Are they Christmas traditions or do they become Christmas expectations that you can’t miss even for one single year without potentially “ruining” someone’s Christmas?
I know many of us are feeling terribly burnt out as this year comes to a close.
After two years of sporadic state-induced hermitude and hefty absence of events to patronise, it felt like we hit the ground running at the beginning of this one.
So fast, that we’ve somehow beaten our PB and are two thirds of the way into December already.
Not only did we have all the rescheduled affairs to get to, but all the new ones, too.
After avoiding the grasp of the dreaded coronavirus for about 27 months, my boys and I all had debilitating and exhausting bouts of it (one of the kids twice).
And then came the floods to add more stress and setbacks.
On the last weekend before Christmas we finally had a weekend with nothing at all planned, nowhere to be.
The thought was lovely, until I looked at the grubby state of the floors, the brimming laundry hamper, the lengthy lawns, the empty fridge and the brown ute (which is not the colour of its duco) and realised my “free” weekend was going to disappear pretty quickly.
When were we supposed to get a Christmas photo taken like we do every year?
When were we supposed to go looking at Christmas lights?
Were we going to make it to Carols by Candlelight?
When was I going to finish buying those last-minute stocking fillers?
Oh gosh, I still haven’t let the kids loose in Kmart with some cash to choose their brothers a gift yet?
When was I going to finish wrapping the gifts?
When was I going to go and visit my friends to deliver their gifts?
When was I going to just put my feet up for five minutes?
I want to love Christmas and I always do once we finally get to Christmas Eve, but the silly season is more than that. It’s insanity.
I don’t feel its magic anymore; I just feel stress and fatigue.
And I wonder if it’s because my kids are a bit older now, so I’m not seeing as much magic in it through their eyes. Or is it because I used to be able to share the load with their father and it just seems like double the work is too much some days? Or is it simply because the weather hasn’t been behaving like summer and therefore not feeling that warm festive vibe either?
The kids all know certain truths now, yet they still wanted me to bring that dreaded elf back from the depths of whichever drawer of Christmas clutter I retired him to. The elf I never wanted to visit our house to begin with, but thanks to schools including them in their classrooms and almost all their friends’ houses having one, I felt pressured into inviting into our world after those downturned little mouths had asked me “why don’t any elves want to come to our house?”.
Even now, 21 days after I declined to bring him back, I feel beyond guilty typing the words.
But it was just one more thing that requires daily effort that I didn’t need on my plate this December.
I fear my not-so-positive energy steals some of the kids’ magic from them.
So, conscious of that, I worked my butt off to tick off all the chore-type items on my to-do list Friday night and Saturday, so that we could tick off some of the more fun, non-chore-type items in the remainder of the weekend, too.
We made it to the photo booth for the boys’ Christmas photo in the afternoon just 10 minutes before it closed. I was covered in dust and sweat, with dishevelled hair, wearing yard clothes and people possibly smelt me before they saw me (needless to say, I was NOT in the pic). But we made it.
Then (via home for a much-needed shower) we did that Kmart thing and I killed a second pear-tree partridge with the same stone, grabbing the last of the stocking fillers while we were there.
We went for pizza for a treat for the kids, aka a night off cooking for a bedraggled mother, in a win-win situation.
By the time we’d finished, the screeching of the cockatoos in the High St trees signalled it was nearly dark, so perfect timing to journey around town in search of Chrissy lights — but not before getting an ice-cream at the gelatery for the trip, as our unwritten family Christmas lights touring schedule states we must do.
I’m not going to lie, the whole time I was driving I was longing to be home in my PJs doing anything else but that.
But, I didn’t let on.
I watched the kids’ gazes of wonder as the glowing lights hypnotised them into a Christmas calm, listened to their excited gasps and shrieks each time they spotted a decorated home (we went winging it without a map), and all the while felt a little bit of magic creep back into the car.
Now school’s out, work is almost done for the year and it’s just a few short days to Christmas.
Time to relax, take a deep breath in AND out, get those gifts to my friends, pour that wine and wrap the last of those presents while I enjoy said wine.
Who knows? I might even put on some Christmas tunes to make up for some time lost not being in the spirit. Definitely not Mariah though — more like my Merry Metal Christmas playlist, which is also headbangingly therapeutic for this time of year (so that I may kill yet another pear-tree partridge with the minimum amount of stones).
Merry Christmas everyone. I hope no matter your situation, you can find a little magic in it somewhere.