‘Tis The Season…
Tonight is Christmas Eve, arbitrary to my faith but incredibly important to my social conditioning. I’m sitting between my boys, watching T play Xbox while R makes us cocktails, listening to T’s tipsy babbling and R’s quiet laugh.
There’s something warm and contentedly understated about the glow from the fairy lights in the haze of smoke hanging in the air, I’m feeling fuzzy and a little sad, but it’s a softly bittersweet kind of sadness and I’m finding I don’t mind so much this year.
T’s working up to a rant, R’s tuning in for random commentary, and it’s nice, like white noise. And, like white noise, its easy to let it wash over me in waves of minimal interaction while I reflect on the year behind us, and the way I just couldn’t seem to care about the holidays this year.
I tried to, I really did. I put up 3 of my 7 trees, planned a menu, spent far too much on food and then completely overcompensated for my lack of festive cheer with extravagant gifts. I’ll be starting the new year with a line of Afterpay debt and a maxed out ZipPay account… the only blank slate is my store cards, with all reward points spent and reset to zero.
I broke all my own rules for frugality, creating realistic workloads, and managing my too high (when directed at myself, too low with everyone else) expectations.
I have to admit I do feel incredibly stupid for the way I place so much pressure on a day that’s never once lived up to this concept I’ve been carefully protecting and consistently failing to create. This completely unrealistic expectation I’ve pieced together like a magpie, scavenging from movies, childhood memories of other peoples stories, and my own immutable belief in magic.
I’m surprisingly okay with how terribly I’m failing at my usual level of completely extra, unnecessarily over the top, baby Martha Stewart-esque ultra christmas spirit.
From elf to ennui in 12 very long, very short, very draining months.
It’s 12:39am, I’m going to go walk around the neighbourhood and look at the lights, perhaps I can steal a little of their sparkle.
Happy Cripso Darlings,