The Real Magic of Christmas

All of our children have their own email addresses (Mr. Miller’s clever idea!) and we, as parents, use them to send the occasional snippet, photograph, story or letter from their lives.

Every year, I always write to them on their birthday and each Christmas… but I also email them about the mundane, the everyday and the average. Ultimately, these are the little moments that easily slip past us and are forgotten — yet they are the moments that shape who we are and hold a quiet kind of magic when you look back.

Life isn’t about Insta-worthy photos, expensive days out or having all the treats. Sometimes, it’s mainly about just being.
In our case, yesterday was about listening to songs on the car radio and chatting about toy giraffes.

These are the moments I’ll miss the most.
The moments where they wanted to be with me, where they wanted to chat, where they had no inhibitions and were simply present. In the moment.

I hope I won’t lose these entirely when they turn into hormonal teenagers (both boys promised me yesterday they’d only live a few miles away so they could still come and huggle on the sofa with me and my dressing gown ), but I know that these little moments can pass us by. And it’s so important that we find time to celebrate the little things, rather than always worrying about how the big things compare. ❤️

Christmas is such a magical, manic time of year that it’s easy to get squashed by the pressure. I get it.

I scroll past hundreds of Insta-beautiful homes:
Perfect table settings adorned with eucalyptus and scented candles; serene gingerbread baking sessions with just a dusting of flour on the worktop and children smiling from ear to ear; Christmas cheer for all to hear.

And I have to remind myself — that isn’t real.
It may look beautiful, but it isn’t my reality.

Let me remind you:
Your children don’t have access to Instagram. They don’t see the perfect setups. They don’t worry about them. They focus on their reality.

Years from now, they won’t remember the toy they opened or the perfectly laid table.
They won’t remember the colour-coordinated wrapping or the money you spent getting everything “just right.”

They’ll remember the mundane.
The film on the sofa.
The walk in the snow.
The late night they were allowed to stay up.
Or simply the Cadbury's Heroes hidden in your pocket for a random treat.

This is enough for them.
This is what gets remembered.

And this, my dears, is the real magic of Christmas.