I had a whole big post written for today, talking about how Christmas is different for FPIES families. How we have to eschew certain traditions and alter others so that the Christmas’s we create for our kiddos don’t really resemble the ones we had when we were kids.

You know what, though? EVERY day is different for FPIES families. Every holiday is different. Talking about how Christmas isn’t going to live up to my own expectations somehow sounds more whiny than regularly pointing out the obvious life changes FPIES has brought on a day to day basis.

I wasn’t happy with that post. But I didn’t have a better alternative. 

Until I read Dani’s post at Cloudy, With a Chance of Wine yesterday: The day I knew Santa really existed. At the end of her sweet, funny post, she asks the simple question “When did you know Santa really existed?”

And I was taken back to my childhood…

Christmas at my house was always magical.

The weekend after Thanksgiving, we decorated the house. My parents bought a beautiful fake tree when I was a baby; it really was gorgeous, and when I eventually saw real trees decorated in people’s houses I was always happy we had our tree. It was perfect.

One reason we had a fake tree was because real trees require water, and water and electricity don’t mix. Underneath our perfect tree ran a special Christmas train that my Daddy and I had built. The flat cars had Christmas displays on them, the boxcars were decal-ed with Christmas motifs. The engine puffed real steam as it ran around the track.

Christmas just isn’t Christmas without trains under the tree.

Our tree had the perfect mix of ornaments. Special antiques from my great-grandmother, handmade ornaments my Mom made when my parents were poor newlyweds, ornaments I had made over the years, and special ornaments bought to commemorate events in our lives.

There was nothing “designed” about our tree, as so many think is necessary. It was very organically thrown together with a thread of our pasts woven into our present, telling our family story.

All the way up until I moved out of the house as an adult, I would often sit in the living room in the middle of the night, the only lights the glow from the Christmas tree, and savor the warmth and contentment the tree would give me.

My Mom and I would bake like mad-women for Christmas. Dozens of sugar cookie cut-outs, oatmeal raisin with cinnamon, homemade fudge, chocolate chip cookies, divinity and whatever else sounded good that year. We’d make pies and cakes, and the entire month of December was a dedicated feast of sweets and treats.

Every year I got a new Christmas dress to wear, and a new set of Christmas pajamas to wear on Christmas morning.

Christmas Eve we would go to the Midnight service at church. Growing up Methodist at a large church, the service would be filled with hundreds of people, and they really set the bar high for a Christmas Eve service.

Lights were down low, and most of the service was by candle light. We had a large pool to draw talent from; professional or student musicians occupied the choir and orchestra that performed. The music was divine – and I use that word deliberately.

I always felt as though I could FEEL God, Mary and Joseph in our musical communion…especially when the pipe organ played and the vibrations made my chest quiver.

I loved that service.

The part of my childhood Christmas’s that really stands out as a remarkable testimony to the awesome parents I have, though, are the stories of how they kept Santa alive for me.

My Mom had other people write the gift tags for me, so the handwriting didn’t match.

At least twice that I know of, Daddy went up on the roof on Christmas Eve and stomped around, ringing jingle bells to convince me Santa was HERE.

One year we visited my grandma out of state and were snowed in by a blizzard over Christmas. Someone convinced a family friend to brave the snow banks and cold in a Santa suit to come to grandmas house. Arriving “magically”, he explained that because of the storm, he had begun his round-the-world deliveries earlier than usual, and that because of the cold he’d hoped the family in this house would be kind enough to let him warm himself in front of the fire before he resumed his task.

Y’all, I gave Santa Claus hot cocoa and cookies! I MET SANTA. FOR REAL.

I think you can understand why, with parents like this, I believed in my heart that Santa was real well into junior high school (even though I said otherwise to my friends – I didn’t want to seem pathetic or lame)!

The time from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Eve is truly my favorite time of the year. Twinkle lights just make me happy, y’all.

So for today, I’m not going to think about the ways FPIES and FructMal have prohibited my creation of a similar sort of Christmas for my kiddos. I’m not going to think about how we plan to approach the Santa thing a little differently than my parents did.

I’m not going to think about any of that, because this is the last year that my kids might not remember every detail about Christmas, so this Christmas, none of that really matters. 

I have a whole ‘nother year to figure out how I can create a Magical Christmas for my kiddos.

Today I’m going to simply revel in the fact that Jed was thrilled to get to MEET SANTA (at the Mall), that he LOVES getting presents, that he has spent half his awake hours playing adoringly with the Christmas tree since we put it up…and I will take comfort in the fact that because Christmas is so strong in my heart (thanks to my parents) that despite FPIES and FructMal I WILL find a way to build on Jed’s three-year-old joy to create truly Magical Christmas’s for him and Zac in the years to come.

~MERRY CHRISTMAS, Y’ALL!~ 

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I’m going to take a couple days off from blogging to spend time with my family. See you in a few days! Have a wonderful Christmas!!