every night, reads them a bedtime story and tucks them under the covers with a gentle kiss. And maybe he makes a big pancake breakfast for the family to enjoy every Saturday morning.
But despite all of that, can he still be a good dad if he goes to work and breaks the same laws he’s sworn to uphold? I guess there’s a chance Blago is innocent. So instead, let’s use a fictional character we know is guilty: Tony Soprano.
Seeing kids perform onstage is so precious it brings tears to my eyes.
Parents, these are the best times of your family’s life.
When our younger child held up his assigned letter of a word sign upside down during our church musical, the crowd loved it. It was certainly a memorable moment. Knowing our little guy, it may have been on purpose. I wouldn’t put it past him.
That is part of the joy. Nobody expects things to be perfect.
Fortunately, our son is not sensitive about these types of things.
However, keep in mind that some kids may be striving for perfection. Always be careful about what you say and how you say it if things don’t go as the child had planned. Let him or her bring up the subject afterward. It can be a stressful time for the kids.
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote in detail about being trapped in the house with two sick kids. It was a vivid description of five consecutive days of wiping gooey noses and sleepless nights. I received quite a bit of feedback on that column.
Most of the comments came from fellow parents, who sympathized with my predicament. I also received a few emails from folks who decided to read the Tale of Snot while eating their morning Malt-O-Meal. This group was upset that my gross-out account ruined their breakfast.
One of the more unique emails came from a Daily Journal reader named Margaret. She was among my sympathizers. She also pointed me to a new product designed to cut down on the spread of germs by children.
It’s called Germy Wormy, and it’s basically a disposable sleeve that fits over a child’s arm. Kids are encouraged to sneeze into the green, grinning worm character rather than into their hands. By doing this, they are “feeding” Germy Wormy and keeping germs trapped within the bend in their elbow.
At first, I thought this product was ridiculous. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Kids are typically taught to cover their mouth and nose when they sneeze. This is usually done with their hands. Then, they wipe their freshly, sneezed-upon paws on their pant legs, the refrigerator door or into their eyes.
Wherever those tiny hands go next, germs are being spread. So why not try to cut down the circulation of these germs by making sneezing into a game?
The disposable sleeves aren’t cheap. The Parent Starter Kit - which includes a DVD explaining the Germy Wormy to kids, a Parent Guide and 25 disposable sleeves - costs $15. But what’s the price of walking around like a zombie all winter with a head cold that never seems to let up for more than 2 days?
Hi, Sis, welcome to our house.
That should have been something like this. Welcome to our sick home and hold the ill baby while I go and clean up the vomit from one of our other sons getting sick in the hallway going down to the guest bedroom.
Those weren’t the exact words, but as we arrived at the home of one of the relatives late Wednesday night, we had no warning they were or had all been ill.
Thanks, and we missed you, too, I am thinking. No, hugs aren’t necessary at this point.
Isn’t it strange that, despite the numerous times we had talked to my brother’s family, we had no idea they were sick? The irony is that his wife is a nurse and knows about germ warfare.
What do you do when you are so exhausted from driving that you cannot think straight and have already focused on sleep?
