I’ve had my kids’ Christmas pajamas picked out since September.
I know, I know—that may be a little “extra” of me, as the cool kids say. But honestly? I can’t help it. I am that mom.
I’m the mom who asks her kids what they want to be for Halloween in July.
The mom who has a Target dollar spot banner for every holiday, ever, and tubs of random decorations made and picked out by my littles.
The one with a Pinterest board of festive crafts, snacks, and activities—and even though they never turn out even close to how they’re supposed to, you better believe we give them a shot.
I’m the mom who spends the first week of November tracing tiny hands so we have construction paper turkeys to hang around the house all month long.
The mom who sneaks into her sleeping kids’ bedrooms the night of November 30th and decorates every inch—so they can wake up to an explosion of Christmas the next morning and feel those warm holiday fuzzies all the way down to their toes.
The one who can’t wait to bundle everyone up and trudge out into the snow to find the perfect Christmas tree to take home.
The one who buys party hats and kazoos and plastic champagne glasses and sparkling cider and drops golden balloons from the balcony on New Year’s Eve.
I’m the mom who anticipates this season every year—not for the extravagance, but for the togetherness, traditions, and memories.
“You’re crazy about the holidays,” my husband says each year with a smirk. And he’s not wrong.
Yes, I go all out for the holidays. Because these kids of mine? They’ll only be this little once, and I want to soak up every last drop of wide-eyed, magical, holiday wonder while they’re still young enough to believe in it all.
I know the memories we’re making during these years are truly priceless.
As long as I live, I’ll never forget the sound of belly giggles as we all dance to the Monster Mash, or the way our toddler’s eyes dance when she wakes to find her Elf on the Shelf has returned from the North Pole, or the excitement in our four-year-old’s voice telling me he had a dream he was on Santa’s sleigh helping him deliver presents. “Do you think that could ever really happen, Mama? Do you?”
The joy radiating from their little hearts brings so much light to an otherwise complicated world, and I am here for it.
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As the years go by, our kids will probably be less and less into the family holiday shenanigans I have planned for them.
They’ll decide they’re too old to dress up for Halloween.
They’ll make plans to watch football with friends after Thanksgiving dinner has ended.
They’ll roll their eyes when I suggest we decorate a gingerbread house or ask them to watch the classic Rudolph or Frosty movies with me.
They’ll trade their enthusiastic 5 a.m. Christmas morning wake-ups for sleeping in until noon.
And even though I know losing some of that excitement is a normal part of growing up, for now, I want to savor every bit.
So I’ll continue being over the top. I’ll keep on decorating and baking and planning and singing and dancing and cuddling and creating traditions.
I want the magic inside these babies of mine to seep into the air and remind us all that sometimes, life really can be as simple and wonderful as it is when you’re a kid during the holiday season.
As a mom, I get to be the magic maker for my littles—but they’ll never know just how magical they make the holidays for me.