Let it go
Until very recently Christmas was my ultimate favourite time of year. The entire season filled me with so much overwhelming fizzy excitement that at times I struggled to physically contain it and simply burst with festive cheer.
The feeling always begins around about mid September with the gradual arrival of Autumn. The trees begin to shine with a vast array of jewel like leaves and the landscape becomes a glorious golden display of mother natures most glorious colour palette, I gaze endlessly at the view unable to walk anywhere without looking up in wonder at the enchanting leaves or scrunching my boots through the technicolour debris.
The warm summery smells of cut grass and sun baked earth surrender themselves to the deep earthy scents and woody acrid smells of leaf mulch and bonfires, a wild and more natural smell. I begin to feel the wild stirring within as I inhale deeply on misty autumn mornings or scrunch my way through woody pathways, I feel completely connected to nature as though this is my time, time to shine, my season when I am totally connected to the world and I feel very mother earth powerful. As the sun shines so does my creativity and I begin always to prepare for the winter with craft projects and squirreling away preserves.
Slowly, the days become shorter, mittens and hats appear and glittering lights begin to creep in along with the fizzing sense of excitement, cosy baking sessions fill the house with scents and delicious treats and magical decorations festoon houses and shops. I revel in the hours spent wrapping meticulously chosen gifts and preparing handmade treats, when I left home I would strive to recreate traditions and Christmas preparations from my childhood.
Slowly but surely Christmas arrives, Work buzzes excitedly and I flit from party to gathering, to kitchen in a cloud of glitter and cinnamon a sense of wild anticipation hovering over every event. I feel glamorous, beautiful and snuggly. The day itself arrives and I am filled with childish joy at giving, receiving and sharing with my family around me. I can remember feeling this Christmassy buzz ever since I was a child (even the couple of dark teenage years or the early years when I point blank refused to have my stocking in my bedroom for fear of old men creeping around whilst I was sleeping...)
I am not sure when it began to happen and I think it was a gradual and subtle thing but this year I am struggling hugely to find the Christmas fizz. I feel that what once came naturally to me I am having to hunt down desperately this year, I don't feel the sparkle and glamour but hard work and effort and a pressure to build a perfect Christmas.
It mightve begun the year I got engaged; I had always had fiercely romantic notions and daydreams- read and watched too many christmas books and films- about a Christmas proposal. I admittedly had one once, when I was pretty young, which was pretty Christmassy but just not Christmassy enough (e.g. not how I would have done it in my wild romantic daydreams.) Then when I finally had a very Christmassy proposal involving an ice rink no less, just a few days after the big day itself, it was strange. I obviously was madly excited and happy about the engagement and the marriage to follow but it was odd. The following Christmas I was a married woman and although I had gained a lovely husband and new name I had also (and i'm sure he will hate me a little for saying this) lost a certain amount of anticipation around Christmas, two magical things would now never happen at Christmas ever again, I would never wonder if my boyfriend was going to spring open a tiny velvet box and present me with a gorgeous diamond ring beneath the glittering foliage of a huge christmas tree, and turn me into a dazzling, glamorous Fiancee, nor would I swish about in a glittering dress being a Christmas bride.
The second shift in my Christmas cheer was the sudden realisation that it was very difficuilt to get tiddly on mulled wine and watch christmas films all evening when you had to get up and stupid o clock in the morning to peel vegetables and shove a turkey in the oven. Likewise the month of December and lets face it the end of November were suddenly dedicated to having to madly dash around selecteing presents for EVERYONE and their dog and meticulously planning an dourchasing food and drink.
As I stood in my freezing kitchen at 6am on Christmas morning, waiting for coffee to brew and watching as kitchen lights across the neighborhood flicked on I suddenly realised what Christmas must feel like to most "grown ups." Suddenly, Christmas day was not just about eating good food and sharing gifts and having a laugh it was about chopping, peeling and worrying if everything would be cooked at the right time. It is no longer my purpose to rock up with a ridiculously christmassy cake and a few handmade hampers! It is now suddenly my job to BRING CHRISTMAS to our immediate family.
Last year, I struggled to find my Christmas fizz full stop. I was on maternity leave and had a 4 month old, it was his first Christmas but we were also in a mad fog of absolutely no sleep and a rather stressful adjustment to having a new born around. Now that I have friends with babies and I see what they are doing for their first Christmas I feel somewhat guilty that Oscar was not treated with the same level of first Christmas excitement as their children have been. But not only did I host Christmas on 2,5 hours of sleep including handmade Christmas cakes and Cranberry sauce, I also managed to festoon the house in Christmas decorations and dress up to the nines (as far as breast feeding and spit up will allow.
This year I feel utterly bereft. My Christmas fizz is pretty much non existant and I am finding myself trying to inject it into my life every which way I can. Every Christmas market I have tried to go to has been ridiculously disappointing or worse cancelled! The switch from Autumn to winter that usually brings anticipation for hot chocolates, mittens and christmas lights has been replaced with a heartfelt longing for the golden sunshine of autumn that seemed to pass me by before I could fish out my bobble hat! We have somehow ended up with a wonky Christmas tree that is struggling to have a "good side" and looks a little bit like something we found in the gutter and took pity on, said tree is also so small that it fits delicately on our toddler proofed coffee table, devoid of its usual pile of artfully wrapped parcels, the tasteful array of collected baubles and decorations that hold so many memories are squirrelled away in a box out of harms way from my raucous toddler, the scant smattering of Christmas decorations that have made it onto the tree are removed daily by said toddler -not placed into the cleverly supplied tin for posting such things- and spread around the house then replaced hastily after he has gone to bed in the evening by me or my husband in such a way that it looks like the tree has been dressed by someone wearing a blindfold...
The usually winter cleaned house that sits, tidily waiting for the arrival of guests and cosy evenings is a whirlwind of upturned toys, emptied cupboards and floors in desperate need of a hoover as my explorative child wreaks havoc through the house, the scent of fresh baking and cinnamon has been replaced by cat litter that is constantly overdue a change and the slightly sticky marmitey smell that pervades my son.
This year Christmas feels a bit wrong, it feels like it is hurtling towards me and I am powerless to stop it and have no time to drink it in. I feel like before I know it it will be over and it will be another year I didn't make that family photo Christmas card or buy matching Christmas jumpers. I feel that I finally understand why my mother always said she wasn't ready for things until after they had happened.
As I write this I have been struggling to think of an ending for this piece which has no obvious purpose but is more of a collection of my thoughts which needed extracting from the messy storage cabinet of my mind. I find writing is carthatic and often helps me to organise my thoughts and feelings and pin point exactly what they might be. its a form of mindful meditation that helps me to refocus. After writing this piece I have realised that Christmas has changed and as a mum and a wife it has evolved from the carefree fizzy festivities of yesteryear and into something else. It is true that I am not ready to surrender the childish fizzy excitement and that I am clinging onto that feeling, which in my opinion is a good thing! But what needs to happen in the next few years is that I need to pause and relish the change, I need to accept that my role in Christmas has changed and that now I have a son of my own I am responsible for creating that fizz for him. Its my turn to create for him the festive memories that I have of my childhood.
Christmas is utterly what you make it and I think it is time to begin creating our own traditions and festive rituals which can develop and evolve as our children and (hopefully) house grows! Although I am struggling to find my fizz this year I am determined not to let it go and instead need to learn flexibility and to take back a bit of the carefree joy from my childhood in order to turn it from a pressurised atmosphere that is trying desperatley to loook like the front cover of good house keeping and instead embrace it for the slightly wonky, mismatched glasses and a garden chair event that it is much more likley to be. Sometimes you just have to let it go....(its easier said than done.)
The warm summery smells of cut grass and sun baked earth surrender themselves to the deep earthy scents and woody acrid smells of leaf mulch and bonfires, a wild and more natural smell. I begin to feel the wild stirring within as I inhale deeply on misty autumn mornings or scrunch my way through woody pathways, I feel completely connected to nature as though this is my time, time to shine, my season when I am totally connected to the world and I feel very mother earth powerful. As the sun shines so does my creativity and I begin always to prepare for the winter with craft projects and squirreling away preserves.
Slowly, the days become shorter, mittens and hats appear and glittering lights begin to creep in along with the fizzing sense of excitement, cosy baking sessions fill the house with scents and delicious treats and magical decorations festoon houses and shops. I revel in the hours spent wrapping meticulously chosen gifts and preparing handmade treats, when I left home I would strive to recreate traditions and Christmas preparations from my childhood.
Slowly but surely Christmas arrives, Work buzzes excitedly and I flit from party to gathering, to kitchen in a cloud of glitter and cinnamon a sense of wild anticipation hovering over every event. I feel glamorous, beautiful and snuggly. The day itself arrives and I am filled with childish joy at giving, receiving and sharing with my family around me. I can remember feeling this Christmassy buzz ever since I was a child (even the couple of dark teenage years or the early years when I point blank refused to have my stocking in my bedroom for fear of old men creeping around whilst I was sleeping...)
I am not sure when it began to happen and I think it was a gradual and subtle thing but this year I am struggling hugely to find the Christmas fizz. I feel that what once came naturally to me I am having to hunt down desperately this year, I don't feel the sparkle and glamour but hard work and effort and a pressure to build a perfect Christmas.
It mightve begun the year I got engaged; I had always had fiercely romantic notions and daydreams- read and watched too many christmas books and films- about a Christmas proposal. I admittedly had one once, when I was pretty young, which was pretty Christmassy but just not Christmassy enough (e.g. not how I would have done it in my wild romantic daydreams.) Then when I finally had a very Christmassy proposal involving an ice rink no less, just a few days after the big day itself, it was strange. I obviously was madly excited and happy about the engagement and the marriage to follow but it was odd. The following Christmas I was a married woman and although I had gained a lovely husband and new name I had also (and i'm sure he will hate me a little for saying this) lost a certain amount of anticipation around Christmas, two magical things would now never happen at Christmas ever again, I would never wonder if my boyfriend was going to spring open a tiny velvet box and present me with a gorgeous diamond ring beneath the glittering foliage of a huge christmas tree, and turn me into a dazzling, glamorous Fiancee, nor would I swish about in a glittering dress being a Christmas bride.
The second shift in my Christmas cheer was the sudden realisation that it was very difficuilt to get tiddly on mulled wine and watch christmas films all evening when you had to get up and stupid o clock in the morning to peel vegetables and shove a turkey in the oven. Likewise the month of December and lets face it the end of November were suddenly dedicated to having to madly dash around selecteing presents for EVERYONE and their dog and meticulously planning an dourchasing food and drink.
As I stood in my freezing kitchen at 6am on Christmas morning, waiting for coffee to brew and watching as kitchen lights across the neighborhood flicked on I suddenly realised what Christmas must feel like to most "grown ups." Suddenly, Christmas day was not just about eating good food and sharing gifts and having a laugh it was about chopping, peeling and worrying if everything would be cooked at the right time. It is no longer my purpose to rock up with a ridiculously christmassy cake and a few handmade hampers! It is now suddenly my job to BRING CHRISTMAS to our immediate family.
Last year, I struggled to find my Christmas fizz full stop. I was on maternity leave and had a 4 month old, it was his first Christmas but we were also in a mad fog of absolutely no sleep and a rather stressful adjustment to having a new born around. Now that I have friends with babies and I see what they are doing for their first Christmas I feel somewhat guilty that Oscar was not treated with the same level of first Christmas excitement as their children have been. But not only did I host Christmas on 2,5 hours of sleep including handmade Christmas cakes and Cranberry sauce, I also managed to festoon the house in Christmas decorations and dress up to the nines (as far as breast feeding and spit up will allow.
This year I feel utterly bereft. My Christmas fizz is pretty much non existant and I am finding myself trying to inject it into my life every which way I can. Every Christmas market I have tried to go to has been ridiculously disappointing or worse cancelled! The switch from Autumn to winter that usually brings anticipation for hot chocolates, mittens and christmas lights has been replaced with a heartfelt longing for the golden sunshine of autumn that seemed to pass me by before I could fish out my bobble hat! We have somehow ended up with a wonky Christmas tree that is struggling to have a "good side" and looks a little bit like something we found in the gutter and took pity on, said tree is also so small that it fits delicately on our toddler proofed coffee table, devoid of its usual pile of artfully wrapped parcels, the tasteful array of collected baubles and decorations that hold so many memories are squirrelled away in a box out of harms way from my raucous toddler, the scant smattering of Christmas decorations that have made it onto the tree are removed daily by said toddler -not placed into the cleverly supplied tin for posting such things- and spread around the house then replaced hastily after he has gone to bed in the evening by me or my husband in such a way that it looks like the tree has been dressed by someone wearing a blindfold...
The usually winter cleaned house that sits, tidily waiting for the arrival of guests and cosy evenings is a whirlwind of upturned toys, emptied cupboards and floors in desperate need of a hoover as my explorative child wreaks havoc through the house, the scent of fresh baking and cinnamon has been replaced by cat litter that is constantly overdue a change and the slightly sticky marmitey smell that pervades my son.
This year Christmas feels a bit wrong, it feels like it is hurtling towards me and I am powerless to stop it and have no time to drink it in. I feel like before I know it it will be over and it will be another year I didn't make that family photo Christmas card or buy matching Christmas jumpers. I feel that I finally understand why my mother always said she wasn't ready for things until after they had happened.
As I write this I have been struggling to think of an ending for this piece which has no obvious purpose but is more of a collection of my thoughts which needed extracting from the messy storage cabinet of my mind. I find writing is carthatic and often helps me to organise my thoughts and feelings and pin point exactly what they might be. its a form of mindful meditation that helps me to refocus. After writing this piece I have realised that Christmas has changed and as a mum and a wife it has evolved from the carefree fizzy festivities of yesteryear and into something else. It is true that I am not ready to surrender the childish fizzy excitement and that I am clinging onto that feeling, which in my opinion is a good thing! But what needs to happen in the next few years is that I need to pause and relish the change, I need to accept that my role in Christmas has changed and that now I have a son of my own I am responsible for creating that fizz for him. Its my turn to create for him the festive memories that I have of my childhood.
Christmas is utterly what you make it and I think it is time to begin creating our own traditions and festive rituals which can develop and evolve as our children and (hopefully) house grows! Although I am struggling to find my fizz this year I am determined not to let it go and instead need to learn flexibility and to take back a bit of the carefree joy from my childhood in order to turn it from a pressurised atmosphere that is trying desperatley to loook like the front cover of good house keeping and instead embrace it for the slightly wonky, mismatched glasses and a garden chair event that it is much more likley to be. Sometimes you just have to let it go....(its easier said than done.)
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