Hey beautiful souls... your girl is back with some Christmas realness that might make you cry, laugh, and question everything you thought you knew about this holiday.

Y'all, I need to tell you about Christmas 2024. Not the Instagram version: the REAL version. The one with McDonald's Happy Meal toys on a Christmas tree, a seven-hour assembly disaster, and a breakdown so ugly it could've won awards.

But first, let me back up.

The Christmas I Wasn't Ready For

This was my first Christmas without both parents, and honey... I thought I was prepared. I thought I had it all figured out. I'd done my Thanksgiving processing, worked through some grief, and felt like I could handle one more holiday.

Insert record scratch here.

Christmas hit different. Maybe it was the pressure to create "magic" for my three-year-old, or maybe it was realizing that all those Christmas traditions I took for granted were actually my parents' traditions, and now I had to figure out what Christmas looked like when it was just us.

The Historical Reckoning (Because Research Will Set You Free... And Mess You Up)

So naturally, because I can't leave well enough alone, I decided to do some historical digging about Christmas. Y'all... WHY did I do that to myself in December?

Here's what I learned: Christmas as we know it? Pretty much made up. Jesus probably wasn't born in December (more like spring or fall), the gift-giving tradition got co-opted from various pagan celebrations, and don't even get me started on how commercialized the whole thing became.

Deep breath.

The winter solstice celebrations, Saturnalia, Yule traditions: all of these beautiful, ancient ways of celebrating light in darkness got rolled into what we now call Christmas. And while there's beauty in that blending, it also made me question: What am I actually celebrating here?

The Tree Situation

So there I was, having an existential crisis about Christmas, and my daughter walks up to me and says, "Mommy, can we get a tree? I want to make it pretty."

And y'all... how do you explain to a three-year-old that you're questioning the entire foundation of Christmas? You don't. You get the tree.

But here's where it gets good: Instead of buying new ornaments and trying to recreate some Pinterest-perfect Christmas tree, I let her decorate it herself. With whatever she wanted.

The result? A tree decorated with:

Her old sunglasses (because "the tree needs to look cool, Mommy")

Recycled toys from around the house

Baby Shark Hair bows that one of her Godmoms gave her for Christmas 

McDonald's Happy Meal toys (don't judge me, we all have survival meals)

Some craft supplies we had lying around

A few ornaments I made from natural materials we collected on our walks

Was it magazine-worthy? Absolutely not. Was it the most beautiful tree I'd ever seen? Absolutely yes.

Watching her joy as she carefully placed each "ornament" made me realize something: The magic isn't in the perfection. It's in the intention, the love, the presence.

The Play Tent Disaster (And the Lesson That Almost Broke Me)

Now, let me tell you about the gift situation. My daughter's godfather got her this amazing Play Tent  this exact one and I was SO excited to surprise her with it on Christmas morning.

Y'all... I started putting this thing together on Christmas Eve. How hard could it be, right? It's a Play Tent for a three-year-old.

SEVEN HOURS LATER, I was sitting in a pile of plastic pieces, incomprehensible instructions, and my own tears, questioning every life choice that led me to this moment.

The instructions made no sense. Nothing was fitting together right. I was missing pieces that I definitely wasn't missing. I felt like I was failing at something as simple as building a toy for my baby.

And then it happened: the breakdown. Right there in the middle of my living room, surrounded by Play Tent chaos, I just... lost it. Ugly cry, snot-running-down-my-face, "I-can't-do-this-alone" lost it.

The Perspective Shift That Changed Everything

But here's where the magic happened (and not the Christmas kind: the LIFE kind):

As I was sitting there in my puddle of defeat, I looked at those instructions again. And y'all... I had been reading them wrong the ENTIRE time. The translation was backwards: the last step was actually the first step, and the first step was actually the last.

I had to do it backwards.

Once I figured that out? Fifteen minutes. FIFTEEN MINUTES and that tent was standing tall and beautiful, ready for Christmas morning magic.

And as I sat there, adding the little lights to the top of it, anticipating my daughter's reaction in just a few hours, the lesson hit me like lightning:

Sometimes the instructions for life are backwards too. Sometimes what looks like the end is actually the beginning. Sometimes you have to approach things from a completely different perspective.

This year, losing my parents, questioning traditions, building new ones, maybe I've been reading the instructions wrong. Maybe what feels like falling apart is actually the first step in building something new.

Christmas Morning Magic (The Kind Money Can't Buy)

Christmas morning came, and y'all... when my daughter saw that dollhouse, she SQUEALED. Like, really squealed. When was the last time you heard that sound? Pure, unfiltered JOY.

The way my heart swelled in that moment, I can't even describe it. All those hours of struggle, all that crying, all that questioning... it was worth it for that squeal.

But here's what really got me: She was just as excited about the tree decorated with Happy Meal toys. Just as thrilled with the recycled gift wrap we made from brown paper bags and her artwork. Just as happy with our simple, imperfect, non-traditional Christmas.

The magic wasn't in getting it "right." The magic was in showing up, even when I didn't know what I was doing.

The Vow That's Changing Everything

As I sat in that slightly lopsided dollhouse (yes, it's a little crooked, don't @ me), watching my daughter arrange her little dolls for their first tea party, I made a vow:

I'm not waiting until Christmas to bring this magic to her. I'm bringing it all year long... just because.

Not because it's a holiday, not because I'm supposed to, but because I can. Because joy doesn't need a calendar date. Because magic is something we create, not something we wait for.

The Christmas Lessons That Will Carry Me Into 2025

Sitting in that Tent, she calls her "House"  (yes, I fit, with room to stretch out), I realized some things:

I did it alone. Seven hours, one breakdown, and countless tears later, I got through it. And there was beauty on the other side.

Perspective is everything. Sometimes you have to flip the instructions, question the process, and try a completely different approach.

Imperfect is perfect. That lopsided Playhouse is going to be the site of countless tea parties, naps, and memories. The "flaws" make it ours.

Joy is a choice. My daughter doesn't know our Christmas was "unconventional." She just knows it was magical because we made it magical.

Traditions are meant to evolve. We don't have to do things the way they've always been done. We can honor the past while creating something new.

What Christmas Means to Us Now

So what does Christmas mean in our house now? It's not about the historical accuracy or the commercialization or even the religious significance (though we respect all of those perspectives).

For us, Christmas is about:

Light in the darkness (literally and figuratively)

Creating magic for no reason other than love

Building something beautiful together, even when we don't know what we're doing

Finding joy in the imperfect, the recycled, the homemade

Showing up for each other, especially when it's hard

The Future Tea Parties

Now we have this little house, crooked but sturdy, where future tea parties will happen, where naps will be taken, where imagination will run wild.

Every time I look at it, I'm reminded that I can build something beautiful, even when I'm reading the instructions wrong. Even when I'm doing it alone. Even when I have no idea what I'm doing.

And isn't that just life? We're all just building our little houses, following instructions that don't always make sense, having breakdowns in the middle of the process, and somehow creating magic anyway.

The Gratitude That Emerged from Chaos

This Christmas taught me a different kind of gratitude:

Grateful for breakdowns that lead to breakthroughs

Grateful for daughters who find magic in McDonald's toys.

Grateful for godfathers who give gifts that require seven hours and therapy to assemble

Grateful for the strength I didn't know I had until I had to use it

Grateful for imperfect traditions that are perfectly ours

Grateful for the realization that I can create whatever Christmas I want

Grateful for simple joys that don't require perfect execution

Looking Ahead to 2025

That lesson from the Play Tent instructions? It's setting the tone for this next year. When things don't make sense, when I feel like I'm failing, when the instructions seem backwards,  I'm going to remember that sometimes you have to flip your perspective.

Sometimes what looks like the end is actually the beginning.

Sometimes the breakdown is actually the breakthrough.

Sometimes you have to build it backwards to get it right.

The Magic We're Creating All Year Long

True to my vow, we've already started our year-round magic:

Random surprise mornings where I wake her up with a treasure hunt around the house

"Just because" tea parties in the slightly lopsided Play Tent "House"

Magic Monday where we do something special for no reason

Nature celebrations for things like the first flowers of spring or a particularly beautiful sunset

Gratitude games that don't require a holiday to inspire them

Because here's what I learned: The magic was never in the date on the calendar. It was always in our choice to show up, to create, to find joy in the ordinary.

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So here's my question for you, beautiful souls: What instructions in your life might you be reading backwards? What would happen if you flipped your perspective on something that's been frustrating you? And how are you creating magic beyond the calendar dates?

Share your thoughts below,  because honestly, we're all just out here trying to build our dollhouses, and sometimes we need to remind each other that it's okay if they're a little lopsided.

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If you're navigating holidays without loved ones, questioning traditions that don't serve you anymore, or just trying to create magic in the midst of chaos, you're not alone. Subscribe to my newsletter for more honest conversations about the beautiful mess of building a life that feels authentic to you.

P.S. That dollhouse is still standing strong, hosting daily tea parties and the occasional adult breakdown. Some of the best things in life require patience, perspective shifts, and the willingness to cry in the middle of your living room. Don't forget that.