REBUILDING THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF YEAR
Writer Catherine Isaac on rediscovering festive joy
Part of me doubted that I’d ever look at this time of year in the same way again
When her husband left her and their young sons just after New Year, writer Catherine Isaac couldn’t imagine ever finding joy in the festive season again. But, as she explains, time heals and life moves on, and with a bit of work on all sides, it has become a special time again for everyone
Igrew up in a household with a gloriously unrestrained approach to the festive season, with an abundance of food, presents and a lighting scheme to rival New York’s Times Square. So when I became a parent myself, I was determined it would be just as special for my own children. I wanted a family Christmas full of grotto visits, Quality Street, charades with the grandparents and my dubious but enthusiastic attempts at home baking. The first few years after 2005 (when my eldest son, Otis, was born) pretty much lived up to expectations.
But one Christmas, when Otis was four and his younger brother Lucas was one, I felt a sense of unease that I couldn’t entirely explain. The carols were still being sung, the lights still twinkled, everyone still wore the obligatory silly hats over lunch, but there was a shift in the atmosphere that was only fully explained a few days into 2010 – when my husband told me he was leaving me. After nine years and two children together, our marriage was over. I soon learnt that he had started seeing a woman he had met through work.
It’s hard to summarise the spectrum of feelings that engulf you during an event like this – sorrow, anger and razor-sharp disbelief. I hadn’t seen it coming, though perhaps I should have. The first working Monday of January has earned the nickname ‘Divorce Day’ by lawyers in recent years, who report a spike in business following the Christmas period. The reason for this isn’t entirely clear. Some believe it’s driven by a desire for a fresh start. But it’s surely more likely that someone who has been thinking about leaving for a while holds things together over Christmas, and acts once the festivities are over. I’m pretty sure this applied in the case of what happened to me.
NEW YEAR, NEW CHANGES
It was the start of a year of upheaval. I decided to move from West Lancashire to Liverpool to be close to my supportive parents. I found a new home. There were places at a new school and nursery to organise and I started unpicking what felt like a thousand pieces of household administration.
It was a terribly sad time, as it always is when someone finds themselves newly and surprisingly single, especially when there are children involved. The first Christmas after a split is when feelings run especially high. My apprehension did not merely stem from all the memories it threatened to stir up about the year before. Part of me doubted that I’d ever look at this time of year in the same way again – with dewy-eyed nostalgia and the simple delight I’d found in sitting around a table with the whole family, debating whose cracker had the worst joke.
Moreover, the traditions we’d had in place year after year – Christmas Day at our house, Boxing Day with my parents – had changed. My ex and I were both determined to remain civil, but practicalities still had to be worked out. The idea that the most wonderful time of the year had become another thing to negotiate was a thoroughly depressing thought.
BEATING THE HOLIDAY BLUES
You have to feel your way through new Christmas arrangements. There are no set rules; you can only make them up as you go along, while trying, above all, to do the best by the children. In our case, we agreed that their father would come over on Christmas morning while they opened presents, then they would spend the rest of the day with me. Their Boxing Day would be at his house, where they could also see their grandfather before returning to me in the evening.
We also agreed to go to lunch together – the four of us – on Christmas Eve. I’ll confess, this wasn’t a prospect I relished. In my less generous moments, I wasn’t convinced that ‘goodwill to all men’ extended to those men who’d dumped you. The gesture turned out to be more important for us than them. They were too young to register its significance, let alone leave with the warm glow I’d imagined. But I was glad we did it as it set the tone for a future of co-operation that we have maintained since.
Despite my concerns, my first Christmas as a single parent really wasn’t that bad. The children still bounced into my room at 6am, excitedly
shouting, ‘He’s been!’. They still ripped off a mountain of wrapping paper within seconds of spotting presents under the tree and we still had enough leftovers to be eating sprout frittatas for weeks. Christmas carried on regardless – and so, it turned out, did everything else. ON THE UP (AND UP)
Two years after the split, I was enjoying life again. The initial turmoil was over, our new home actually felt like a home and my career as an author was on the up after I’d decided to give up my day job and write full-time. The icing on the cake was that I had fallen in love. I’d met Mark online and we hit it off immediately. He was a children’s TV producer and had never been married or had kids but, as you might expect from someone in his line of work, was great with the boys. Four months after we had started dating, I introduced them on a day out at the zoo. They instantly connected with someone who’d never turn down a request for a piggyback and, to their particular delight, had an encyclopaedic knowledge of Marvel superheroes. He didn’t try to be a new father, just a new best friend. Although the boys and I had been getting along fine before we met him, life was simply more fun when Mark was around.
That was even more the case at Christmas. He joined us on the big day for dinner, with his mum, Barbara. The previous year, the two of them had enjoyed a quiet afternoon in his well-appointed apartment with its cream carpet and nice view. Now, they threw themselves into the bedlam of a family Christmas and, returning home with tinsel in their hair and their ears ringing, decided they loved it.
Over the course of the following year, Mark moved in with me and the boys. By the time we started putting up the decorations in December 2012, our family Christmas was on the brink of becoming bigger. I was just under nine months pregnant and our son, Isaac, was born on the morning of New Year’s Eve.
Since then, Mark and I have married, and my ex-husband has gone on to have two more children with his wife, little girls who my two eldest boys dote on. They’ve always been good with younger children and relish their roles as big brothers, which is perhaps why it feels more important than ever for them to spend time at his house on Christmas Day. Now, they go over there for a few hours before lunch, then they return to us.
There are always practicalities to talk about, of course, not least around presents. My ex and I discuss possible gifts in plenty of time, bouncing ideas off each other to make sure there’s no crossover. Some years we’ve chipped in together for a big gift for the children – an Xbox or tablet. At other times, we’ve bought separately. Either way, there is always something to open in both houses.
Family life can be a complicated affair in the 21st century and children whose parents are separated or divorced can have a very busy itinerary over Christmas to keep everybody happy. But I’ve never heard any complaints from my boys. Wherever they may be, they are surrounded by fun, food and people bearing gifts, so I don’t dwell on the fact that it was this time of year when my first marriage crumbled. Now that Otis is a teenager and Lucas is 10, our Christmases have well and truly moved on. Much like life, really. And with Mark and their little brother Isaac, I can honestly say that it’s all the better for it.
Family life can be a complicated affair in the 21st century