So you know how I said I’d written the last post of the year? Yeah, that was a fib.
It takes the truly dedicated to drag themselves away from 24/7 family time, and to sacrifice all that quality togetherness for a splice of quiet time. Honestly, it’s nothing short of heroic; the price one pays for living with ardor in their bones. Who in their right mind would WANT to remove themselves from the throbbing heart of their family, I just DO not know.
Truly through, Christmas came alive this year, more than any of which have before been. Children make the magic of Christmas burst at the seams. So, this year, I was tipped over and poured out. There were gushings and reflections and all sorts of traditions created, and of course, I cried.
I’m not sure what is better. To be witnessing Christmas through the eyes of a barely one year old, excitement so fierce it’s palpable, life full of magic and wonder, or to be twenty-eight and the lover of the girl. To be her mama.
I think the latter comes mightily close to perfection.
She seems aware of every bit of magic and tradition and meaningfulness which makes everyone in our family take extra measures to expose her to as much happiness as possible.
And then, girls, Santa has MAGICAL REINDEERS who can FLY and he parks them on TOP of everyone’s houses so he can deliver PRESENTS!
How did he know, Daddy? How did Santa KNOW I wanted this?
Our stockings were full up of love and belonging and even though Ella’s hair is showing more shades of auburn than we’d anticipated, at Christmas, it mattered not. At Christmas, we ate until we lay our heads on our hands at the dinner table and declared defeat.
Exactly as Christmas should be.
Christmas, this year, reminded me of the power motherhood holds. I am the matriarch of this little family’s traditions, and by golly I am going to make them good. So, we counted down the days until Christmas each morning with carols playing and little notes pointing out treasures hidden all throughout the house.
Our home was Christmas-filled. It oozed warm love and we spent the evenings under the glow of lights which made you feel as though you were in a different world.
Christmas Eve was spent with Oma and Pop and Ella’s Uncles who love her like crazy.
And she opened beautifully wrapped presents from everybody who loves her.
Some, she was not happy with.
It made me weepy to think of how many people love her.
On that note, I’m going to take this mushy old heart of mine and channel it into finishing some crafty things I’ve started for her first birthday party which I have realized, to my dismay, is less than eight weeks away.
How it’s arrived, the end of her first year of life, I’ll never know.
Needless to say, Joel eyes me with suspicion when I pull out glue and card. He becomes afraid.
It’s my thing, I tell him.
Celebrations are my thing.
I hope there is joy and love in every home in which these words fall.