I’m beginning to think Santa Claus is a poor infertile who’s lost his marbles.
Santa loves kids, yet he doesn’t have any of his own. Why is that? (No I don’t believe for one minute Jenny McCarthy is Santa’s kid.) I feel guilty even asking Santa this question, knowing how I would rather be kicked in the groin than answer that one again. I’m marking this exhibit A.
A. Childless, but loves kids.
As an infertile, I’m always aware of a child’s behavior. I’ve spent so long watching how other parents would deal with behavioral situations, hoping to learn something, now I can’t help but spot a behavior and label it naughty or nice. Then consider how I would support good behavior and curb bad behavior. Sound familiar?
B. Obsessed with behavior in other people’s children.
There just is no way to live in society as an infertile and not be affected by this fact on a daily basis. Go to work…BAM! Pregnant woman walking down the hall. Go to the store…BAM! Mothers and children everywhere you look. I can’t even go to the dentist without having to face my infertility. How do you escape dealing with this painful reminder every day?
C. Lives in isolation 11 months of the year.
Many infertile’s compensate for not having children by adopting pets to love and spoil. I don’t think Bandit realizes he’s a dog. My wife keeps calling him baby and he is always wanting to eat our food instead of his own.
Santa has a lot of pets. More exotic than a dog for sure. Some infertile’s like dogs, some like cats, Santa loves reindeer. They only work once a year and spend the rest of the time laughing and playing reindeer games.
D. Has fur babies.
When faced with infertility, understandably many fall into a depressive state. When depressed it’s hard to summon the willpower to resist food temptations. I’ve always had trouble resisting homemade cookies. But I remember when I could be satisfied eating a couple of them and walking away. Now I can’t resist a plate of cookies and won’t be satisfied until the plate is empty. Stick on me a white beard and wig, throw me in a red suit and soon I could be St. Nick without the need for any padding. Ugh.
E. Can’t resist finishing off a plate of cookies.
Every infertile has dealt with someone trying to make them feel better by stating they could be a mother or father to their friends kids. While your friends kids are cute, it’s just not the same as having our own children. But we suffer the birthday parties and special events for the the sake of the child and our friendship. For some reason many think we must have a picture taken with their child, like that would help lift our spirits.
F. Millions of pictures with the children of strangers.
I feel I’m forever going to miss out on the magic of Christmas with a child. I can’t buy gifts, wrap them up in fancy paper, and set them out for display on Christmas eve for my child to wake up in the morning and have their eyes light up. Donating a gift to Toys for Tots only gets you so far in fulfilling this desire. You can’t wrap the gift, nor display the gift.
I don’t blame Santa for wanting to break into peoples homes and participate in making children happy. He’s lucky his magic keeps him from getting caught like I know I would.
Santa lives in hiding while the elves make the toys and put together the list. He passes the time working and playing games with his fur babies. Travels the world one night a year bringing joy to millions of kids. Greeted at each house with a plate of cookies and kisses from countless mothers. He comes home to a loving wife and starts the process over again for next year.
I’d certainly be a lot more jolly despite my infertility with a job like that.