Waking up on Christmas morning each year, I remember the excitement. The way my house was growing up, I would come downstairs and see the tree immediately. It was always magical. But, my favorite part wasn't unwrapping what was under the tree. I would stop, look at the wonder of the tree and then run down one more set of stairs to the family room. There, the stockings were hung by our fireplace. I would impatiently wait for my parents to come down so that I could open my stocking and see what Santa had left me. I could have done without all of the gifts under the tree and just had my stocking and been content.
While in college, I would come home and there was always consistency. The stockings were always hung in the same place. Santa still filled them the most wonderful things. Once Husband and I moved to our first place, we tried to get cute matching stockings. That's what you do when you move out and get your own place, right? You and your significant other get matching stuff so that everything looks all uniform. It immediately didn't feel right. My grandma made my stocking when I was a baby. My dad had his from when he was little. We ended up buying my mom one when I was young because she didn't have one of her own. Santa would always just hang up a sock and I wanted to make sure she had one of her very own. Husband's grandmother made his stocking. The following year, our parents gave us our childhood stockings. We hung them by our little fireplace in our little townhouse and it felt more like Christmas. It wasn't picture perfect, but, to us, it felt right.
When Monster was born, I knew he needed his own handmade stocking. It was important to me. I didn't want to go out and just buy one that anyone could buy. Everyone who knows me knows I don't sew, so this was a big deal. With a lot of help (and very little of me actually making it) Monster got his own handmade stocking. It didn't even come close to matching mine or husband's, but it was his and it was unique. Then Sunshine was born. Obviously, she needed a stocking of her own. Monster went with me to help pick out material. I was smart enough not to attempt making it myself, so a dear friend (who helped with Monster's) did it for me! Each stocking on our mantel was made by someone who loved us. Each stocking is unique. There are no others in the entire world that are like ours. We can not run out to the store and grab another one to replace it. When the kids were born, we did not have to ditch all of the other stockings because we couldn't find exact matches. The stockings hung by our chimney are the stockings all of us have had since we were babies. Each one made with love, especially for us. Santa has filled the stockings in Florida for years. This will be the first year in many that they will be filled in our own house.
I am sure that when my kids get married and have their own families, they will probably want picture perfect matching stockings, but I hope they don't. I hope their childhood stockings are filled with such Christmas magic and memories that they want to share them with their families. I hope that they ask me to make their children's stockings (and then I beg someone who can see to help me!). There is something wonderful and comforting and downright magical about bringing your childhood traditions into your own house. I pray that magic finds its way into my children's houses when they are grown.