Mama, You Are the Magic

Is it just me? Or is there so much pressure to make our kid’s lives feel magical these days?

Like it’s not enough that I feed them, clothe them, educate them, and love them with my whole being. I’m also supposed to make sure the tooth fairy shows up every couple of weeks with tiny hand-written notes, glitter, and cash. (Really? I never carry cash. Where is she supposed to get those small bills?) Then there are those gosh darn elves! Yes, we have two. They make magical mornings and tired parents for the whole month of December! I need a coffee just thinking about it! I’m supposed to invite a leprechaun into our home every March, followed by a gift-bearing bunny who orchestrates elaborate scavenger hunts. I’m sure I’m forgetting or omitting some other piece of childhood magic, wonder, and delight. It’s all so much to keep up with!

I was thinking about all the magic we, as moms, make. And I came to the conclusion that these silly little traditions are the absolute least of it.

We are the magic in our families!

I am magic. Not because our elves or leprechaun could go viral on Instagram or Pinterest. They are barely showing up. You see, my body grew my two favorite humans inside and delivered them into my arms . . . like magic! My breasts made the milk that sustained them . . . like magic! My embrace and my voice soothed them better than anyone in this world. I made magic for my babies.

Then they grew. There was magic in the silly read-aloud voices that their mama invented.  There was magic in the way I could make them feel better by sealing the band-aid with a kiss. There was magic in the way that reaching for my hand and knowing it would hold theirs made them feel safe.

My kids won’t grow up and say their childhood was magical because we had the best elves or an epic Easter bunny.

But they may just recall all the times I called for them to join me in our driveway in their bare feet and pajamas to soak in a particularly breathtaking New Mexico sunset or a rainbow that arced all the way across the sky. They’ll remember how magical it felt to run out into the summer rain and dance with their mama, feeling wild and free. Or that we’d sometimes play headphone karaoke in our living room, leaving our throats sore from belting out our favorite songs and our cheeks aching from laughing so hard. You see, in our house, we look for moments of magic in the world around us. It’s abundant!

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They don’t need me to be Pinterest perfect. They just need me to be present.

Our tooth fairy is always late and has never left anything more than four quarters. Our leprechaun usually doesn’t do much more than turn the milk or toilet water green. But I’m going to stop beating myself up for not being one of those moms that MAKES magic for her kids.

Because if I just keep showing up for them, I AM the magic.

The opinions expressed in this post are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of ABQ Mom, its executive team, other contributors to the site, its sponsors or partners, or any organizations the aforementioned might be affiliated with.