If you still believe in Santa Claus, stop reading this right now. 😉
Since I’ve become a parent, from day one, the depth of my love and appreciation of my own mother grew by leaps and bounds. I began to understand all that she sacrificed and did for us on a daily basis. All the little things: putting shoes on thirty times a day; washing all the loads of laundry; making our Halloween costumes from scratch each year.
And now that I am Santa, along with my husband, I appreciate my mom on Christmas more than ever. Every year, she wrapped every single present for my two sisters and me. (I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in the whole Santa’s gifts are left out unwrapped. That just feels so WRONG.) She put thought into each gift, even the small ones in our stockings. One of my favorite Christmases was a white Christmas. I was probably around seven. It was the year I got both Dorothy’s ruby red slippers and a trick bike. These two gifts show that my mom was paying attention to me. I was a little bit girly, a little bit tomboy. I felt like Santa (my mom) really knew me.
She made a special breakfast each Christmas morning.
She hid a piece of special jewelry inside an ornament that we had to find.
But most of all, she believed. She really believed in the magic of Christmas and the spirit of giving.
Now I know how late she must have stayed up some of those Christmas nights (because while my father was there, she did it all). She probably barely got any sleep. And I never knew it.
I think there are so many rules for parents, especially mothers, these days. So many expectations. I guess I’m thankful to know how to do Christmas. She taught me so well. Christmas is magic and love and giving (and some chaos in between).
Thanks for all those late nights and early mornings, Mom. I remember them. I hope I can do as good a job as you did.