I flailed in the early years, anxiety swallowing all my joy. I wanted so desperately to be good at this, this motherhood thing, and I couldn’t find any evidence that I was.

And she does this thing lately where she punctuates the end of every statement with, “Mom, right?” Right? It comes out high and lilted, leaving a question mark dangling in the air. And it’s so much more than a question about accuracy.

Tonight he said, "Mom, I can see my own self in your eyes." Oh buddy, I hope so, because it's beautiful.

Christmas is about -- making mistakes and accepting forgiveness, seeing beauty in the things you already have, sacrificing yourself for the joy of others, and most importantly, Christmas is, and has always been, about people.

She just loves that I love her -- and sometimes, when I'm caught off-guard by that spectacular truth, it stuns me.