Gratitude for Making Memories

The holidays are tricky for me emotionally; they're hit or miss every year.

Christmas is my favorite time of year. I'm in my pajamas as I write this. Decorative lights from the neighbor's house across the street are glistening out of the corner of my eye. I made a cup of masala chai tea before plopping down at the dining room table—tired but eager to recount the gratitude of the week. My now lukewarm chai is in my new favorite snowman mug, and sipping it brings me just as much joy as today itself.

The holidays are tricky for me emotionally; they're hit or miss every year. Some years I am stoked for the impending joy around the corner, and others not so much. This year felt good and exciting. My husband and I have started our own special traditions with the kids—ones that we never had growing up. Figuring out what works best for us and what memories we want to create is liberating. Our family has changed and grown over the past few years, and I'm proud of us for the simple yet meaningful rituals we're starting. We did elf on the shelf with our toddlers this year, and it was beyond fun to see their excitement and enthusiasm.

Something that makes me incredibly grateful for this time of year is the intentional bonding I get to do with my kids through baking. I love to bake, and it's a treat to have my kids alongside me, spilling flour, cracking eggs, sprinkling sugar, and begging to taste the batter. My 3-year-old and I made sugar cookies for Santa, and my other two daughters (one 14 and one 2) did the taste testing. It warmed my heart to see my three girls at the island in our kitchen enjoying a treat that seemed extra magical. I felt so much gratitude watching them munch on the homemade buttery cookies, licking off the icing and nibbling at the sprinkles—smiling and giggling.

I couldn't help but think, "Wow, what a life we have."

Growing up as an only child, it's overwhelming for me to see my daughters together as sisters. I never thought that life could feel this full or that love could run this deep. My three-year-old, even when getting on her big sister's nerves, looks at her and says, "I love you so much." And each time, I want to cry. Not knowing this closeness or this type of bond makes me feel a lot of feelings at once, both deep gratitude for what they have and excruciating grief for what I didn't. My girls have each other regardless of what I did or didn't have growing up, which is radically special and meaningful to me as their mother. As they all grow and become even more of themselves, I hope they remember their sisterhood is sacred. There are so many memories that I pray they hold close, like baking for Santa with mama, frosting on the tips of their noses, and deep belly laughs about how silly they look with sprinkles on their faces.

I am grateful for the little things and big memories that we are building in this house. May they continue to flourish and be cherished for years to come.

Merry Christmas, friends.

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