Tis the season to be sappy, fa la la la la, la la la la

The holidays reduce me to a sappy glob of melting woman. I suspect I was always a bit like this, but being a mom increased it significantly. Now I’m just a happy disaster. Sigh. 

Christmas, or the Christmas holiday season, now has special meaning for me. For those of you that don’t know why, here’s the cliff notes version. 

1-      My kids are December babies.

2-      Their start to life was pretty rough, as they weren’t really ready to be born when they were.

3-      Their first Christmas, and my first Christmas as a mom, was spent in a NICU where I watched my tiny and unstable babies try to learn to breathe. Really not fun.  Wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. 

It should not come as a shock that these images will never erase from my mind or my heart, no matter how much time passes. They are permanent, as they should be. 

The other night, my husband and I took out our Christmas decorations after the kids went to bed. We contemplated having them “help” but decided against it. We decided to do everything except decorating the tree and let them help with our newly acquired shatter proof ornaments. Turned out to be a great plan, in all respects. 

When the kids came downstairs the next morning, they went nuts. Seriously nuts. My son stood, feet planted, eyes huge, pointing at the tree… exclaiming “Mommy, it’s a Christmas tree!”. He couldn’t believe it was in HIS kitchen. No way! 

My daughter first noticed the tinsel on the banister and had to be coaxed past the front hallway, persuaded to move to the kitchen. She kept exclaiming, “Mommy, we have decorations in the house!” with eyes aglow, mouth in a gigantic grin. When she saw the tree, I swear I heard angels singing. 

Then they found the singing, candle holding (battery operated) Santa we acquired last year in the sales. As they stood before it, their enchanted faces adorned in the light reflecting off the candle, I began to cry. You know… that cry that comes from so much happiness in your chest that you can’t hold it back. 

I’m not one to persist in negative thought and I certainly don’t spend all day every day worried about my children’s rocky start.  Around the holiday time, however, it’s hard to avoid. My children are turning 4 and they are perfect. Ok, not perfect. Beautifully imperfect. Smart enough to piss me off, active enough to make shopping difficult and determined and independent enough to not follow directions at inconvenient moments. 

You know, normal kids. What an absolute blessing. 

So I stood there, crying and smiling. My kids tilted their heads, perplexed, when they noticed me. Huh? Why’s mommy crying? Hmm… whatever. Mom’s just crazy. Let’s play with Santa some more.

Merry Christmas to me.