Christmas magic

About this time of year, every year, I start thinking about this time next year.
I am busy making plans and resolving for how I will do the holidays differently. They were good, but I can always see a way for improvement. A smoother way, more festive but slightly less exhausting and maybe even painless.

I will bake more goodies for friends and family. I will not drive across 3 counties (toting two toddlers plus all their accessories and consequently destroying any hope of normal sleep patterns) to see all our family in 18 hours. I will structure holiday gatherings around what works for my little people. I will tell my husband exactly what it is he should surprise me with on Christmas morning, so I do not receive the latest and greatest electronic gift that was hot on every one's list, except mine.

The problem is that soon after I make all these resolutions I forget them. I forget them long before December rolls around again and it is time to put them into action.

At which time, the same can of pureed pumpkin will still be in the cabinet ready to star in Aunt Bubbie's pumpkin chocolate chip bread. Come Christmas and it's eve, I will undoubtedly make those drives to Newberry, Richland & Lexington counties, taking my own disastrous car nap along the way. And when he asks, I will tell my husband, I really don't know what I want for Christmas.

By the time Christmas night rolls around & we are eating popcorn & left over ham for dinner at 10pm, with two over-tired, yet car nap refreshed toddlers bouncing around, I see that it could be better. So I plan.

But it turns out that the chaos I am trying to prevent, might actually have been the best part of the holiday. I thought it would be a quiet dinner with the hubby, the children all nestled in their beds. Instead, it is much like any other day, one kid insistent on wearing her new helmet while she climbs in and out of our laps at the table, the other playing the new drum set with his new tambourine, while daddy sets up mommy's new kindle fire.

Next December, I won't remember picking up popcorn kernels at 1am or the eventual meltdown. I will remember the joy in their eyes, as it crept into my heart. And the peace on their faces when they crashed.
Ahh, it is the magic of Christmas. Right? At least until next year.