Charles Dickens, the Queen's speech, an over-expanded stomach and the latest X Factor finalist at number one...these are some of the things I associate with Christmas time. That and disappointment. Utterly self inflicted might I add - prior to the 25th I completely buy in to the illusions of a family Christmas reminiscent of the seasonal M&S advert. I picture my family gathered around the fire (which we don't have) opening presents, love in our eyes and gratitude magnified upon all faces - the scent of turkey and parsnips roasting in the oven and the smell of magical wonder in the air. I envisage my darling husband turning to me and handing over the present I never requested but secretly wished for and then us kissing and looking at each other with that deep understanding which comes from traversing 17 years of marriage, the births of four children and a critical illness to boot.
The reality varies slightly. Mostly. Completely.
The disillusionment started on Christmas Eve with an incident involving a wall, an ugly car, some disastrous male driving and several ugly wife expressions to follow. Part of me was trying to be pleasant and kind and forgiving because it was Christmas Eve and only a really nasty wife falls out with her husband for reversing in to a wall on such a significant date.....but then the other part of me, the ungrateful martyr-type victim of self pity part, was bewailing the fact this had happened on CHRISTMAS EVE, because truly nothing bad should happen on the 24th December....because it's the night before Christmas. Didn't the car, or the wall or fate or Chris realise this? Bad things are even badder at Christmas and simply aren't supposed to occur.
Which is ridiculous and makes me think of the Band Aid song "Do they Know it's Christmas Time Atall?" (I think I may have shared my feelings on this topic once before). As a child I really took that message on board and fretted about the poor people of Africa not having a Christmas. Since then I have realised what nonsense it was - why would a starving mother, watching her children die stop to think to herself that this is made any worse by the fact it is Christmas? But we do. When we hear of an accident, injury, divorce, job loss, affair or any other tragedy throughout December, most people's reaction is that it is made sadder because of the season. We expect something wonderful at Christmas and when it is spoiled our disappointment is even more acute. (Incidentally I do appreciate that the track hugely raised awareness of the plight in Ethiopia and was a great tool but the concept was purely for the Western Nations).
Which is ridiculous and makes me think of the Band Aid song "Do they Know it's Christmas Time Atall?" (I think I may have shared my feelings on this topic once before). As a child I really took that message on board and fretted about the poor people of Africa not having a Christmas. Since then I have realised what nonsense it was - why would a starving mother, watching her children die stop to think to herself that this is made any worse by the fact it is Christmas? But we do. When we hear of an accident, injury, divorce, job loss, affair or any other tragedy throughout December, most people's reaction is that it is made sadder because of the season. We expect something wonderful at Christmas and when it is spoiled our disappointment is even more acute. (Incidentally I do appreciate that the track hugely raised awareness of the plight in Ethiopia and was a great tool but the concept was purely for the Western Nations).
Following on from the car Chris then lost his wallet. In itself nothing major but yet another niggle in our bag of troubles. Thus I woke up Christmas Day struggling to maintain a facade of excitement, enhanced by the attitude of our teenage boys who made no secret of the fact they did not wish to get up and share in the fun. At 14+ all a boy wants to do is sleep (and perhaps a few other unmentionable things) so trying to drag them out of bed and pretend to be happy for the sake of their little sisters who have wholeheartedly embraced the magic of Santa, is nigh on impossible. On top of this the day was somewhat marred by the moans and groans of children, who justifiably, wished to remain at home and play with their games/toys, whilst we adults had arranged family visits. Somehow next year we need to work on a compromise.
And my final disappointment is discovering our hamster, which I had bought as the girls' Christmas gift, is sick and so had to be returned from whence it came. It basically sat in its cage for two days not moving much atall so yesterday I forced it out so to give it the once over and discovered it has wet tail....a stress related illness. Quite frankly in this household I am not surprised. Maybe she overheard about the smashed car and the lost wallet and all of my other woes.
I suppose I should be just grateful I am not a Hamster.
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