Yes, Christina... there is a Santa Claus

I lie to my children.

Not often, and not out of malice. In fact, I've justified that it's all a part of the method of protective parenting. From serving my own purposes ("Santa only visits if your room is clean") to protecting them from the ugly parts of humanity, I've told them the same lies and half-truths that parents all across the planet have been telling their kids for years.

It's something I've always struggled with. In part, because I feel like my parents did a wonderful job of sheltering me from life's ugliness... which made it a bit of a rude awakening when I set out to make my own life in the world. I've always wanted to be able to give my kids a good dose of 'reality', while still allowing them to see the world with all of the wonder and potential and beauty it possesses.

It becomes much more difficult to pass on those half-truths as my kids get older. They are far too inquisitive and savvy these days and have no qualms about rolling their eyes and sighing loudly if they feel they aren't getting full disclosure. "Because I said so" has never ever worked with them.

My daughter is getting interested in psychology. Such as it is with any school of science or medicine, a lot of the mystery is swept away for a formulaic approach. It can be difficult to analyze the psychology of her teenage heart-throbs while simultaneously trying to relate the desirable qualities of adult relationships. Sound confusing? You should hear our conversations!!

A well-meaning teacher supplied my daughter with some marriage statistics that had her making some broad declarations upon returning home from school one day. Because both of her parents are divorced, she is almost guaranteed to follow in our footsteps. Not only was she mortified, but I could hear the accusation in her voice... as if the sins of the father (and mother) had indeed damned her to spinsterhood. Or a life of confused debauchery at the very least.

It opened up a candid conversation about relationships and the reality of the work involved in long-term relationships. A lot of questions were asked, many of them uncomfortable... but hey, that's just a benefit to having the kind of relationship I have with my kids.

I've not really made an effort to hide my less-than-desirable qualities from my children. They know I smoke. They've been there to support me every time I've tried to quit and they've struggled with me through every failure to kick my habit. They can do basic math, so they know I engaged in premarital sex (and through further grilling, that I actually went through quite a promiscuous phase my Senior year of High School). Most of my faults are pretty obvious ones and would take a great deal of time and energy to hide or lie about.

But it was only a matter of time before they started asking the questions that mattered... and they did.
While I wanted to weave fairy tales to my daughter of men in uniform on valiant steeds that would bring rainbows and bunnies to every day for as long as they both shall live... I found myself in a terrible conundrum. I couldn't lie. I couldn't gloss over the complexity of relationships (not to mention the mind-boggling notion of a mutually fulfilling sex life!) and offer the 'pat answers' that would have satisfied her curiosity; even if not supplying complete candor.

And so it was that I found myself confessing to my daughter (without gratuitous details) that I was at least 50-75% at fault for the failure of my relationships. I confessed equal parts ignorance, naivete, pride, and narcissism... and then the big one.
The deal-breaker.
Infidelity.

I think my biggest 'sin' as a young adult female was believing in the 'perfect relationship'. I believed that once a relationship became painful or required more work than the reward, then it wasn't meant to be. I would walk away, taking it as a sign from the universe that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. Because when I am, everything just falls into place seamlessly. Right? Ha.

Several failed relationships later, and nursing my own shattered heart, I finally stripped away some of the mystery and attacked the formulaic 'science' of it. Two individuals will ALWAYS struggle at maintaining symbiosis. It's the journey and the history between two people that helps to make up the solid foundation of a relationship. It isn't always walks on the beach or 'flour fights' while cooking in the kitchen. It is reconciling emotional baggage as well as bank accounts. It's arguing over sleeping arrangements and whether we can afford to visit the in-laws over Christmas. It's bickering over child-rearing and house-training.

Celebrating success is easy. Grieving failure is hard. And both are instrumental to a solid relationship. There is no 'perfect relationship' because there are no 'perfect' people and therefore no such thing as a 'perfect couple'. It sounds harsh even as I type it and I know I border on sounding like a cynical spinster myself, but I believe it to be true. I think a 'perfect relationship' exists on the same level as 'Santa Claus'.

It is an idea... a concept... a kind of 'faith' that we have that allows us to pursue vulnerability and intimacy with another person. And while Santa may be a bit more forgiving of your shenanigans throughout the year, your relationship won't be.

It takes work. It takes patience. It takes vulnerability and strength. It takes communication and silence.

I pass these ideas on to my daughter in the hope that she doesn't have to make the same mistakes I did. Lord help me if she's doomed to repeat my steps!! (Somehow I highly doubt it.) And since I know she's going to have psychology textbooks next year that are even more clinical about their approach, I don't mind being blunt.

Without lying, I can say that I believe that happy, healthy, long-term relationships do exist. My grandparents, aunts and uncles and several friends have been happily married for periods spanning 10-60 years. And I'll bet that if I asked them all, none of them would say they have the perfect relationship. They would all tell you that it took work and they would proudly wave the flags of obstacles overcome as a proud symbol of their victories and triumphs.

Knowing how hard it is gives me a greater respect for those that have made their relationships work. Gay, straight, married or not... sharing your life with someone is at the same time the most rewarding and most difficult thing to do. At least it is for me... but I'm a selfish person by nature with a grandiose sense of entitlement... so sharing anything (especially my Barbies) is difficult.

But I believe that it's worth believing in. And fighting for. Finding that one person who you can share everything with... your flaws, your aspirations, your bad habits, your dreams, your fears, your fantasies... It can open your life to garner twice the experience, twice the joy, twice the understanding. But it easily requires twice the work.

Is it worth it? I believe so.

But then again, I'm pretty sure I still believe in Santa Claus.