Beginning to sound like Christmas
My family is in the process of organising Christmas Day, which means we’re all asking each other questions none of us can answer. No, nobody knows what so-and-so is up to, and no, such-and-such isn’t sure where he’ll be. No, you-know-who hasn’t committed to anything and nope, I have no idea about the ham.
But just like every other Christmas, this one is going to be absolutely no fuss, no stress and a lovely time when we can all just enjoy each other’s company.
I am extremely relaxed about it all. Currently, the plan is this: four of us and a baby are getting together for breakfast, then five of us and the baby are having lunch. Somewhere in between these feedings, up to eight of us will open presents, then three of us and the baby are going to have a second lunch with a dozen of us.
After that, five of us and two babies will all have dinner together before at least six of us have a picnic.
At some point we’ll also walk the dogs. Together. All of us. As a family.
What’s also contributing to my extremely relaxed attitude is this Christmas we’re all being fiscally responsible because none of us can afford not to be.
Initially, we set a $10 limit on presents because we all agreed that would be both fun and a challenge.
We agreed because none of us had any intention of doing it.
Then, we decided to do away with the limit and only buy second-hand. This was decided as nobody was going to do this anyway.
Now, we’re all promising each other we’re not buying for anyone other than the babies, which is precisely what we promised last year until everything got complicated.
So-and-so doesn’t have a baby so can’t be left empty-handed, and such-and-such needed this anyway so it’s not really a present.
In our online chat group we reassured each other these were rare exceptions and we’d otherwise be sticking to the agreement.
None of us were sticking to the agreement. Offline, there were plottings and alliances, plans for presents presenting as not-presents and, I swear, an idea to pass off a set of king-size sheets as a gift for a three-month-old.
This all reached peak farce when our matriarch pointed out that every one of us is actually a baby to someone else and therefore can be bought for.
I was particularly chuffed because A: nobody would have believed a one-yearold needed petrol vouchers, and B: I needed socks.
But this year we’re doing it. Not only is nobody going to any trouble whatsoever in cooking, hosting or buying, none of us
are feeling stressed about anything to do with Christmas Day.
Iam very, very, relaxed. I am, in fact, so relaxed that I’m telling everyone it doesn’t matter what they do or where they go on the day. tell them they should do whatever they want and that I’d hate for them to feel obliged for anything. I tell them the very best Christmas was when we eschewed all wider familial obligations; went to a river; ate strawberries, dug a dam. I get it, I tell them, life is busy and there are so many demands on your time.
Obviously, I don’t tell them the second best Christmas was when I bowed out early, claiming I was working, when really I was going to a hotel with my man.
And I tell, or don’t tell, them all of this just before I ask “so, what are your plans for Christmas? ”