It’s about this time every year that I remind myself to hurry and patent my idea for an advent calendar aimed at working parents filled with a mix of positive affirmations (You got this!), commiserations (Fuck this, but only 10 days to go) and maybe the odd Berocca. Because, frankly, now that Christmas has become a two month affair, some sort of survival kit is definitely required.
That’s not to say that all the pressures of the season aren’t a slog for everyone at times, but the extra challenge for parents is to get through every hangover, shopping centre and rushed bedtime while smiling and nodding enthusiastically, ‘Yes, Father Christmas really is coming soon!! Yes, there will be presents!! whispers hopefully…’, as the to do list grows so long you might as well feather the edges and wrap it around the tree in a decorative style.
At this point in the season, we’ve pretty much established that those ‘must squeeze in a drink before the big day!’ messages can remain ignored - because there can be no more squeezing when you’re already an empty husk. But unfortunately work and parenting can’t be given the same ice treatment, and balancing the two can be a huge problem…
Semi-mandatory work Christmas drinks or long-promised ice skating trip? Finish all your work so you have a job to come back to in 2019 or take a lunch break and do the food shop so you’re not eating fish fingers on Christmas Day? Attend a deal-breaking client meeting or watch your first born wander across the stage while dressed as a snowflake in the school play? Some of it seems like a no brainer, but it can be easier said done. I swear I spent longer agonising over what to buy a literal stranger in the work Secret Santa than my own son last year. This year i’ve barely spent any time thinking about either, which I’ll take as an improvement I guess.
The main positive I’ve taken is that the busier you become, the easier it is to compartmentalise. If you’ve only got an hour a day to drum up some Christmas magic, you can go full Buddy the Elf, whereas if you’ve got oodles of free time, you can take it for granted and fall down an Ocado rabbit hole. Instead of feeling guilty about your lack of spare time, try to imagine yourself as Father Christmas; rarely seen but always jolly and respected. ish.
The other thing I’ve learnt when time is squeezed is that everyone is happier if you prioritise events that all will enjoy, including yourself. Instead of obsessing over which which grotto has the most authentic elves and then spending the day queuing, make plans to hang with friends you all get along with. Or just stay home and stick the Snowman on because you’re really bloody skint and, now that you think about it, ill, but you hadn’t even noticed because that’s just your default setting every December.
But practical solutions aside, it might be time to address where the pressure to have the perfect Christmas comes from. Instagram certainly doesn’t help (seriously, even if you do have time to go ice skating, who had the organisational skills to book it before it sold out last summer?), but the bombardment of happy/smug faces at Christmas is no new thing. And the chances are, they are what have contributed to your idea of what makes the ‘perfect’ Christmas in the first place, rather than your own actual childhood memories, which was undoubtably special even if not idyllic in the traditional sense. The reassurance that Kevin McAllister’s mum screwed up more royalty than any of us is quickly replaced by the WTF that they were attempting to go on such an extravagant trip to Paris in the first place. Chill Mrs McAllister, you are not super-woman. You are a fashion designer with five kids, take it easy.
A survey of 3,000 people carried out by MemoriseThis.com ranked Christmas as the sixth most stressful life event, which isn’t surprising given all the extra pressures. We talk about the stress flippantly rather than seriously. I know a mum who took a sickie so she could go to her daughter’s choir performance because she was too scared to tell her boss the truth in case the request was laughed off. Meanwhile, I know another mum who felt she was being judged by the teachers at her son’s school because she didn’t get involved with the end of year fair. Whether it was her paranoia or not, it feels like you can’t win, so no wonder we’re getting stressed.
When Frank Sinatra recorded a version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas in 1957, he decided the line ‘…we’ll have to muddle through somehow’ was too depressing, thus it was changed to ‘hang a shining star upon the highest bough.’ It’s not depressing, it’s realistic. Because that’s what we do - muddle though, whether we’re working parents, single parents, people without children who get stuck with crap shifts so those who do have them can take time off… We’re all in the Christmas pressure cooker together, and maybe that’s what makes the season special, so maybe let’s not brush the stress under the carpet with all the pine needles next time.
And anyway, don’t worry - your kid/s will probably be up at 4am on Christmas morning so you can make up for lost time then. Joy to all