100 making Christmas magical despite the madness

In the midst of the holiday frenzy, take a deep breath and reflect on what makes Christmas truly magical.

“I’ve got great news,” said the MOTH (Man of the House) who was reading his emails. “It looks like everybody is coming to Christmas dinner!

“Don’t worry,” he added. “All you have to do is get the turkey and all the trimmings, plus presents and wrapping paper. You should probably decorate the Christmas tree and fill the stockings, too, because you know how to do that stuff. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“What else is there?” I asked. “Drinks, of course. Leave the wine list entirely to me!”

That’s one of the many endearing things about the MOTH. He always shares the load. Especially at Christmas.

“Don’t forget the crackers,” he shouted on his way out the door.

As if I would. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without paper hats, little plastic choking hazards and bad jokes. I remember listening fondly to a six-year-old Ruff Red reading the question in his cracker carefully and oh so slowly to everyone at the table. “What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?”

Led by the MOTH, we chorused, “I don’t know! What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?” “A stick!” Ruff Red shrieked.

He was still cackling happily at this when I tucked him into bed.

“You know what the definition of siblings is, don’t you?” sighed a friend when I told her over coffee that this year all five McDermott children and their partners and kids would be home for Christmas.

“Siblings are children of the same parents, each of whom is perfectly normal until they get together!”

We laughed so hard we snorted the foam on our coffees right up our noses.

“Ah, but Oscar Wilde said, ‘After a good dinner, one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relatives’,” I added.

“So you’re buying the whole meal from the deli,” she smirked.

“Only the tricky stuff,” I said, “like pâté, dips, some salads, the turkey, a Christmas pudding, fruit cake, mince tarts, bread rolls and a pavlova.”

“Are you doing anything?” “Vegetables. I’m also in charge of setting the table, lighting the candles, washing up and keeping the peace!”

I love the Christmas issues of magazines, brimming with wonderful food and tips on how to make your holiday table special. When I was a 22-year-old, journalist I wrote such an article myself. Here’s an excerpt:

“Achieve a feeling of baronial splendour and largesse for your Christmas table. Put a blanket under the tablecloth to add a feeling of fullness and luxury. Tie linen napkins (freshly starched and ironed, of course) with red and gold ribbon.

“Trim chair backs with ivy, heap shiny, red apples and deep green leaves in sparkling crystal bowls and scent the air with rose, pine or Christmas potpourri or oils. Make everyone sitting at your table feel welcomed and honoured.”

Now I’m older and, I hope, wiser, I know it doesn’t matter what’s on the Christmas table, only who’s around it.

This Christmas, I’ll sit back and watch our children and grandchildren around the table, toasting, teasing and arguing. They bring up the past and talk about the future. Someone knocks over a glass of milk and the seven year old wants spring rolls instead of turkey. Traditionally, the MOTH will be the first, but certainly not the last, to spill red wine on the white linen tablecloth.

The candles burn down, but nobody’s in a hurry to leave. I remember something I read long ago.

“No good thing vanishes. It is carried forward generation to generation.”

Merry Christmas, dear reader. AWW