When I was younger, Christmas used to be exciting and crazy and over in a day. I remember it as a day that was always generally lovely and full of gifts, food, and my nutty family. I have always adored the traditions and goings on of the festive holiday. It’s a favorite.

What I’ve learned over the course of four Christmas holidays with children is that they make it a thousand times better. The laughter that echoes through their tiny bodies is unlike any other laughter through the year. Christmas joy is lingering and catching.  Lights, sounds, and smells are brighter, more vibrant, and miraculous when you see it through your child’s eyes.

Traditions mean so much more as the “mom” than it did as a child.  Something about bundling my kids up and knowing what is in store for them as we drive through normally darken streets to look at shimmering lights, or seeing them open a gift from Santa- it is so special.

I don’t receive gifts anymore. Or, I don’t receive as I once did. Now, my gifts are extra snuggles, long hugs, and excited squeals. My sweet peach offered to share a baby doll with me and my lovely monkey drew me a lovely picture for my office wall. These small gifts mean everything to me now.

Christmas now consumes me for at least a month (this explains my brief absence from my blog, as well). I decorate, I gift wrap, I plan, scheme, and bake. There’s five Christmas celebrations in our family, five long, present filled days, five no nap days. It’s a lot of candy, a lot of gifts, and a lot of family.

It’s not all perfect and polished, but I would trade it for nothing.