A few days before Christmas, my kids received a letter from Santa Claus. I told you they were special. Actually, for about the last three years, Mark has been penning a letter, printing it in a flowery script, placing it in a manila envelope with a return address of “Office of Santa Claus, North Pole”, and leaving it at our door. The letters always talk about what is currently going on in their lives, like the fact that Will is into golf and Jenny is growing her bangs out. I think Mark is capitalizing on the “Santa watches everything” line, and he’s letting the kids know just what it is that Santa sees. Mark does not keep in mind the fact that kids are very perceptive. And he hasn’t factored in the inevitable conversations and reactions at school, when our kids ask other kids about their letters from Santa. Oops.
The night of the letter delivery, when Mark made his “goodnight” call, he asked to talk to me. When I got on the phone he said, “Hey, did the kids get a letter from Santa?” I said that they had gotten it. And there was a long pause. Mark said, “Well, they didn’t mention anything.” Another pause … Finally I said, “Ah, Mark… If I ask them about the letter right now, they will know that you had something to do with it.” “Oh, yes. Well, I just wanted to know if they got it and if they liked it.”
Will is 11 and he still believes. At least it sure seems like it. Could be that he’s faking it because he’s already discovered that fantasy is better than reality. He did ask a bunch of questions about this year’s letter. “Do all kids get letters? How does Santa have time to write all those letters? If all kids don’t get letters, why do we get ’em?”
The three of us were excited this year because Mark had made plans to be out of town for Christmas. Then, on the night of Christmas Eve, he asked when he could see the kids on Christmas Day. That sent us into a tailspin. Of course, in typical Narcissist fashion, he denied ever having made plans to be out of town. He said that he’d been asking the kids (all along) when they could come over. When I got off the phone, I asked them if their dad had attempted to make plans for Christmas Day. They denied ever having been asked. Then they asked if I was mad at them. Then we tried to re-create phone conversations with Mark. And once again, the three of us realized that we were caught up in his lies and contradictions. We got our bearings, set up a time for the kids to see him, and proceeded to grin and bear it.
On Christmas Day, after opening the gifts that Santa left at Mark’s house, Will gave me a call. He had an urgent question. “Mom? Did you talk to Santa on the phone this year?” I emphatically said, “No! Pal, he’s way too busy to be talking to every body’s parents this time of year.” Then Will says, “Well I was just checking.”
When Jenny and Will returned home with all the gifts from Mark and Santa, Mark started showing me all the wonderful gifts they had received. He included lengthy explanations (lectures) on how each gift would be used, when it would be used, what it would be worn with, and how fabulous he was for making the selections that he’d made. Santa brought a guitar for Jenny and an iPod for Will. (Interestingly, Mark had seen the letters the kids wrote to Santa. Jenny did not request a guitar. Will did not request an iPod. Apparently, even though Santa sees all, he knows what they really want, even if they ask for something else.) When Mark was demonstrating the guitar, he pointed out the music book and guitar strap that he had selected to go with the guitar. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “How did you know that Santa was bringing Jenny a guitar?” Without missing a beat, Mark explained that Santa had called and told him about the guitar.
About a week before Christmas, I had heard Will on the phone with Mark. I assumed that Mark had been asking Will what kind of music he liked because I heard Will say, “Brad Paisley and the Zac Brown Band.” Strangely enough, the iPod that Will received from Santa came pre-loaded with Mark’s current music collection, which doesn’t include Brad or Zac. Willie Nelson’s ‘Teatro’ is a fabulous CD. There isn’t an 11 year old on the planet that wants to jam to Willie Nelson’s ‘Teatro’.
By Christmas Evening, Jenny had an upset tummy and was visibly distressed. Through tears she told me, “Mom, I just don’t know what to think. Either Santa isn’t real. Or Daddy is a liar.”
Tags: all about me, child of narcissist, divorce, humor, life, narcissism, narcissist behavior, narcissistic behavior, NPD, survive
