Issue link: https://imageup.uberflip.com/i/610467
4 OUR YUCAIPA | DECEMBER 2015 Why did the magic of the holiday disappear? Oh, it was you… By Courtney Fox Taylor It kind of sucks being a grown-up at Christmas. There are parties to attend with food to eat (and diets to abandon), family to see (and family to avoid), gifts to shop for and wrap, wishes to fulfill and dreams to pop, houses to clean and decorate, cookies to bake — and so much more, all on top of the normal, everyday work and family obligations. There isn't enough time in the day to be festive. Being in charge of everything is overwhelming and has sucked the magic out of the holidays. I'm left wondering how to get it back. What I really want to do is have someone else be in charge for a little bit. I want to make a list of things I'm wishing for and have someone shop for me. I want to leave Rudolph a carrot and Santa a plate of cookies and a cold beer like I did when I was little. I want to shake the presents and wonder what they could be. I want to arrange the village under the tree and play with the train. I want to come out of my room and open gifts that aren't practical. My husband wraps my motor oil and windshield wiper blades then tapes gift cards to the box. Motor oil isn't magical. My son Benjamin was born on Christmas which only adds to the franticness I feel. One year we were at my mom's and I have to admit I completely forgot it was his birthday. She came out with a cake and I ran into the bedroom and shoved $20 into an envelope for his gift. And I have to say, it probably won't be the last year I forget his birthday. But he didn't notice - when you're a kid on Christmas, pretty much all is good with the world. When he was little, making magic was easy. Every gift was met with wide-eyed wonder and amazement. He loved microwave popcorn and for a few years, I wrapped each bag individually and he was thrilled. Having a little one means built-in magic for the entire family. But this year he turns 16. His wish list reads like a ransom note. "Leave $500 in hundred dollar bills in a stocking after dark." It's times like these I wish the Safe Drop age at the fire station was higher. Making magic in a fog of teenage hormones is tough. He believes that living with us, his mom and dad, is a punishment that should be reserved for terrorists. He thinks we're older than God and dumber than dirt. It's exhausting being wrong all the time about everything. I personally feel like I shop for groceries quite a bit, but according to him, there's never anything good to eat. "There's grapes," I offer. "I don't want grapes," he'll say. "What about a nice apple? Or some strawberries?" He'll stop and look at me like I'm trying to poison him. "What is it with you and fruit?" he'll ask. He's asked that so often I'm starting to wonder myself what is it with me and fruit. Then I remind myself that I'm in charge and fruit is good for you and I need to decorate the house and make the cookies and hang the stockings and wrap the presents… I'll listen to Perry Como this year like I always do but I'll brace myself for Benjamin's commentary. "What is this music?" he'll ask, not wanting a reply. Just throwing it out there to make me aware that he disapproves. This will be followed by, "Do you have to dance around? Why are you smiling so much?" OMG. I just realized who took the magic out of Christmas. It's not adulthood. It's teenagehood. My teenager in my hood, to be exact. Mystery solved! I'll have to be strong and weather this storm. I'll look for the little bright spots in the holiday and embrace them. For example, two years ago, 14-year-old Ben decided his eyebrows were too bushy (because we teased him, I admit it - every day at some point, we'd say, "I'll take Eyebrows for $300 Alex."). So, Christmas morning before he came out to open gifts, he shaved half of his eyebrows off. I didn't notice right away. I knew something was different but couldn't put my finger on it until late in the morning when I was looking over the photos. I was horrified at first but eventually laughed about it, when they grew back in February. Looking back now, that was a good memory. I guess I don't want to go back and be little again. And I don't really want Benjamin to go back and be little again either. He has turned into a teen turd but there are moments that are pretty good, moments that make me smile, moments that will stay with me and remind me how magical this time of year really is… even if I have to help the magic along. I think this year, instead of $500, I'll get him a box of fruit. That will be a magical moment — at least for me.