Do you remember what Christmas was like when we were kids? The excitement of being allowed to stay up til the wee hours of the morning, the constant clatter of spoons and forks on dishes, the chitter chatter of grown-ups about boring grown up things. You and your cousins run about the place unmonitored, giggling about dumb kid things and playing whatever made up games come to mind. The house is brightly lit, with a giant tree all aglow with tiny yellow lights and shiny decorative balls. The bottom of the tree is overflowing with presents, wrapped with cheery paper and ribbons, and you can’t wait to find out which ones belong to you. The air is filled with the scent of roasting chicken or cinnamony desserts. The night feels constantly early and never-ending. The whole thing wraps you up in a warm, cozy embrace, and your head is abuzz with this feeling that only comes during the holidays. Christmas as a kid is the best time of the year and you always wished it didn’t have to end.

It’s not quite the same when you get older. When the responsibility of gift-giving and wrapping and planning and budgeting now falls on your shoulders, the magic wears off a little bit. It becomes a series of to-do lists and parking lot meltdowns from overstimulation. The lights and decorations and beautiful Christmas pastries still make you feel fuzzy on the inside, but they’re fleeting moments now, all too soon replaced by tasks you haven’t checked off your list. It does get a little bit better when you have kids, because there’s a sense of vicarious living. You’re excited because they are excited, and that happy glimmer in their eyes makes you feel happy too. You’re trying to pass on the Christmas magic now, hoping it feels just as wonderful and cozy to them as it did to you all those years ago.

I think this is where I am finding myself these days. This year hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park and I’m still feeling quite exhausted, and the idea of shopping and merry-making feels a bit like a chore. So I’ve been trying to find ways to bring back that childlike wonder of Christmas, because I always want my kids to have happy, glittery memories to relive when they’re older, the way I do. It’s funny isn’t it — the business of magic isn’t really very magical for the ones trying to conjure it up. Happy kids always makes it worth it though.

As a Christian household, our main focus is the birth of Jesus; we try our best not to make it just about the gifts and merry-making. We tell stories about our reason for celebrating, why the joy isn’t from the material presents but from the ultimate gift: Jesus. But I understand that kids don’t grasp that concept in its entirety, and whether we like it or not, it’s the presents under the tree that they’re really excited about. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, for littles to look forward to a time in the year when they are filled with happiness and gratitude for all the blessings they receive. I believe kids should always have magic in their childhood. We all know we lose it when we get older, and it’s helpful when you have something to look back on; a reminder of a time when life was simpler and carefree. Sometimes, that’s what you need to help you get on with it—the reminder that magic still exists in life, even if it’s in smaller ways.

We have a few traditions that we do every Christmas eve: we spend it with my parents, watch a family Christmas movie, drive around to look at the lights and decor on other houses, noche buena, gift opening at midnight. Christmas day is spent with my husband’s family, eating more and lazing around, enjoying the slowness. Every year we’re looking for new traditions to either add or replace things as the kids get older. I hope they hold on to that special feeling, and look forward to it, for a very long time.

Now that I’m approaching my middle-age years, I’m realizing that no one is making the magic for me anymore. I’m the magic-maker now, and that’s a joyful thing. The reason I can’t seem to find that old feeling is because it lives in nostalgia, and I have to place myself squarely here in the present. The magic is in the eyes of my kids, in their laughter, in the face of my husband who will hopefully like the present I have yet to buy for him. It’s in the fact that I still have both parents to spend it with, and hope to spend many more with them. It’s in the life we’ve built for ourselves, and the friends and family that are the pillars of it.

This isn’t the last time it’s going to change for me, I’m sure. When we reach another season in our life (older, less interested kids, or the inevitable loss of a parent perhaps), we’ll have to find new ways to add that magic into this season. It doesn’t have to go away if I learn to adapt. That Christmas feeling from my childhood is just that now—a feeling, a good memory, a happy time long gone. We’ll have to constantly make new ones, not just for my kids, but for myself. Thankfully, joy is a feeling that’s available all year long, rooted on the one gift that no one else can give: love made flesh, and eternity made attainable.