I’ve been thinking about this post for a long time now. The New Year’s Eve post. It’s supposed to be all deep and emotional. All wise and mature. But I don’t have any of that. I only have what I know.
- I know that 2014 was an amazing year for my business. I was able to document so many moments for so many people, and I am endlessly thankful for this business that I have created along with some amazing clients. Without my couples I would have nothing. I wouldn’t be able to capture beautiful moments and gorgeous memories. So, to them, thank you. Thank you for allowing 2014 to be so amazing for me.
- Sadly though, I know that while my business flourished, my personal life floundered.
- I know that emotionally, 2014, 2013, and 2012 have been the most difficult years on my marriage, on my family, and on me.
- I know that I love my husband with the force of my entire soul.
- I know that my children are healthy, and that without their health, I wouldn’t survive.
- But what I know most is that 2015 is going to be better. It has to be.
Brody. There’s no rhyme or reason to this post. It’s not your birthday. I don’t have a reason to write a post about you right now, except for the fact that you are basically everything. You’re in this phase where you can do no wrong, even though you are such a shit most days. You get into trouble, yet can somehow get away with it just by smiling at me or your dad. You’ve got us wrapped around your finger. Tightly wrapped, that is.
Tonight at bed time you made us laugh so hard. Griffin was being put into his pajamas; which he was fighting against. I was putting him into his Mickey soft-footed pajamas that I purchased for our trip to Disneyland. I was sure he would love said pajamas, but he doesn’t. Come to find out he hates the little rubbery knobs on the bottom of his feet that prevent him from slipping. Hates them… something fierce. But I forced him into the pajamas anyway. He was crying… and through his tears he said, “Mawwwm, I don’t wanna wear deez! People will wook at me, and dey will waugh at me!” I responded, “Griffy, nobody is going to laugh at you. I just need you to wear these thick jammies because your room gets so cold at night.” He continued to cry, and wailed again that people would laugh at him. On cue, you appeared, and you pointed at him and laughed. It was a fake laugh. Like you were a 15 year old taunting your brother for his outfit on picture day. It was perfection.
Your brother continued wailing… and then you chased him, pointing your finger and laughing your fake evil laugh, and he cried harder… because he’s sensitive like that. Your dad and I laughed, too. Riotously. It wasn’t the right move to make as a parent. We should have protected Griffin from you and your incessant teasing, but we didn’t. We laughed hysterically at your comedic timing, but more so at your shit-headed-ness.
I’m proud of you, my love. You’re going to get far in life.
Photo Credit :: Janelle Addis Photography
Growing up, you would have never been able to convince me of this… but there actually is something better than being a kid on Christmas morning. Don’t get me wrong, being a kid on Christmas morning is probably one of the most care free, magical, and wonderful feelings that I have ever felt. But I am convinced now that being a parent on Christmas morning is actually more amazing.
As a child, the magic just happened, out of nowhere. You took the magic at face value, and never questioned its existence. We all know now that it was actually our parents making it happen, but as a child your blinders are on, and you are zoned into just making it until at least 3am on Christmas morning when you could finally bound from your bed, head first into your stocking stuffers.
As a parent, you create the magic. You watch Christmas happen every single day. You watch your youngest child learning from the older… you watch the belief in Santa Clause consume their hearts. You sit back and give out morsels of information about the North Pole, the rules of making it onto Santa’s good list, and Rudolph’s nose. Even though Christmas is something way bigger than we are… we cultivate our children’s minds to believe. And that cultivation leads us to witnessing the magic twice. Once as we create it… and then again as we see it settling onto their little faces. And all of this happens **before** 3am on Christmas morning.
Christmas morning for children is the pinnacle. They have steadfastly eaten their advent chocolate for the 1st… 2nd.. 7th… 18th… days of December. They have been mindful of their good and bad behavior. They have done their time.
But for a parent, Christmas morning has been a beacon of light at the end of the magic tunnel. It is the first morning of several where we are finally off-duty. And we can bask in the glow of every ounce of magic we have created. In all of its glory.
So as I type this on Christmas Eve at 9:00pm… I wish all of you a very Merry Christmas morning.