I assume you are on the internet, you certainly seem to do a lot of my childrens christmas shopping on ebay, so hopefully this will reach you.
It seems to be very popular to blog about Christmas at the moment. Christmas is indeed coming, and presumably geese are getting fat somewhere, as for putting pennies in an old mans hat, well, I live in Australia so they’d be $1 coins and I’d probably get looked at very oddly if I tried that on the train, not that many old men seem to wear hats these days, anyway.
I relate to a Tim Minchin’s Christmas song “White Wine in the Sun”-
I’m looking forward to Christmas, It’s sentimental, I know, but I just really like it, I am hardly religious, I’d rather break bread with Dawkins than Desmond Tutu, to be honest, And yes, I have all of the usual objections to consumerism, The commercialisation of an ancient religion, And the westernisation of a dead Palestinian, Press-ganged into selling Playstations and beer, But I still really like it,I’ll be seeing my dad, My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum, They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun
and so on….It is a song he wrote for his daughter and it always makes me cry because, well, that is the Christmas I want. Nothing flashy or dramatic, just my family together and happy and even that seems too difficult.
You always come and deliver the requisite small presents, as Bub 2 said to me the other day “It doesn’t matter that I’m growing out of all my undies, its almost Christmas – but maybe i should write to Santa and tell him I want green ones ’cause I really like turtles”. Yes Santa brings underpants. every year. wrapped seperately. 6 little parcels at the bottom of the stocking with the chocolate money and candy cane, under a book, some art supplies and a small toy. (so yes, Green for bub 2, and bright colours for Bub 1 this year please)(but nothing with Hannah Montana or high school musical – please)
And I try with the tree and decorations and cake (as I have written about before) and up until Christmas day it can seem a bit of a ding dong merrily on high…but then it is a massive downhill rush, no one is ever happy at Christmas lunch or dinner, it is too hot or too cold, and this year, this year my parents leave less than five days before to live in France and are giving me their old couch as my Christmas gifts (almost as good a gift as the bright pink handbag that Mum gave me that was widely advertised as coming free with her brand of perfume – classy parenting that – note to self never to do).
And it isn’t even that Christmas for me is about getting presents, as Tim writes “the old combination of socks, jocks and chocolate is just fine for me” – but the girly me equivalent – a book, candy canes (addict) and a new journal would be just fine by me. I actually prefer giving.
Its just that by 9am Christmas Day it all feels so empty and windblown, and no matter how many people I surround myself with I feel so alone.
So Santa Claus, When you get this letter please bring me the peace to accept the long lines when I go Christmas shopping, the serenity to deal with children who have eaten their weight in candy cane and chocolate before 8.30 in the morning and the wisdom to realise that I am doing all of this, the tree, the advent calander, the cake, the family get together to make memories for these children – like the ones i have of white wine in the sun.
(oh, PS – if you get the chance, I really wouldn’t mind an i phone – i need one, really Ido)