I walk down the aisles of Rite-Aid, with each one filled from top to bottom with advertisements for the holiday season, candy canes, ornaments, and turkey welcome mats. I roll my eyes and go forward to get my prescription, only to find a candy cane striped pen making it impossible to avoid the holiday hustle and bustle.

The Hallmark channel is overflowing with sappy love movies about the couple who got their Christmas wish to get engaged.

Every other radio station is playing carols.

My mom asks me if I want her to make pumpkin pie or pumpkin cheesecake for our after dinner dessert for Thanksgiving.

Friends ask what I want to do for my birthday next week.

Other moms ask me if I've started my Christmas shopping.

I don't think I've ever Grinched so hard as I have so far this year.

A time of year we look forward to Christmas recitals and gift wrapping, gingerbread cookies and snuggling by the fire, watching all three "Santa Claus" movies in one night, everyone is anticipating their favorite time of year.

I've never looked forward to January so much in my whole life.

It's not because I can't afford extravagant gifts, it's not because I'm dreading the five lbs. of Christmas cookie weight gain, it's not even that I have to pretend I'm excited for the "gift" my neighbor wrapped me from her junk drawer, it's that the holidays are an ever painful reminder for those of us without a complete family, that we don't have one.

I'll get the holiday cards in the mail that you made at Wal-Mart with your happy family photos of you all wearing Santa hats in the Bahamas, wishing me a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

I'll watch the movies about the child making a Christmas wish that her parents get back together.

I'll have to have the "I want her on Christmas" argument.

I'm just not ready for this.

I think of watching our daughter try to eat the wrapping paper and ignore her presents that I spent 300 dollars on.

I think of the cat trying to knock over the Christmas tree and seeing her giggle as if it's the greatest thing she's ever seen.

I picture her eyes looking at the twinkling lights.

I think of how incomplete our family photo will look.

There has to be some hidden rule they don't tell you about in co-parenting class that the first holiday season after a parents separation is the worst holiday season you will ever have; this has to be the reason bars are open on Christmas Eve, this is why Chinese restaurants are open and people write books like the Grinch.

The holidays are an amazing time when you have a family to spend them with.

No one ever told me that my first holiday season ever with my daughter, would also be my first holiday season ever as a single mom, no one ever told me I would be a single mom.

When I pictured her holidays, I pictured her only having to celebrate once, watching the love of her parents, a family snuggling by the fire and watching Rudolph would be the best Christmas gift, a gift that sold out a long time ago.

Matching Christmas pajamas, holiday parties when one parent has the child, incomplete photos, trying to bring home new people to fill the void of the role only they can fill.

A New Year, not rung in the same way it was the two years before, no promise of forever to envision.

We'll see you enjoy your first tree, but not together.

We'll see you open your presents, but by ourselves.

We'll laugh when you try to eat the ornaments, but the other one won't.

We'll take family photos, but the ghost of the other parent will have a spot in the background where they should be.

When you co-parent, day to day life activities become harder, but there are some things that will never get easier.

I see your eyes bright, but they search the room.

As if, there's more.

You watch me or him walk away, then look back confused. You excitedly wiggle when you see us both, and cry when we argue. As if you don't understand it, but you know it's not what you want.

I'll wrap your presents and trim the tree; I'll feed you cranberry sauce and applesauce and do handprint turkey crafts. I'll play holiday music for you in the car.

I'll hold you, he'll hold you.

You will be loved totally and fully.

I'm not looking forward to spending the first of many Christmases, you will never know anything other than a broken home. I'm not looking forward to answering the questions to come on why your friends parents get along and yours don't. I'm not looking forward to one parent getting you on Christmas Eve and one getting you on Christmas. They left this section out of the co-parenting book.

But you search for us under the tree and that's one gift I can't give you on my own.

Santa, she's been good this year.