June Cleaver in yoga pants

Zen parenting.

At Christmas time.

It's kind of antithetical really. Like. Direct. Opposite. Incompatible.

Can we blame the constant presence of candy in the house?

The lists which seem fun at first and by mid-December, with nothing marked off, seem plain mocking.

MOCKING I TELL YOU.

I have had the ingredients and the tab open for how to make salt dough Christmas ornaments for more than a week.

Yes, that's right folks, I am solidly into my annual Christmas I-Don't-Get-Enough-Cookie-Baking-And-Christmas-Crafting-Done-I-Am-A-Domestic-Failure breakdown.

I mean. It's tradition, right?

So. What do I do?

My solution this year (besides the occasional glass of wine at 3:38pm), to become extremely, incredibly, moment by moment myopic. Well, maybe that is the wrong word. According to the online dictionary myopia also means shortsighted, as in lack of imagination.

And dude, we need imagination in this. This thing called motherhood, especially at this time of year.

So, let's just be moment-livers. Extraordinarily so. Moment-livers and Moment-lovers. Every second. So right now, babies bounce around to cheesy Christmas music, whilst watching Curious George Christmas special on my phone (the baby screams MY PHONE MAMA and I hand it over. HAHA)

A few minutes ago the below was my moment, and I claim it for the day as my zen moment. I was supposed to be at a meeting at 11am but this happened instead. And he has been sick and his little voice is so sad. He will be two years old in just a few short months and moments like this will be done forever, watching my 11yr old gel his hair every morning before school I am keenly aware of how the years fly. Oh this baby boy. So yes, claiming it as my moment, lest the Christmas tree hunting venture up the mountain this afternoon turns less than picturesque, as often happens, I can have this moment.

And then the day winds down, and the sun sets fire to the ocean, and the lights on the lanai will shine, and the new tree will be up, and the babies tucked in, and so much, so much is glorious.

Maybe not always zen. But glorious for sure.