Three sleeps to go. For the younger brigade, already in their beds as I write this, really only two. No time at all.
Time instead for Christmas commiserations to commence in earnest.
You know what these are. They are the moment you meet a fellow traveller on the well-trodden route towards Christmas and they ask ‘Are you all ready for Christmas then?’
And you both sigh, partly with genuine concern about the Christmas list, and partly with the opportunity to feel better about it. They haven’t even bought their wrapping paper yet!
And so on.
It struck me recently that making arrangements for Christmas is possibly on a par with organising a major event of wedding-size, every year.
You are catering for multiple people – and potentially multiple events. There are expectations over correspondence (aka Christmas cards), both in the sending and the sending back.
You are buying multiple presents – and potentially entering into wider negotiations to manage the delicate balance of not all buying the same thing while conveying an air of both deep caring and seeming spontaneity.
You are also the event organiser who may feel compelled to waylay your own best-made plans. When the to do list goes on and on, but the sudden additional invitation arrives,
you may well add it to the collection. And sigh some more.
And everyone is ‘arranging a wedding’ at the same time. So there are comparisons to be made – as well as advice to be sought, and maybe even dishes to borrow.
The factor that adds to Christmas commiserations is that the list does not necessarily factor in everyday life. You know, the need to have enough clean clothes for the coming week, meals to be cooked, dentists appointments to attend.
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Christmas Present
Throw the whole lot together, add some light deprivation, and it’s no wonder our faces can be as long as our lists, some days.
So it’s time to help you feel a little better. Here’s where I’m at, with limited time to go:
I sent as few cards as I felt I could get away with – because I can do Facebook or email messages to the rest. I did not then start making out extra cards when I received others.
(But thank you anyway!)
I didn’t do any Christmas baking this year. We didn’t go to a pantomime. I have not been ice skating, and I have also avoided wearing any overtly festive clothing.
Rain has stopped play once already on our possible Christmas funfair outing, and may well do so again tomorrow.
I am currently wrapping presents in the order of the necessity of them being handed over. This means that they were done for family we saw today. Others for the big day – not yet. Ones we’ll give after that – all in good time.
I have not yet done the Christmas food shop. Admittedly, I am not catering the big day, and we are not hosting anyone for Hogmanay, so there is less to do.
I am considering new and interesting ways to use up bits in the fridge, and avoiding going food shopping for a bit longer. Partly because it’s cold, dark, and raining a lot at the moment.
I have already detailed my approach to present buying, and it is determinedly low-maintenance (while still remembering family).
I am not planning a Christmas viewing schedule. Â I have not hand-made lots of presents. I am not giving any parties.
I missed out a token gift for at least once sports teacher if not both. (I suspect both will still survive, and not turf Junior Reader out, come the new year.)
By the way, it turns out that writing a blog post a day during December, on Christmas themes, can serve as a great device for avoiding other pre-Christmas responsibilities.
We are all tired. The autumn term at school is a long one. The year has been particularly demanding at points. I am hoping that a jumbly tummy is not the sign of the onset of any nasty bug.
I am in the same place as you. There are moments when I am looking forward to the day itself, and others when I am much more interested in hibernation. Please grab a present from the pile while I find some nice leaf mould to curl up in.
There are little snippets of days where the fairy lights sparkle a little brighter, a school choir sings a little sweeter. A memory is cherished; a new tradition is formed.
There are larger chunks of days where the washing won’t dry; where the rain won’t stop; where there is little enthusiasm for the next Christmas get-together, and where we put ornaments on the tree in dribs and drabs.
Do we really want to hear ‘yes’ when we ask the Christmas commiseration question? Or are we really just trying to find a way to say: this is hard work isn’t it? How are you doing?
Thanks for asking. As well as can be expected. That’ll do for now. And how are you?