There is so much pressure this time of year, to create magic for our children.

To keep Santa alive.
To make wishes come true.
To deliver family and fun and sparkles.

To move the puff-wombling Elf every knob-jockeying night. #Elfregrets

There is perhaps more pressure if you’re on your own, and it’s two-fold: To compensate for the family your kids don’t have any more, and to create your new, smaller family unit.

To make up, and make new – and make it all MAGIC.

The trouble with magic is that it takes a lot of energy. Digging into your soul for inspiration and motivation, into the past for your memories, into the future for the traditions you want them to remember. And engineering it all – making it happen – whilst most of the time taking no damn credit for it. #FOffSanta

All, of course, at a time of year when you’re basically running on empty. (Well, chocolate and mince pies and empty, anyway).

It can also take money. Which you don’t have. And which you sort of know is distracting you from what you’re really trying to achieve anyway… because it’s not actually about presents and volume and more stuff and bigger and better.

You know what it’s about. You know the shape of magic, it’s silhouette. But not it’s substance…

Because real magic – not the false trimmings and trappings and top hats and rabbits type – is elusive. And the harder you try to manufacture it, the more it slips through your fingers.

Here’s what I think. I think real magic doesn’t just take energy, it IS energy.

And it doesn’t come from the external, outside stuff.
It comes from inside.
Or at least it used to…

I KNOW I used to have magic. I remember it.

It was in the bubble of laughter that was always just under my surface. It was in the joy I had in other people. It was in the lightness of touch that let me empathise and soothe and smooth and schmooze and bring harmony and humour. It was in the exuberance of my movements, words, and pictures. It was in my focus. And it was in how all of those things came together to draw people in and conduct them in MY dance.

That was my magic. I felt powerful when I wielded it.
And it’s been dimmed to missing for a really, really long time.

I’m seeing glimpses of it now. Intermittently. When I don’t try to hard. When I don’t trip myself up by overthinking, overplanning, worrying, or feeling guilty. When I forget that I’m rubbish and lazy and failing and weak and embarrassing and mad and intense – and all the other Bad Words that were used to describe my magic back to me, for a while. When I forget that I’ve got bills to pay, and deadlines to meet, and post to open, and bags to pack, and pending court cases, and a crumbling house I can’t afford, and two small children to get up and out of the house by 7.30am.

It sneaks back in the tickle fights, the discos (currently mostly featuring the classic ‘lila lila hotgun’ by George Ezra), the guessing and action games, the bedtime stories, the re-telling of family memories, the made-up lyrics, in the voices of hand puppets Mister Lion and Mister Froggy (French and Cockney respectively), in the deep chuckle of a 3 year old and the sparkly eyes of a 7 year old, in their jubilation that is an exact mirror image of my own, when I’m on form. When I remember my magic.

It sneaks back in the rekindled friendships that were also dimmed for a time, in the office, through my work, through my writing, and in a new and particular friendship that’s still too fragile to talk about here…

And like all real and authentic magic, to make it stick, to make it come true, I JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE IT.

Look down, and you’ll fall.
Stop believing, and you won’t get any presents.
Clap your hands, or fairies will die…

Magic and belief are symbiotic. You can’t have one without the other – especially at Christmas time.

So if you’re also looking to make magic for your children this year, try looking for it inside yourself. Believe it. And then give THAT to your children.

For me, believing in myself is still very, very hard. But I’ve come to see my presence – my true magic – as the best present I have to give to the girls this year. They deserve the magic that happens when I let the best of me out to play. They deserve to learn that they’ve got magic inside them, too, and that it works best when it touches other people’s and AMPLIFIES.

I don’t know whether all this puts more pressure or less pressure on Christmas, or on me. I do know it’s helped me to think differently about what the magic I want for my kids really looks like. And where it comes from.

Anyhoo. I hope you and your Smalls have a happy (and magical) Christmas.

Mumonthenetheredge
xx