Living Outside The Lines: Santa + Birthdays = Magic
By. Becky J. Miller
Childhood is generally considered an idyllic time; a time for jumping in mud puddles with no worries over dirtying one’s clothes, a time for eating ginormous ice cream sundaes with no worries over fat and calories; a time for wearing stripes with polka dots with no worries of others judgment, a time for awe and wonder, a time of innocence, and a time for magic.
Most of us outgrow of the magic of Santa and birthdays well before our teenage years, but some of us, well, some of us hang on for dear life. Why is that? There’s always the deep psychological issue option, or could the desire to cling to that childlike innocence simply be part of one’s charm?
By now you may have astutely ascertained that for me, Santa and birthdays still hold the potential for magic. My dear sweet husband would say clinging to childish beliefs is part of my charm, but I’m sure Mr. Freud would have a somewhat different opinion.
I was one of those children who believed in Santa Claus well past what is normally considered acceptable. My 12 year old self was completely devastated to find out He was not real. Santa did everything right. I cannot recall ever being disappointed with the gifts he left beneath the tree. Somehow he always knew exactly what I wanted the most. Sometimes instead of presents, Santa left clues beneath the tree. The joy of discovery made the magic even more powerful.
Once the magic is gone though, reality sets in and you begin to learn phrases like “holiday budget” and “temporarily out of stock”. Despite the full disclosure clause, I still managed to retain part of that innocence. Only now, there is no magic and my unrealistic expectations only set my adult self up for disappointment. I get really bummed when there are no fabulous surprises on Christmas. At my age, it is ridiculous for me to expect them, and yet, I never learn.
There is still some magic to behold at Christmas though, the joy of giving. I love listening for clues throughout the year and then surprising friends and family with special gifts. The magic of giving carefully planned and well thought out presents is just as strong as receiving, perhaps even more so.
Adult birthdays are always problematic. There is little to top the magic of that one special birthday. All of my birthday memories include feelings of being treasured, cherished and adored. My 11th birthday however, will always top the chart. Year 11 was the year of Holly Hobbie, a visit from my Florida cousins, and the movie Grease.
Back before dinosaurs roamed the earth, birthday parties were not the huge, thematic productions of today; they were much simpler. Simple was good, but Holly Hobbie was better. To this day I couldn’t tell you why, but my 11th birthday was the one year I had a themed party; from the invitations to the paper goods to the birthday cake. Even now, at almost 49, if someone were to give me a porcelain Holly Hobbie doll (I’ve searched unsuccessfully for years), you would see me revert back to my childhood in the twinkle of an eye. My dad and step mom gave me a Holly Hobbie rag doll for Christmas a few years ago, she is proudly displayed in my cubicle at work.
Holly wasn’t the only thing special about my 11th birthday. That year my beloved cousins Leslie and Dawn traveled from Florida to South Carolina to celebrate, and they took me to see Grease! It’s fascinating to look back and see how an event impacted your life, Grease remains one of my all time favorite movies
Birthdays start to lose their magic when everyone stops celebrating them with you. It’s as if the day you arrived on the planet no longer matters. I remember when my grandparents stopped sending birthday cards with money. I was devastated. Logically, it makes sense; as the oldest grandchild, there are many more grandkids and great grandkids trailing behind me, and all those birthdays can get expensive. All the logic in the world doesn’t dull heartache though.
As my 49th birthday approaches next week, I’ve worked hard to prepare myself to endure a rather unremarkable day. There are some things I really want; a trip to Brazil & to watch Olympic gymnastics, swimming, platform and springboard diving, sand volleyball and of course track and field. Tickets to see Maroon 5 in San Antonio, and a romantic getaway to an exotic beach with fruity drinks and a cabana that opens right on the water. Nothing too elaborate, wouldn’t you agree?
The grown up me knows my wants are completely unrealistic; there’s no birthday fairy to magically grant those wishes, but boy that green-eyed, curly blonde pig tailed little girl still has a hard time reconciling fantasy versus reality. The Neil Sedaka classic declared, “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do?” Well, breaking up may be hard, but growing up is harder.
Maybe someday I’ll figure it out. Maybe.
Until Next Time,
Becky J Miller
“Warrior Princess”
