Christmas in the post-War United States (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It’s the first of December so I thought I would start as I mean to go on: blogging about Christmas. Or, to be accurate, re-blogging about Christmas. This is the third time this post has been posted on December 1st. I have to re-post it – it’s on the list.
Don’t judge me – I bet there isn’t one of you who hasn’t ‘re-gifted’ in your time. Besides, I’ve had lots of new readers this year who haven’t seen it before. You know I’m not one to waste a good post; or even a bad one.
Because we are big on tradition, our Christmases tend to be the same; only the presents change.
January 2
Take down the tatty remains of the Christmas decorations. Store in Christmas boxes, Christmas sacks, Christmas bags and Christmas suitcase for easy identification in the loft next December.
January 3
Hit the sales (only 356 shopping days left to Christmas). Queue for two hours to get into car park. Buy nothing except the one available unbroken half-price tree decoration.
February 3
Christmas credit card statement arrives. Read it and weep.
March 13
Tilly Bud’s nagging finally coincides with the Hub’s first good day of the year and Christmas decorations are returned to the loft after standing in the upstairs hallway for two months.
NB Now that we have had loft ladders fitted, the nagging is reversed and the Hub insists I drag my lazy backside up there and put away the decorations that I wanted down in the first place.
September Onwards
Christmas adverts start on telly. Ignore them while applying sun block for Indian summer. Ignore the Hub growling, ‘I hate Christmas, I do.’ Complain to everyone we know about how Christmas comes earlier each year but don’t mention the suitcase full of presents we already have stashed away.
At some point in November see Coca-Cola ad; immediately share on Facebook that Christmas is now officially coming.
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Fourth Saturday Before Christmas
Begin watching Christmas movies on Saturday afternoons to get in the festive mood: It’s A Wonderful Life; While You Were Sleeping; Sleepless In Seattle; Terminator 2 (if you’ve been present at some of our Christmas Dinners you’ll get the connection); save the greatest Christmas movie ever made, A Muppet Christmas Carol, until beloved first fruit of my loins comes home for Christmas. Begin boasting to harassed friends about the suitcase full of presents we have stashed away that means our Christmas shopping is complete before anyone else has even started.
NB Didn’t happen this year. Begin hating the better organised people in the world and waste good shopping time on fuming.
December 1
Make list of Christmas cleaning jobs. Stretch out on couch to recover, watching naff Christmas movie on tv. Weep at the wonderful Christmas message about families and being grateful for what we have it contains. Start hinting to the Hub and Spud that we must get the tree and decorations down from loft.
Change blog background to cheesy Christmas theme. Add snow. Refuse to apologise to readers.
Re-post Christmas list post with apologies for re-posting. It can’t be helped; it’s a Christmas tradition; it must be, it’s on the list.
December 9
Search for tree and decorations in loft.
December 10
Search for tree and decorations in loft.
December 11
Find tree and decorations in loft. Get down tree and decorations from loft. Put on cheesy Christmas music to get everyone in the mood. Argue about cheesy Christmas music. Erect tree. Argue. Dress tree with lights and tinsel with boys. Take boys off tinsel. Take lights and tinsel off tree.
Watch the Hub dress tree with lights and tinsel in the correct manner. Sulk.
Share decorations equally between family. Spend ages arguing about who has the most/least/best/yuckiest decorations.
Collapse exhausted into bed.
December 12
Revise December 11’s activities on blog post: since Tory Boy left home, Spud became a teenager and the Hub insisted on being a Christmas Curmudgeon, Tilly puts up the tree by herself, over three days, listening to cheesy Christmas music without male moaning in the background.
Also manages to get tree up by December 11th and clear up the mess. Accidentally vacuums half the tinsel left dangling from the tree since the Hub abdicated responsibility.
December 14
Christmas grocery shopping.
What happened in the supermarket stays in the supermarket.
December 15
Stop shaking.
December 16
Attend carol service with brass band and remember what Christmas is all about: carol singing and brass bands.
Christmas Eve
Lunch time: Take flowers to Dad’s grave (he died Christmas Eve 2000). Miss him.
Ten minutes after lunchtime: Open first bottle of wine/tin of chocolates/box of biscuits.
Afternoon: Throw ecstatic arms around returning first fruit of my loins.
Four p.m.: Attend Christingle at church. Stick sweets and candles in oranges and remember what Christmas is all about.
A picture of a christingle, picture taken by myself. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Dinner Time: Welcome beloved nephew into the fold.
Send excited children to bed on the one night of the year they want to go at six p.m. Spend next eight hours telling them, ‘Santa won’t come until you go to sleep, darlings.’ (Translation: ‘Get to sleep now, you little brats; we’re knackered!’) What? Just because they’re sixteen and twenty-two, doesn’t mean they don’t get excited about getting free stuff.
Cook turkey, gammon, quail (possibly) and chicken; prepare vegetables. Stay up till two a.m. to welcome Santa. Go to bed, leaving on all lights to deter burglars with no Christmas spirit.
Christmas Day
Six-O-Seven: Set up video camera to tape every magical moment as children wait excitedly in the hall.
Seven-O-Seven: Finally accede to the Hub’s assertion that it might be Tilly Bud’s camera, which he knows because he bought it for her, but trust him, he knows what he’s doing and can set it up perfectly well, thank you very much; and stop that sulking, you misery, to which children add, Yeah, Mum.
Seven-O-Eight: Film delight on boys’ faces as they enter Santa’s grotto (temporarily set up in living room).
Seven-Fifteen: Start unwrapping presents, taking turns so that everyone sees what everyone else has got and thanks can be given and received.
Ten-Fifteen: Finish unwrapping presents. Make traditional Christmas breakfast of toast so that everyone has a stomach lining before inevitable munching of Christmas goodies begins.
Ten-Sixteen: Send exhausted Hub to bed for a few hours.
Ten-Thirty: Everyone not sleeping, dresses. Boys disappear to their rooms to play with their new toys, leaving Tilly to clean up. Tilly stretches out on empty couch with Maltesers and one of her new DVDs ignoring mess. Thinks about starting dinner. Snores.
Two-Fifteen: Wake Hub to give his stomach time to prepare to eat large Christmas dinner.
Four-Fifteen: Eat large Christmas dinner.
Rest of day: Rest.
December 29
Discover unticked list of Christmas cleaning jobs tucked down back of couch. Discard.
January 2
Take down the tatty remains of the Christmas decorations. Store in Christmas boxes, Christmas sacks, Christmas bags and Christmas suitcase for easy identification in the loft next December.
January 3
Hit the sales (only 356 shopping days left to Christmas). Queue for two hours to get into car park. Buy nothing except the one available unbroken half-price tree decoration.
For more Six Word Saturdays go here.
The Laughing Housewife 
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