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Farrah is a new expat mom of 3 young boys and tries to jot it all down on her blog The Three Under. Her family just moved to a small village in the Netherlands and they’re trying to survive this adventure without offending the entire EU. Find her on Facebook at The Three Under and on Twitter at @Momofthreeunder.

It’s difficult for me to explain exactly how I’m feeling this holiday season. At first, I thought I might discuss how hard it was going to be living so far away from family this Christmas, or being in a strange new house and a colder climate – or not having our traditional decorations and our usual ‘things’ this time of year. Or even that crazy Target lady and her commercials. I’ll admit it – I miss those.

But, being here in the Netherlands now for the past month, I’ve learned a few things. Sure, we’re dealing with all of the above. Sure, we’re doing it with a three-year-old and twin two-year-olds. But the most bizarre thing about this Christmas is that I am in the land of Crazy Non Politically Correct Christmas. Like Christmas is on E over here. It’s not in-your-face commercialized, but it’s…whoa.

First, we arrived at the beginning of November – just as the very, very popular ‘Sinter Klaas’ was getting ready to arrive via ship from Spain with his helpers. Personally, I was just feeling really out of the loop missing Thanksgiving, but, to add to it, I was apparently missing out on the tradition and background of Sinter Klaas and his crew who appear to be in blackface.

What?

Okay. Let me back up. First and foremost, Christmas is THE biggest holiday of the year in the Netherlands. Shop and boutique windows are adorned, but all with a very personal feel – until you start to see the character of Zwarte Piet and think to yourself, What is going on here?

Before we left the states, some Dutch friends on Twitter told me to prepare myself for this whole Zwarte Piet thing. They told me it wasn’t meant to be offensive or insulting, that he is a beloved character and regarded quite highly. I, however, took one look at the photos and just went ‘Um. Oh. Uh…’ when seeing the people dressed in blackface, colorful silk suits, and feather plumed hats. Every year, I am sure that people unfamiliar with this tradition (such as myself) feel the same way when confronted with this very non-PC expression of the holidays.

Very non-PC indeed.

Basically, the story goes like this: Sinter Klaas arrives via ship from Spain with his group of very dark skinned helpers (I have also read that they become black due to the amount of soot that they pick up in the chimney) on November 19th. They go around giving dark gingerbread-like cookies to children (that mine are now addicted to eating) and throw candy at people. Sinter Klaas, however, is not to be confused with Santa Claus- because he exists, too. It’s all a bit confusing, but I am trying to keep the focus on Zwarte Piet and his companions.

The Zwarte Piet costume aside – what really threw me was the day I went to pick up B, and he was dressed as Sinter Klaas, who actually looks like some kind of medieval pope or bishop. To this very laid back, low-key religious mom, I was indeed thrown for a proverbial loop. How do you explain this to 2 & 3 year olds? They don’t even understand that this IS offensive.

Not to be outdone, Germany has its own type of terror to instill into children this time of year. My friend Carrie is married to a German. She told me about their tradition of the ‘Krampus‘ or ‘Grumpus’. Basically, that is a horrifying troll/goat-like creature that is sent to take away the naughty children during Christmastime.

So, yeah. Many of us may be rolling out eyes this holiday at the overabundance of Elf on the Shelf contortions- but, be thankful that we do not have ghastly trolls or people dressed in blackface, throwing candy at your kids.

Christmas is Christmas, and it’s more than a hundred trips to Target and wrapping gifts. There are traditions and cultures that we share and pass down to our children without realizing the influence these traditions will have on them as they grow older. I’m sure we will make memories to rival some of the things that we have since seen over here – but I am almost afraid to imagine what they might be.

How would you explain these traditions to your kids?

Bridgette is an English Teacher and board certified Super Mom. She writes the blog Shortcut Girl where she gives recipes, beauty tips, and (with luck!) writes some insightful pieces on parenting. Along with her kids, Parker and Celia, and her husband Mike, she calls Saratoga Springs, NY home.  Like her page on Facebook, follow her on Twitter @shortcutgrrl, or stop by her blog when you have a chance!

The Christmas tree. It’s the most sacred of all symbols of Christmas. Along with the nativity, the Christmas wreath, and Santa’s hat and a candy cane, the Evergreen tree is what makes Christmas Christmas. Otherwise, it’s just another day where you eat a lot and have really ridiculous expectations of your friends and family. The tree is the core of Christmas. It gives meaning, focus, and the right type of sentimentality to all things holiday.

I won’t go over my bizarre sense of childishness when it comes to my birthday and Christmas. Because, well, it would annoy you to hear that a grown woman still has little girl dreams about the surprises that await her on holidays. But I will say this:  I’m the girl who thinks that maybe – just maybe – there’s a surprise party being planned for me and I’d better not let on that I know. Or when husband comes home with suspicious bag and box and shoves it in the closet, “Oh boy! He really got me something nice!” Only later on, long after Christmas, you find a state-of-the-art shaver in that bag that your husband uses (is it called manscaping?) behind locked bathroom doors.

So, it’s no surprise that the Christmas tree- getting it, decorating it and adoring it in all its beauty – is an important piece of my uber-childish holiday haze. I mean, it’s not just a tree. It’s your entire sense of faith, tradition, and happiness wrapped up in one sappy, sticky, prickly plant. What? You think that’s a lot of pressure?

This isn’t a story about how the tree is my lifeblood and how one Christmas the tree toppled over and so did my dreams of Christmas joy. It’s about the effort I make with my husband, each year, to make the Christmas tree acquisition and trimming both romantic and wistful. And, each year, I get a little bit closer to dealing with reality.

I did not marry someone wistful. And turns out, wistfulness is not his greatest quality. But, still, in relationships, you try to force that square peg in a round hole time after time after time…

I grew up with a single Mom. A tree being up in the house meant a lot of things. It meant Christmas was coming,  there was probably enough money for presents (or good credit at the Bon Ton), and that my family was coming home. My brother was 18 years my senior and my sister 13 years older, so, for a kid who lived most of the year like an only child, the tree, the impending holiday, and the cookies my Mom made meant family, family, family (and, okay, well, presents).

So, at about December 1^st each year, I am transformed into a little girl, helping her mother “trim” (put together) the artificial tree that meant Christmas (I am well aware of the irony here, but I am going to continue nonetheless). And the only problem about becoming this little girl is that I am married to a man. I am married to a man who had 6 siblings, lots of Christmas trees, and very few nostalgic memories of stringing popcorn and cranberries all Norman-Rockwell-style while Barbara Streisand’s Christmas record played in the background. Christmas just wasn’t a sentimental firework of an occasion for him.

And I have to get over that.

But each year, I have the most convenient case of Christmas amnesia. My expectations and my sense of “this will be the best tree yet!” go through the roof. And then I look over at my husband, nonplussed, semi-distracted, perfectly content with no special Christmas tree traditions to follow. And I am reminded of Christmas pasts during which I went temporarily insane when it came to the tree.

The Plywood floors Christmas: We were doing a lot of work on our house. I mean, we gutted it. There were no walls around the bathroom. No sheet rock in sight. But, I still thought that every house needed a tree at Christmas. I mean, we didn’t even have kids yet. I barked at Mike, like a crazy woman as he was lost in a game of Middle Earth on the computer, “I can’t believe I am decorating this ALL BY MYSELF!”

Mini-Tree: Fast forward two years later. I wanted a real tree, and so selected a “small” real tree for our tiny upstairs apartment. The tree looked less like a “small” and more like an “XXL” when we finally got it up there. Mike chopped off branches, and sawed down the trunk. All to make it fit. “I can’t believe you are RUINING MY TREE!”

Tree Trimming by Proxy: A friend lived downstairs from me for a while. She rented our lower apartment and loved the Christmas tree tradition as much as I. So, for the tree decorating night we would have a little party. I got to ignore my husband’s bored face and enjoy my perfect little tree. But then she moved to Florida and ruined everything.

Fake it: She left behind her artificial tree and I have used that the past two years. Why? Well, a) I can put it up whenever I want (don’t have to wait for someone to agree to go to the tree farm and wrestle with the saw) and b) no pine needles.

I know now that I will have a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old this Christmas, I will want to go find a tree together as a family, take a gabillion pictures, drink hot chocolate, and spread Christmas cheer to all, but I will have to see if my husband will be in on that.

Because, really, it could end up with me, knee-deep in snow, hands covered in sap, sawing the crap out of a tree I had chosen, because he decided not to have an opinion. “I can’t believe you are making me cut down MY OWN TREE!”

So, as it turns out, the tree is not so sacred of a symbol for our family. It’s just something Mom gets overly sentimental, somewhat nostalgic, and yes, sometimes slightly crazy about. Christmas still happens without the perfect tree. Santa still comes. Husbands still get gag gifts for their wives (pink Snuggies). And someday, if we’re lucky, after braving several holidays à la Gallagher, my kids will say to someone, “My Mom loves having a nice Christmas tree. I mean she’s CRAZY about it. It’s just her thing.” And that, I think, will be enough.

Well, I’ve got your Elf Pack Prizes lined up (give or take one – there may be a surprise or two), and here they are!

• Hallmark Keepsake 2012 Snowflake Ornament
• $25 Macy’s Gift Card
• Arthur Christmas on DVD
• $100 Mpix Gift Certificate
• iHome Portable Rechargeable Mini Speakers (If you’re extra nice, you will receive Glow Tunes LED Color-Changing speakers!)
• Godiva Chocolatier Ultimate Dessert Truffles (including Chocolate Lava Cake, Chocolate Éclair, Strawberry Crème Tarte, Red Velvet Cake, Tiramisu, and Crème Brûlée)
• $15  iTunes Gift Card
• Yankee Candle Sparkling Snow 14.5 oz. Jar Candle

Remember, ONE READER and ONE AUTHOR will win an Elf Pack at the end of Momma’s 12 Days of Christmas!

And one LUCKY participant will win the Grand Prize…get ready…

A Keurig Elite Brewing System

I know! I don’t even have one!

Readers can enter once a day by leaving a comment on each day’s post. Just ONE entry per day, please. Winner must reside in the US or Canada and provide a valid email address along with each entry.

Just remember, most news, updates, and promotion of Momma’s 12 Days of Christmas will take place on Facebook and Twitter. When I have an announcement, I primarily use these sources. If you’re considering participating, reading along, or entering to win prizes, it would behoove you to Like Momma Be Thy Name on Facebook and/or follow @MommaBeThyName on Twitter if you have not already.

I look forward to receiving the remaining posts over the next week or so.

If you have general questions or need an overview of Momma’s 12 Days, please click here to learn more.

Thanks all, and have a wonderful Thanksgiving!