The morning my baby turned four didn’t arrive loudly.

There was no rush yet, no voices filling the rooms, no small feet padding across the floor. Just quiet. The kind that only exists before the day begins.

Somewhere between yesterday and today, he crossed a line I didn’t see coming. Not from baby to toddler—but from something softer into something surer. Taller. More himself.

I stood there for a moment, noticing it. Letting it land. By the time the morning found its shape, he was already here.

Becoming

Later, he stood in front of a paper backdrop wearing a costume he chose himself. Confident. Certain. Holding his number four balloon like it belonged to him.

Four already carries opinions. Favorites. Imagination that spills beyond the edges.
He knows who he is pretending to be—and somehow, who he is becoming, too.

There was a time when I chose everything for him.

And that feels like both a gift and a letting go.

Before He Woke Up

Before he opened his eyes, I was already loving him forward into the day.

The dining room waited quietly—balloons resting where they had been placed with intention, his cake standing still like it knew it mattered. Nothing was happening yet, and everything was already full.

These are the moments that never make noise.

The unseen work of motherhood.
The love in advance.

I thought about how many mornings I’ve stood quietly like this—packing his backpack, making sure he has his water bottle or car, setting out clothes, preparing spaces he hasn’t entered yet. How much of motherhood exists before the child ever notices?

Holding the Present

Later, he sat on the couch beneath balloons floating gently against the ceiling. He played. He laughed. He held his number four balloon as if it were nothing special at all.

And that’s when it hit me.

This—this—is the moment I’ll want back one day.

Not the cake cutting. Not the photos.
But the ordinary magic of him just being four, while I get to witness it.

I wish I could slow it down.
I wish I could tuck this version of him somewhere safe.

But instead, I stay present. I watch. I remember.

For the Mothers Watching Time Move

We measure time
in inches we didn’t notice growing,
in shoes suddenly too small,
in names they answer to without help.

Once, they needed us for everything.
Now, they need us
to stand back
and watch.

They grow forward,
while we learn how to stay—
holding the memory of who they were
without asking them to be it again.

Every year asks something new of us.
A softer grip.
A braver heart.
A deeper breath.

If loving them feels like losing something,
it’s only because it is also becoming something else.

And still—
we show up.
We decorate the morning.
We memorize the ordinary.

Because one day,
we will miss the weight of them at this age.
And be grateful we noticed
while it was still happening.

Four feels big.

The morning my baby turned four, I noticed how quickly time had learned to move.

And I held him a little longer because of it.

the morning my baby turned four

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Some years don’t ask us to reinvent our lives.

They ask us to arrive gently.

This year, I didn’t make resolutions. I didn’t map out a new version of myself or promise that everything would change by February. Instead, I chose a quieter entry. A softer beginning. A gentle reset.

The kind that doesn’t demand more—but allows what already is to breathe.

Letting Go of the Pressure

There’s a particular kind of heaviness that comes with the start of a new year—the feeling that we’re supposed to become something else overnight. Better organized. More disciplined. More motivated. Less tired.

But this season of life has taught me something different.

Some years are not the time to push forward.
They are for tending what already exists.

A clean table.
A small celebration.
A quiet intention to keep going without rushing yourself.

This year, that felt like enough.

A New Year at Home, With Little Ones

New Year’s Eve looked different for us this year—and honestly, it always does now.

Instead of late nights and overstimulation, we stayed warm and cozy at home. We took showers, slipped into clean pajamas, and let the evening unfold slowly. The disco cups came out anyway. The balloons still floated. There was cake to mark the moment, even if it was enjoyed earlier than midnight.

We watched the countdown and fireworks from London on YouTube—early enough that bedtime still mattered, and the magic didn’t turn into exhaustion.

It wasn’t about missing out.
It was about choosing what felt right.

Motherhood has a way of reshaping celebration. It asks us to honor rhythms, protect rest, and redefine what “special” looks like. And sometimes, special is clean pajamas, quiet laughter, and being together—present and unhurried.

A Quiet Toast

Earlier that day, after decorating the house and filling the rooms with balloons and small details, I poured an apple crisp Olipop into a glass and stood in front of the mirror for a moment.

To surviving the year.
To growing, even when it wasn’t obvious.
To still being here.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t shared. But it mattered.

Motherhood doesn’t erase the woman—it softens her edges, deepens her roots. And I think it’s also important to note that. Even quietly. Even alone.

Entering the Year Softly

This year, I’m choosing gentle resets.

More presence.
More grace for unfinished things.
More permission to move at the pace this season requires.

No declarations. No pressure. Just a quiet willingness to keep showing up—imperfectly, lovingly, and with intention.

The year will unfold whether I rush it or not.
So I’m letting it come to me slowly.

One recipe. One bowl. One playlist.
But this time, every set of hands joins the moment.

In our home, Christmas baking has always happened at the dining room table — long before our son was born, long before little footprints and tiny aprons joined the tradition. It’s where we spread everything out, settle in, and make room for the kind of memories that only grow sweeter with time.

This year was no different.
We reached for a simple boxed gingerbread mix — the easiest, yes, during a busy season — and set everything out on the table, letting the moment unfold the way it always does: slowly, softly, together.

Tiny hands pressed cookie cutters into the dough with so much determination. Flour drifted across the table like little snow flurries. The warmth of the Christmas playlist filled the room, making everything feel cozier. We all worked together, sharing laughter and smiles as the dough took shape under our fingertips.

And the cookies?
Unevenly baked. Slightly crisp on the edges.
Perfect in every way that matters.

Because Christmas family time isn’t about creating flawless moments — it’s about creating shared ones.

It’s the way everyone leans closer over the table.
The way your child lights up when they’re invited to pour, stir, and shape the dough.
The way familiar traditions feel brand new again through their eyes.
The way a simple boxed mix becomes the anchor of a memory you didn’t know you needed.

These are the moments that rise.
These are the moments that stay.

A Christmas baking night doesn’t require effort — only intention.
A willingness to pause, gather around the same table you’ve always gathered around, and let the little things become the stories of your season.

So choose the boxed mix.
Choose the imperfect cookies.
Choose the dining room table.
Choose the memory every time.

Because these are the moments your family will carry forward — soft, simple, and beautifully yours.

For the past few weeks, I’ve let go of the idea that my son can’t have any screen time. I still try to cap it, but I now choose intentionally. And that’s where low-stimulating toddler shows — especially festive, cozy ones — become such a gift.

The holidays bring magic, but they also bring overstimulation: bright lights, loud music, full schedules. So choosing slow-paced, calm shows helps our toddlers wind down and still enjoy the season.

Below is a list of gentle Christmas + winter themed shows and movies, PLUS guidance on healthy toddler screen-time limits so you can feel confident and supported — not guilty — when the TV is on.

❄️ Low-Stimulating Christmas & Winter Shows for Toddlers

(Quiet colors, slow pacing, minimal sound effects, gentle storylines)

1. Sarah & Duck: Snowball Skating

A calm winter episode with soft music, slow visuals, and gentle humor.
Where to watch: Apple TV.

2. Little Bear: Winter Tales

Classic, quiet, and cozy. Warm winter storytelling without fast cuts or bright flashing.
Where to watch: Availability varies; often found on Amazon, Apple TV for purchase or you can find some episodes available on YouTube.

3. Kipper: Christmas Eve

Extremely calm and soothing — great for background viewing.
Where to watch: Typically on Amazon Video (rent/own) 

4. Bluey: Christmas Swim

Not fully low-stimulating, but very soft animation and emotional warmth.
Where to watch: Disney+.

5. Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood: Snowflake Day

Slow pacing, gentle songs, soft colors — great for toddlers who love routines.
Where to watch: Apple TV; also on PBS Kids (episode availability may rotate).

6. Puffin Rock: Winter Episodes

Nature-focused, minimal dialogue, beautiful soft artwork.
Where to watch: Netflix; also available for purchase on Amazon or Apple TV.

7. Franklin’s Christmas Gift

Old-school animation with slow pacing and kind storytelling.
Where to watch: Often available on Amazon Video (rent/own); some episodes are available on YouTube.

8. Shaun the Sheep: The Farmer’s Llamas

Soft colors and little dialogue make it good for toddlers who like silly but not loud.
Where to watch: Netflix; sometimes on Amazon Video.

9. The Snowman (1982)

Iconic, slow, silent storytelling. A perfect nap-time vibe.
Where to watch: Prime Video (rent/own) and Apple TV.

10. Peter Rabbit: Winter Games

Gentle winter adventure with calm music.
Where to watch: Amazon Video; episode availability varies, and some episodes are available on YouTube.

🍪 Gingerbread & Holiday Baking Vibe (Calm Choices)

11. Stella & Sam: Gingerbread Cookie Mystery

Soft illustrations and slow pacing.
Where to watch: Amazon Video (rent/own), and some episodes are available on YouTube.

12. Bing: Christmas Special

Simple animation, predictable rhythms, and gentle toddler-friendly themes.
Where to watch: Max (formerly HBO Max); some episodes available on YouTube.

13. Tumble Leaf: Snowflake Dance

Pastel colors, slow motion, peaceful music — an AMAZING low-stim show in general.
Where to watch: Prime Video (Amazon original).

🎥 Full Movies (Calm, Not Overwhelming)

These are great if you want to watch something together:

14. Winnie the Pooh: A Very Merry Pooh Year

Warm, slow, nostalgic — the softest Christmas movie ever.
Where to watch: Disney+.

15. Curious George: A Very Monkey Christmas

Gentle humor, familiar characters, light pacing.
Where to watch: Amazon Video, Tubi, Hulu, or Apple TV (rent/buy).

16. Frosty the Snowman (1969)

Classic, simple animation and easy storytelling.
Where to watch: Hulu, Peacock, Disney+, also found on Amazon (rent/buy), depending on season.

17. A Charlie Brown Christmas

Muted colors, slow pacing, soft jazz music — peaceful for kids and moms.
Where to watch: Apple TV+ (exclusive).

18. Trash Truck Christmas

Gentle holiday story, slow pacing, soft music, and warm messages about kindness and helping others — perfect for calm, toddler-friendly viewing.
Where to watch: Netflix 

📝 A Few Tips to Keep in Mind (Especially During the Holidays)

Streaming rights change often — especially for Christmas specials. Platforms shift things seasonally, so availability may rotate.

Here are a few mom-to-mom tips:

• Check both your streaming apps and Amazon/Apple — sometimes the episode isn’t included anywhere, but is inexpensive to rent.

• Holiday episodes often move from platform to platform depending on the month.

• Classic specials (like Peanuts) are usually held on exclusive platforms.

• Some shows only have certain seasons available, so you might not find every winter episode at once.

• When in doubt, check YouTube; some episodes/movies are available for free and may be accessible to you for viewing.

• Keep expectations low — the goal is calm, not perfection.

You’re not doing anything wrong if you can’t find one exact episode. Another calm option is always there.

🧡 Let’s Talk Screen Time (No Guilt, Just Real Info)

Here’s what trusted organizations say:

According to the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP):

• Toddlers ages 2–5: Up to 1 hour per day of high-quality programming is recommended.

• Co-watching is encouraged because it helps toddlers understand what they see and makes screen time more meaningful.

• Avoid fast-paced, flashing, or overstimulating content.

💬 Release the Pressure, Mama

We don’t need to pretend screen time doesn’t help us.
Sometimes it’s background noise while we cook.
Sometimes it’s a moment to breathe.
Sometimes it’s a way to bond during the holidays while snuggled under a blanket.

Choosing slow, gentle, toddler-friendly shows isn’t “lazy parenting” — it’s intentional parenting.

If the TV is going to be on, you deserve options that support your child’s nervous system and your peace of mind.

You’re doing a beautiful job.
And during this busy holiday season, give yourself some grace — and a cozy movie moment with your little one.

Because love still deserves a seat at the table during the holidays

Christmas looks different once you have kids — fuller, louder, messier… and somehow quieter all at the same time. Date nights don’t always mean leaving the house, finding a sitter, or dressing up. Sometimes, they live right in the middle of bedtime routines, twinkle lights, and half-finished mugs of cocoa.

Here are intentional, realistic Christmas date ideas for couples with children — ideas that fit into family life while still nurturing connection, romance, and presence.

⸻

1. Christmas Lights Walk (After Bedtime or With the Kids)

Bundle everyone up and take a slow walk or drive to look at Christmas lights. If the kids are with you, turn it into a family moment — then savor the quiet together afterward.

Make it a date:

Hold hands. Share childhood Christmas memories. Grab hot chocolate for just the two of you once the kids are asleep.

2. At-Home Christmas Movie Night (With an Adult Twist)

Once the kids are in bed, rewatch a nostalgic Christmas movie together — something familiar and comforting.

Ideas:

• The Holiday

• It’s a Wonderful Life

• Love Actually (edited or late-night 😉)

Add blankets, candles, and a dessert you don’t have to share.

3. Decorate the Tree Together (Slow + Intentional)

Even if the kids decorate earlier in the day, put the ornaments back on together at night. Turn on music, dim the lights, and take your time.

This isn’t about perfection — it’s about ritual.

4. Christmas Baking Date After Bedtime

Choose one recipe. One bowl. One playlist. Kids optional — but quite recommended.

Burned cookies still count. It’s the laughing, sneaking chocolate chips, and midnight cleanup that matter.

5. Late-Night Wrapping Party

When the house is finally quiet, wrap gifts together. Sit on the floor. Talk about hopes for the kids, the year behind you, the one ahead.

This one always turns emotional in the best way.

6. Christmas Morning Coffee Date (Before the Chaos)

Wake up 15 minutes early. Sit together in the quiet. No phones. No agenda.

It’s small — but wildly intimate.

7. Recreate Your Pre-Kids Christmas Date

Think back to something you did together before kids — ice skating, a café stop, music in the car — and recreate it in a simplified way.

Nostalgia is a powerful connection glue.

8. Backyard Bonfire or Porch Cocoa Night

If you have outdoor space, step outside together once the kids are down. Wrap up in blankets. Light candles or a fire pit. Just breathe.

Silence counts as intimacy too.

9. Write Each Other a Christmas Letter

No pressure. No fancy paper needed.

Write one page:

• What I noticed about you this year

• How I saw you show up as a parent

• One thing I love about us

Read them aloud — or save them.

10. Dream About the Future (Without Solving Anything)

Pour wine or tea. Pull out a notebook. Talk about dreams — not logistics.

Trips. Hopes. Who you’re becoming, together.

You don’t need big plans to make Christmas meaningful. Sometimes the deepest connection happens after bedtime, in the quiet spaces where it’s just the two of you — still choosing each other.

Love doesn’t disappear when you have kids.

It just asks to be practiced differently.