Where are our 24 days of joy?!
Anyone else got end-of-yearitis? It’s rife in our house, the kids are a bit ratty and yet in a cruel paradox this is also the busiest they’ve been all year with dance recital (and multiple practices), end of year picnics, Santa visits, it sometimes feels like they’re operating entirely on the sugar high received from their advent calendars each morning. Except for the mornings I forget to put anything in their (cue gross injustice and hysteria). Sh*t! (Pause while I go and put something in their advent calendars…. sigh….)
I occasionally forget to put something in their advent calendars, because this time of year, I’m all out of steam. Usually, I’d be in auto pilot in December; up until midnight making 20 dozen of my nana’s famous marshmallow balls for my team. I’m generally on the cusp of gout brought on by unending Christmas parties, not forgetting the carefully planned and documented schedule of gifts. All while maintaining the ‘normal’ mum stuff, perfectly depicted by this statue in Tottelanega, Spain.
This year is a bit different. A Christmas party for a start-up with just me in attendance is definitely less debauched than black tie for 500 with someone else’s card behind the bar paying for the flaming Sambuca’s that sends the GM HR into a frenzied panic. The absence of a regular (or in fact any!) salary, means everyone on the list is getting the same thing, and spoiler alert for my friends and family, yes, it’s homemade.
I’m busy and tired, but instead of office politics and busy and tired employees as well as children, it’s carefully creating together your boxes of lovely to give you the wee lift that is so deserved each month (and this time of year needed more than ever!). It’s conspiring with you to bring anonymous lovely surprises to your friends and family – bathing in your thoughtfulness and generosity. It’s making sure I’ve put together enough Random Acts of Lovely for the Women’s Refuge Christmas lunch, all amazing feelings for sure.
But even with the with all the warm fuzzies, and without the late nights, travel and gout from my old life, my energy levels are depleted, and I know I’m not the only one. Without even opening the pandoras box of debt, loneliness and family arguments, Christmas is a stressful time. The burden of perfection and looking after everyone else’s needs just intensifies. WHY did I lovingly decorate tasteful wooden calendars for each of the girls that I now need to creatively fill with bits and bobs each year?! WHY did I order my husband a special Pork Scratching calendar when I find it so gross and it results in 24 days of disdainful looks normally reserved for when he drinks whiskey and then breathes on me? W(here)TF is my advent calendar?!?!?!
You don’t need Society of Lovely to give you permission to indulge, when we do all this and more day in, day out. Just bloody do it and treat yourselves and other amazing (and slightly neurotic) women in your lives. And watch out for Advent Calendars in next months November boxes of lovely.
PS – if you are a better woman than me and brought your own advent calendar, I salute you. If you went one step further and it is the Jo Malone one, you are either my hero, or I’m so envious that we can’t be friends anymore. I can’t decide.