Growing up, I remember begrudginly going along with anything that referenced any type of "tradition". I tried to pretend it didn't matter, that I didn't care, that I didn't need it.
When in all actuality, I did.
Like the year my mom bought me a chocolate cake for my birthday. I was 9 and I hate chocolate cake. I cried about it.
Mom never made that mistake again.
Now that I'm a mother, Christmas and traditions mean even more to me. I've spent time recalling the tradtions that meant so much to me: decorating the tree, singing Christmas carols and opeining stockings first thing Christmas morning.
And I've added a few more now that it's my turn to make childhood memories: Christmas Pajamas, Elf Hunting, and Advent Books.
One of my most favorite traditions was the opening of one present on Christmas Eve. It felt so magical. Like we were allowed to peak inside the treasure chest of what was to come. Of course I was going to continue this with Isla June.
A tradition passed down from my grandmother: reading the story of Jesus' birth and setting up the Nativity on Christmas Eve. It's a little bit updated as we read from the IPad and not from the Bible :)
I hope these memeories will mean as much to Isla June one day.