Preparations.
I seem to be writing these downbeat things but I am not actually unhappy in the least, even though I am already rousing at 3.oo am. worrying about Chr1stmas presents. Did you know that it is already 'St1r Up Sunday' this coming weekend? For once I was determined to finally get hold of a r0und pudding m0uld as used in the best Victorian households. But the stirring day is now really, really close and when I did find the mould on-line there was no choice of express delivery. Will it arrive in time? The Christmassy stress is starting to build. I used to have a badge which said 'When all else fails - lower your standards' which I wore often until my daughter pinned it on her school uniform and it was confiscated. 'Don't you realise that this sentiment goes against the entire ethos of our school?' the teacher screamed at her, spittily. And when she asked for it back they pretended they had lost it. I loved that badge.

But I can't lower my standards at Christmas because we are all just used to it being a certain way and it would be sad if it wasn't. 'I'm never doing Christmas even when I'm married', said my younger daughter. 'We'll all carry on coming to you'. This was a combination of compliment for my lavish and charming seasonal arrangements and the sensible backing off from ever wanting to look and sound like I do right up until midnight on Christmas Eve. I was thinking about squid and her favourite book being 'A L1ttle Pr1ncess' because it was exactly that kind of book that set me off on this path. My mother made massive efforts at Christmas too but I managed to take it up many more notches as she wasn't drawn to the V1ctorian side of it like I am. (I think she may even have BOUGHT her mincemeat).

I said in passing to my older daughter that there wasn't any new music that I particularly liked so buying stuff for Christmas was being difficult. 'What are you talking about', she replied. And I realised that normally I do everything for Christmas totally alone and that no one has ever noticed that the reason things go quite well and it is fun is because I provide little things all the time to move the mood along. Just like a bag of tiny toys for babies on a long car journey. I am not moaning here but that is partly why it IS such an effort and takes so much thought. I buy new cds to play for the first time when things are a bit boring and new DVDs for empty evenings and at least one game for Christmas night and some childish things that pass the time stupidly. Last year they spent hours making birds from a really low-level origami book and messing about on the home assembly go-c@rt. And piles of cheerful cooking stuff like weird edible decorations and odd shaped cutters. Treating grown-up children like ten year olds at Christmas always works.

The whole run-up seems to swing wildly from enjoying it in a romantic way to screaming inside my head. And then every year it ends up being almost exactly the same. 'But where's your video camera?, I said to my younger daughter who is always in charge of this. 'Look, there's no point. I was forwarding through the last few Christmas films and you can't tell them apart .. it's like watching one on repeat .. I can't be bothered to do it anymore'. So 2004 was missed out. But that isn't happening again .. the pleasure IS in the details ..even if one of them is always me teetering past with something red hot screaming 'Don't point that f.cking thing at me'.
- posted by Iris @ 11/14/2005 09:58:00 PM comment