I think most people will be busy preparing for the Christmas holiday and I don’t expect many of my loyal fans or new readers to come anywhere near my web-site or Blog for a while, but I thought I’d put fingertips to key-board before I get completely swamped by the festive season.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I see this time of year as challenging. As a woman with children and grandchildren; a husband, friends and extended family I feel pressured to perform like superwoman. Do any of you feel the same?
Christmas shopping for suitable presents for everyone is only the start of it. Would Aunty Dot like bed socks or might she think I was referring to her need to keep warm as she gets older and see it as an insult? What about my youngest sister? Would she appreciate some anti-wrinkle cream or would that be a step too far? If I bought my niece that lovely cropped top I saw, would I be encouraging her to express her sexuality too soon? She’s sixteen but would my brother-in-law still see her as a child? It’s a veritable minefield!
I find trying to remember what I bought the same people last year a nightmare. I don’t want to repeat the mistake of giving my brother a bottle of brandy when he swore off the booze in November and forgot to mention it to anyone! Then there was the time I watched my sister unwrap the very same perfume I got her the previous year, and only remembered when I saw the sarcastic smile of thanks on her face.
How do so many people seem to find hitting the right note of festive cheer so easy? If you’re one of them, what’s your secret?
Don’t even mention the festive food! I admit that my kitchen duties have now downsized since my daughter took over and now invites the family to her house. At first, we all made contributions to take with us, to ensure the preparations were easier for her. It all worked well, until the year I forgot to bring the cranberry sauce I’d slaved over the previous day, and the pigs in blankets were still nestled happily in my fridge at home. Now we turn up early and lend a hand peeling the sprouts instead.
I’m happy when the big day is well into the afternoon and nothing else can go wrong! It’s not a quiet day. Conversation flows among the adults, fueled by alcohol to keep the volume above the squeals of children playing with new toys. Then, just when I think I can’t put up with the younger ones under my feet a moment longer, it grows quieter as adults fall into booze-induced slumber and the young ones watch Frozen for the hundredth time on their new ipads.
Why do we put ourselves through this torture every year? Because we love it, of course!