I sit here with a sleeping baby in my arms, a jazzy version of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” playing through the t.v. radio. The rains have finally gone leaving a sunny, but chilly morning. I have the back door a jar and can feel the crisp air flow into the warm room. There’s a coffee cake Ellie and I made this morning (Ellie strapped to me in the Ergo of course), baking in the oven, filling the house with cinnamon smells. All of these festive sounds and smells give me a nostalgic feeling. I sit here staring at my new baby, thinking of my childhood Christmas’. The Christmas candy, the stockings my Grandmother made, the little wooden nativities hand carved by a neighbor in Hawaii. And later as I grew older, the choir shows, the get togethers with friends. These are all things I want of my own. I am no longer a child filled with the magical feeling that this season brings to children; I am an adult, a mother, who gets to create brand new memories with my own daughter. I get new magic. The magic of seeing through a child’s eyes. She’s much too young to know her first Christmas but I’ll remember. This is the beginning, the beginning of the magic I so missed but slowly and surely will get back.