A Mother & Christmas

How does a mother get into the Christmas spirit with an infant?   

Mornings start off routine. Rushing to get yourself ready, heating up a bottle, taking the dog out, turning on the TV to the Today Show to get a little bit of sanity before an adult day, and organizing lunch because you surely didn’t get to it the night before, of course not. Scribbling a love note to stick into your husbands lunch box, to remind him you aren’t crazy and still love him. Then, you have a baby smile at you through the cracks of her crib, smiling at the sight of her mama. Mornings are routine certainly, but priceless.

Then, work. That’s all.

At 5:20ish you race to pick up your happy baby, silently praying the teacher doesn’t tell you something you failed miserably at as a parent for that day. Only to be one of the last mothers to pick up your child. Guilty. You trip over your heels to put on the blue booties, because germs clearly don’t get to them anyways. Then you watch your little girl crawl to you with a huge grin, ready to go home, and your day is made. Simple as that.

Days are chaotic. I strive to be the best mom and wife imaginable. Making baby food, cooking dinner, playing with my daughter and making her giggle, hand crafting stockings to keep up with the crafty moms. Bath time, bed time. Late night check-ins to ensure she is resting peacefully. When does any mother have time for Christmas?

What I’m trying to do, really hard, is imagine her face when she crawls to the Christmas tree on her first Christmas morning, to the toys that Santa has left for her. The giggles when she hears Christmas music playing while I cook a breakfast casserole. The joy on her face to have people around her who love her, who squeeze her with delight. That’s how I am trying to make time for Christmas.

The gifts, the burlap stockings, the banister and mantle decorated with twinkling lights. Obsessively worrying about how my tree, for the first time ever, has not been up and sparkling at the time of the tree lighting in NY. I’m settling on the Christmas station that plays static basically to represent the most happiest season of all. All for what? To stress about pine needles covering my freshly swiffered (new word) hardwood floors? I do it all, we as mothers do it all, because of our children.

So as I sit here, staring at my hot glue gun, wondering if I should tackle another burlap stocking, I reflect on Christmas. Birth, miracles, hope, love, faith, and baby giggles. It is so easy to not be in the Christmas spirit, but what would that make me? The grinch? A mother? The holidays are supposed to be a time with family, laughter, stress. Witnessing a little baby turn into a little girl, kind of. Christmas is just what it is supposed to be and somewhere, deep down, it always comes back to me. Joy.

You can read more from Katie over on her blog or here!