The day Pearyn was born we read Happy Birthday to You! by Dr. Seuss. It didn't matter that we had been up for more than 24 hours and spent 18 of them laboring, it didn't matter that we had hardly anything to eat and were getting used to being parents, we decided before our little girl arrived that we would always, always read this story to her on her birthday, even when she's 16 and hates us, we will read this story to her.
And regardless of what we've had on our plates, whether it was planning a double birthday bash or traveling three hours for a wedding, we have read those words, that story, to our little girl every year now since she was born.
We're the kind of family that albeit a bit oddball, we really like our traditions.
Even when Pearyn was still in the womb, couldn't even hear yet and we had no idea that she was, in fact, a "Pearyn," we started our tradition of reading The Night Before Christmas as a family on, you guessed it, the night before Christmas.
When Pearyn finally became a member of our family in the outside world capacity, I still remember sitting in the rocking chair in her room and reading the same book we bought the year before to her. It didn't matter that she was wiggly, had no idea what we were saying and that we were sharing our roof with my brother, sister-in-law and their two kids, we upheld our tradition.
And now, because Pearyn is finally old enough to start getting excited about Christmas and understanding the concept of naughty and nice, we've introduced another tradition to our family this year.
It's official, we're "those" kind of people now, the kind that drive cars with little stick family figures on the back and the kind that fell into the Elf on the Shelf trap. In our defense, it's not actually a trap, it's the most adorable little kit that contains a little elf and a book that talks about what this elf's duty is.
Long story short, you inform your kids that this magical elf appears during the holiday times (for us it will be Thanksgiving eve) and flies back to the North Pole at night to tell Santa whether or not the kids in the family have been good. Then, the magical little elf flies back home before morning light so the little ones can wake up and hunt for where their elf friend is hiding.
I know, it sounds cheesy, and maybe it is, but watching Pear read through the book and pick a name for her very own elf, Emma, was more than worth the money we've spent and the mockery we'll probably take from some people out there.
I realize our traditions aren't the most original, which you probably wouldn't expect from a family that seems so different in every other aspect.
I've learned a lot over the years, namely though, I've learned that being original just for the sake of it doesn't make you original, it makes you fake. And traditions don't have to be unique to every family, they just have to mean something special to yours.
And now, I'm going to waddle my giant pregnant self out to the living room and find somewhere magical for Emma to wake up tomorrow, because I can hardly wait to see the look on Pearyn's face when she realizes the next tradition she's in store for.