My hotel room isn’t quiet. Beside me, my husband is snoring softly between bouts of rolling over.
My daughter, in the bed next to ours, is breathing steadily, her hand raised over her beautiful, flushed face, with her babydoll cradled in her other arm.
My son is lying next to her, snoring louder than his daddy, with his police car clutched in his hands. Thankfully, this one doesn’t have a working siren.
I’m still awake, preparing the adventures we will encounter tomorrow. While my loves snooze, I am plotting and planning all the joy-filled moments I hope we experience as a family tomorrow morning.
I am the magic my kids experience.
The wonderful family memories I hope they take into adulthood are carefully crafted by me.
Whether it’s Christmas or their birthdays or vacation—those moments of wonder only happen because I make sure they do. I create the momma magic. I solve their problems, I help them find joy, and I shape their childhoods with amazement.
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It brings me joy to watch their faces light up when we experience incredible adventures. My greatest gifts are watching them open the most wonderful presents and encounter awesome things. My son takes great pleasure out of the simplest things, and I love watching him experience the world around him and see things he has never seen before.
Being the momma magic is a wonderful burden.
I love it, but it also is very stressful. I always feel like I have to make everything, even the mundane weekdays, something special. I feel like I have to go above and beyond all the time. It’s a blessing to see their smiles, but it also takes a lot of effort to create magical moments.
It’s so worth it, though. It’s worth the sleepless nights. It’s worth the time and energy. I’d give anything to see the joy bursting from their little faces when they experience something amazing.
I hope I can always create the sense of wonder and awe they demonstrate today. I hope they’ll always find joy in our day-to-day lives. I hope they will someday tell their kids about some of the incredible experiences we shared during their childhoods.
I know I can’t make their lives perfect, but if I can plant the seeds of joy in their fertile soil, maybe a joyful adulthood will also blossom.
Maybe the magic of their childhoods will seep into adulthood, and the world won’t be such a cold place.
Maybe their happiness will spread to others.
They have no idea it is me behind the scenes orchestrating every trip, every holiday, every magical experience. When they wake up tomorrow and they see what I have planned, their eyes will shine with wonder, taking everything in, as if it happened by magic. And to them, it did. It is magic. Momma magic.