Creating Christmas Magic 🎄

And trying not to stress myself out in the process

This is not my baby’s first Christmas, but it is my toddler’s first Christmas. Last year, he was seven months old. He vaguely appreciated the lights on the tree and enjoyed the crinkling sound of the wrapping paper, but that’s about it. This year, the magic begins. He’s been enjoying Christmas music, recognizes Santa (“ho ho ho! merry cripma”), and a recent trip to our local garden center, which has transformed into a festive wonderland, elicited more “WOW!”s than you could shake a stick at.

I am so excited for this aspect of parenthood. I remember the excitement and wonder of childhood Christmases so vividly, and now I get to experience it all again from the other side (as a parent, I mean, not the Ghost of Christmas Past). I’ve been thinking a lot about traditions - what experiences I want to pass down from my childhood, and what new traditions I want to create for my own family. I have a long list, from baking cookies and creating advent calendars, to watching Christmas movies and making our own tree ornaments.

Isn’t it incredible to have the power to do this? To have a hand in shaping and texturizing a child’s most special and formative memories? But with great power comes great responsibility (thanks Spiderman), and I know I must tread carefully here. I don’t want to sacrifice actual joy for the sake of some unattainable ideal. I don’t want to become so obsessed with creating the “perfect” holiday season that I radiate enough stress to trigger a seismic event.

Social media makes this hard. This time of year, everywhere you turn, you have influencers and celebrities posting their picture perfect houses, halls decked to the nines, while immaculately dressed children smile angelically at the camera. I can’t get my toddler to sit still for more than .05 of a second, let alone get him to smile on command. Then you have the outings. Everything is sold as an “experience” these days. Selecting the perfect Christmas tree, visits to Santa, multi-day trips to Center Parcs or even Lapland. It’s hard not to get wrapped up in all this, I want to do it ALL.

However, I saw a post by @murphys_sketches on Instagram this morning that helped provide some perspective. It says “All of my favorite Christmas memories from my childhood happened in my house. If you think back I bet yours did too. Don’t be hard on yourself if you don’t have any extravagant plans this festive season. Most of the magic happens at home. Give yourself a break, you’re doing enough.”

murphys_sketches

A post shared by @murphys_sketches

So true, bestie.

When I think about my favourite Christmas memories, it’s always the simple things that stand out. Snuggling on the couch watching a Christmas movie with my siblings, prepping some carrots and a bowl of sugar for Santa’s reindeer on Christmas Eve, scarfing half a selection box before sunrise on Christmas morning, sharing truly terrible cracker jokes while wearing ridiculous paper crowns, playing charades with my cousins, exchanging gifts with my family (we’re a one-by-one house, sorrynotsorry). Family and food, is what it mostly boils down to. And of course, some truly epic Christmas bangers.

Also, my kid is still tiny. We have years of Christmas magic ahead of us, I don’t need to try and cram it all in THIS year. Or any other given year for that matter. Personally, I find it difficult to remember one specific Christmas (save, perhaps, the year my brother and I received Furbies - that was a good year). It’s about the cumulative experience, the beautiful mosaic of memories melded together over time. The indefinable feeling that Christmastime evokes.

Dah doo-ay wah!

I will, however, be squirreling away some money for that future trip to Lapland. My inner child (if not my actual child) demands it.

Until then, I'll try to focus on the quieter magic of small moments—the Christmas tree lights reflected in my toddler’s eyes, the crinkle and tear of wrapping paper, and the chaos of Christmas dinner with the extended family, paper crowns perched jauntily on our heads. Merry Cripma, everyone!