Saturday Morning: The Holidays Begin

Saturday morning.
First day of the Christmas holidays. School and work are finished. Time to relax, well, we’ll get to that part tomorrow.

I decided a few months ago that I wasn’t really up for Christmas this year. Don’t get me wrong, I like the decorations, most of the tunes and the general festive feeling but I don’t understand or need the extra admin in my life.

There comes a time in your life when you suddenly become the organiser. The creator of Christmas. And honestly? It actually sucks.

You’ve got to write endless lists of presents you need to buy, not including the people you live with. You have to book a Christmas delivery slot to make sure your most expensive shop of the year arrives on time, just so you can spend days cooking for everyone, ensuring that whoever is visiting is catered for. You also have to remember all the little extra bits that are supposed to make Christmas special.

Then you have to organise multiple outings, visit people, travel to different places and repeat the whole process again and again.

And then, just to really spice things up, add an autistic child who does not like changes in routine, visitors, unfamiliar food or extra noise.

At that point, the whole thing starts to feel a bit pointless.

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Choosing Less (And Being OK With It)

Now, this might be reflective of the journey I’m on with River but for the sake of my own physical and mental health, I’m just not going to do things anymore just because I’m supposed to.

That doesn’t mean we’ve done nothing.

I obviously took them to their Christmas school fairs and we did a pantomime (see previous two blogs). I didn’t opt out completely, I just chose what felt manageable. We showed up where it mattered and left the rest.

There was, however, a slight Christmas Jumper Day fail.

I knew when it was.
I reminded people in the WhatsApp.
I felt very organised.

The morning arrived. I put River in his Santa top, which he’s been loving, no stress there. It’s actually a pyjama top, so very soft, very acceptable. Then I told Summer to put on her jumper.

“What jumper, Mum?”

“Your Christmas one, obviously sweetheart.”

“The one I donated a few months ago because it didn’t fit me?”

“Yes, Summer. That one. Clearly.”
Crap.

Luckily, I’ve raised a very resilient daughter with an excellent sense of humour, so she wore her Halloween jumper ironically. She even said, completely deadpan,
“Well… we kind of celebrate this more than Christmas anyway.”

Fair point.

There are still non-negotiables (school phrase).
Both kids had their school parties, we ensured snacks sorted. I’m Summer’s Class Rep (of course I am), so I organised the collection, bought the gift cards for her teacher, donated to River’s teachers and bought a present for River’s 1-to-1.

But on the present front beyond that? That’s it.

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Let Me Be Clear: Summer Is Not Missing Out

I want to be really clear here, because I know how this can sound.

Summer is not missing out.

She’s out of the Santa phase now which, if I’m honest, is actually a relief and she asked for cash this year. Specifically so she could buy a skincare routine and wanted to know if I’d heard of a little shop called Sephora…

And yes, before anyone worries, I have bought her age-appropriate, price-appropriate skincare. She is also extremely excited about our holiday.

What she doesn’t need is me stressed, exhausted and buried under lists. She doesn’t need Christmas to look like everyone else’s if it means the adults around her are running on fumes.

River is slowly understanding the idea of Christmas, much more than last year but he isn’t expecting presents or fully understands that he’s meant to get them. Like his birthday, we’ve tried giving him a present to see how he’d react. He threw it back at me, said “I don’t know,” and walked off.

Kike is a grown man who earns his own money and has his own (very good) style. He does not need me buying him things.

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The Weird Switch Thing

The present I give to my family can’t be wrapped.

It’s everything I do. Every day.

I make sure everyone has what they need, that everyone is where they’re meant to be, that life functions. That alone is not a small thing. So why would I then create an extra set of tasks once a year to reward myself?

I’ve also been thinking about when gift-giving turned into this strange administrative exercise. We all write lists of things we already want, send them to each other and then do this weird switch.

“Oh, I wonder what it is?”

You know exactly what it is.
You picked it.

I don’t need anyone to Amazon-deliver me a candle. Or a notebook. Or something I’ve already chosen and approved. I can buy my own things. What I can’t buy is time, energy or rest.

I would much rather a phone call.
A lunch.
Someone coming round for a drink.

Something that says: I see you, not I ticked you off my list.

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A Different Kind of Christmas

Tomorrow morning we’ll be landing in Lanzarote because, as the advert says, nothing beats an all-inclusive Jet2Holiday (darling, hold my hand).

No cooking.
No cleaning.
No hosting.
No visitors.

Just the four of us. Hopefully some sunshine. And I, for one, am very much looking forward to the evening entertainment again.

This isn’t me cancelling Christmas. It’s me choosing a version of it that doesn’t leave me depleted. Different doesn’t mean lacking. Right now, it means sustainable.

And that feels like more than enough.