I am relieved to announce that our Ten Days of Decadence, oh so similar to the Twelve Days of Christmas, is finally over. Our Okapis (twin four-year olds) are completely spoiled now and we have 50 weeks to deprive them until next year.

Our Ten Days of Decadence (TDoD – kind of like the sound of my head hitting the wall over and over again) started Friday, December 15th and ended Monday, December 25th.

My family is Jewish and we celebrate Chanukah, which started Friday the 15th. In celebration of Chanukah we get our children small gifts for each of the nights. To give you a glimpse into how decadent the TDoD was, we didn’t even have a chance to give them most of the gifts we bought because they had received so many! Let’s see, they got Chanukah gifts from their grandparents, two sets of great grandparents and from their aunt, my sister, visiting from California. They got so many Chanukah gifts from family that we didn’t really need to buy them anything at all. We just only seem to remember that AFTER we buy them new gifts. Next year, nothing, I tell you. We’re buying them nothing!

But, in case you’re thinking, so what’s the big deal with that? Eight nights of presents, sure that sounds wonderful, but not all that decadent. Was there anything else?

Why yes, yes there was, thank you for asking. See, while the 15th was the first night of Chanukah, the 16th was their birthday party. Yes, their birthday is on the 17th. Since they were turning four years old (can someone please explain to me how that happened?), we decided to do things slightly differently this year – we held a party at our local recreation center for our Okapis to play in the gym with their friends and have pizza and ice cream cake. Their take from that party, the number of birthday presents they received was overwhelming to me, to everyone who saw them. We had about fifteen kids attend, with each one buying one gift for each of our Okapis (15 X 2 = 30 for those struggling with the math at home). That doesn’t include ALL of the presents from our friends and family who often give them more than just one gift. And they have a lot of family; grandparents, great grandparents, uncles, and aunts – they barely all fit into our house!  With all of the presents some people had to stand outside. The cops came by to see if we had a license to run a club out of our house, there were so many people.  Next year, I think we might hire some bouncers to handle all of the traffic.

Afterwards, we did what we normally do, we invited some of our close friends and family over to continue our birthday celebrations. Why do we need two birthday parties for our Okapis? Well, the first party was just for them to have fun with their friends and enjoy being the center of attention that you often only get to be on your birthday when you are a kid. The reason we continued the party at our house is because not only is it Chanukah, not only is it their birthdays, but it is also my wife’s birthday (the 18th).

And my birthday (the 22nd).

That’s right. All four of our birthdays and Chanukah fell in the same week this year. At the party at our house, we had four birthday cakes, one for each of us, of course. Everybody sang Happy Birthday to all of us and everyone, as they do every year, has no idea what to say when it comes time to use our names. “Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday Dear …” Some just use our last name, some try to fit all of our names into the tiny space, some just have fun and mumble nonsensical things since no one will know anyway. It is quite hysterical and I hope we never figure out a specific way to handle that, frankly.

Of course, after the birthday party, there were still several nights of Chanukah left – not too mention ALL OF THE FOOD!! We had leftover ice cream cakes (2), cookies, the other birthday cakes and so much other food. There was so much dessert I was barely making a dent in it all – and that’s not a problem I usually have, I got to tell you.

During Chanukah, we only had one night with just ourselves. Every other night, we either had family or friends over or we went to grandparents or great grandparents houses, with always so much food to eat and more presents to be had. This year, Chanukah ended on my birthday (Friday the 22nd), which we celebrated at my wife’s parent’s house with more cake and more presents for everyone. At one point during that Friday night my wife turned to me and said, “Thank goodness the presents are over for a year.”

“Uhm…Monday.”

Did I mention my wife’s family celebrates Christmas?

“Oh right! Monday is Christmas.” Which, of course, meant more presents! I actually had done the same thing a bit earlier, thankful it was all over and then remembering about Christmas with a slap to my forehead.

So this year Christmas ended the Ten Days of Decadence with a bang. More presents, more candy, more chocolate and not a nutritious meal to be had.
Now that it is all over. Now that there are no more parties, no more family events, no more chocolate, no more presents, I am looking forward to the next 50 weeks where we can remind our Okapis once again not to expect presents with every meal, not to expect candles every night or birthday cake or anything good for that matter for another 355 days.

How long do you think that will last? A week? Maybe ten days?

Sometimes we chase trains.  I’m trying to remember how it all started exactly.  My son (Benjamin, 4) loves trains.  He started liking machines and vehicles.  Then, via the influence of a neighborhood friend who loved Thomas (the Tank Engine), and gifts of some toys train sets, etc., he focused on trains.  Rides on trains at zoos and theme parks strengthened the interest.

Also, my wife and I have pointed out railroad tracks to him as we drive around.  We point out and talk about our surroundings almost whenever we’re driving.  (It’s part of our “There’s A Whole Big World Out There Beyond the In-Car DVD Player That We’re Never Getting” program.) Benjamin is interested in most anything, but again zeroed in on the railroad tracks and crossings and where they are in town.

Then came the first day he was in the car when a freight train was going through the crossing.  This was a glorious moment for him.  He was with Mom, though, and they proceeded through the crossing like normal people and told me about all the excitement later.

The turning point was when the train, Benjamin and I all came together in the same place at the “right” time.  We came up to the crossing; there was a train.  Benjamin was ecstatic; I was excited for him.  I don’t remember exactly how it transpired, but once the train passed, he probably said something like, “I wonder where it’s going.”

I most likely said, “Yeah, I wonder where it’s going.” Then youth’s natural curiosity colluded with my impulsive-compulsive-obsessive personality at a moment when we didn’t specifically have some place to be right away.  And, though I’d never been a model railroader or a train buff, I kinda’ wanted to see which lines the train would take, where it was taking those cars, if it would go over the old railroad bridge over the river . . .

Anyway, Benjamin said (I think), “Hey, maybe we should go see.”

And, instead of saying something like an adult — a parent — would say, I believe I may have said something like, “OK.”

That day and ever since, I have found myself — every so often … more often than I’m willing to admit — with Benjamin following a freight train through town on adjacent streets, “meeting” it at multiple crossings, pulling over on dead end streets to wait for it to uncouple cars.

I did not heed, at the crucial moment described above, this important advice for parents: be careful what precedents you set. I am not one of those parents who has trouble saying ‘no.’ When we go out, I nevertheless have to be prepared to debate or dictate not about McDonald’s or going to the park, but when and why we can’t go following locomotives through town.

I will say I’ve learned a lot about the tracks, sidings, engines, and train cars that move around our town all without ever talking to anyone that works for the railroad.

To my surprise, my wife has told Benjamin he’s very lucky to have a dad that would take the time to “chase trains” with him.

That may be true for a short time.  But consider the file they must have on me at Homeland Security — “ . . . male in minivan with ‘son’ posing as railfans; appears to be casing tracks in proximity in chemical and power plants . . . “

I should be positive.  Perhaps Benjamin can take a train to come visit me at Guantanamo Bay.

Meanwhile, when I hear that unrelenting air horn and the smell of diesel exhaust, those are the sounds and smells of unexpected father-son bonding.

When my wife became pregnant with our first child one of my greatest fears was that my son would reject me. This fear was based on the fact that biologically I am not his father. As I stated in my very first post here on DadBloggers my kids were conceived using donor sperm.

My fear was that somehow the child (now children) would inherently know I was not their biological father and not want me to hold them, read them a story or to be there at all. Well it has worked out just the opposite. My greatest joy is that every morning all they want is to play with me and read to them. Like many families, I leave for work and my wife currently stays home with the kids. Like many mornings my daughter started crying when I got my jacket on to go and she wanted her jacket to go with me.

A book about donor conception which focuses on fears and the stigma of shame was just published where I contributed an essay from the non-biological parent’s point of view. My kids are still young so they have many years to push daddy away for all the standard reasons (I.e., adolescence etc) but for now this DI Dad is happy I have made it past round one of my fears.

Like millions of others across the world, I am spending the holidays with family. Claire, now 20.5 months old, is having a great time with her grandparents. Unlike thousands, our parents live 6 miles apart. And I am never surprised by all of the new stuff she learns here. I remember last November she cut her first tooth here, and now she’s here talking in complete sentences. We have absolutely no idea what she’s saying (since I forgot my Rosetta Stone in my other coat and all) but she is saying it in complete sentences. Occasionally I get a “Baba” or “Dada” or even “No no NO NO NO NO NO NO, DADA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” But other than that, I really don’t know what she’s saying. Next I bet it’ll start making sense to me like learning a foreign language (really, ingratiatingly slowly!).

This summer my wife and I are going on a Central European vacation with 18 high school students, and we will leave Claire with her grandparents. I wonder what wonders she will pick up during those two weeks when her only influences will be the Nuclear Engineer, the Accountant, the Health Insurance Administrator, and the Draperies Expert.

Alas, it is I who has the unfortunate task of writing a Christmas day post. Such pressure.  Such expectation. I nearly told Doug I would resign my contributorship before tackling something so complicated.

After all, Christmas has a different meaning to every one of us. It can be a deeply religious day. It can be a day of celebration. It can be a day to remember happier times or lost loved ones. It can be a combination of all these things. To many people, in fact, it can be just another day, be it a Monday or Tuesday or whatever. Christmas functions as the jack-of-all trades when it comes to holidays.

And I wondered how can a single post take into account all these differences? How can one message convey so many emotions? As I said, it’s a difficult task, but someone has to do it. So I tried to focus on how anyone, regardless of their religious affiliations or beliefs, can enjoy this special holiday.

From the very beginning, the spirit of Christmas has been hopeful. It’s a festive time of cheer and togetherness, of joy and kindness. The earliest celebrations offered thanks for bountiful harvests and peaceful days and brought enthusiasm and hope during long Winter months. Over time, Christian celebrations became intertwined with these festivities, for the birth of a savior was a joyous occasion all its own to be honored and celebrated by all who believe. And so we arrive at our current age, understanding of all that’s come before, and we can recognize the value of this holiday in bringing people and families together in the spirit of hope.

With sleigh bells and lighted trees, with ornaments and burning candles, everyone has a reason to celebrate. Christmas is a time to reconcile with the past, to acknowledge all the joys found in human existence, to offer thanks or prayers for the gifts bestowed upon us, and, most of all, to show our children the splendor and excitement of living.

Growing up, nothing excited me more than Christmas morning. I listened to adults expound on the importance of giving, but how could giving possibly compare to receiving? Now that I have my own children, that question has been answered. The smile on a child’s face when opening a gift, when drinking hot cocoa or playing in the snow, when marveling at the shiny lights on houses and trees, that smile is the greatest gift in the world, and only by giving can we receive it.

So to everyone, I hope these holidays bring you and your families happiness, even when it seems impossible. I hope you discover a bit of joy yourself and allow your children to breathe with the enthusiasm and innocence we all lose so easily as we age. Nothing brightens the world like a child’s happiness, and on this, the most splendid of holidays, we each have the opportunity to discover a bit more of that happiness inside ourselves.

So to everyone, Merry Christmas. I wish you and your families the very best.