St Stephen's Day and Chill

If you're the present buyer, supermarket shopper, chef, visit arranger, chauffeur and cleaner of your Christmas, the lead up to the big day and the day itself can be exhausting. From today ‘til New Year’s Eve may be boring for lots of people but the women who make Christmas happen for their families know the joy in lying on the sofa with a tub of Heroes and doing nothing for a few days. Here's a piece about the joy of relinquishing all control.

I am a control freak. It’s not a hard thing to admit to. You can’t deny such a thing so blatantly obvious. I like things done a certain way. It’s not perfection I’m after really, it’s more a let me do it thing. And a little perfection I suppose. My husband thinks it’s a bit ridiculous, but not enough to stop me because truthfully I think he likes the level of loveliness that comes with my controlling ways. Christmas is tricky for people like me. I’m not sure what I’ll do when my children are old enough to want to decorate the tree. I’ll probably have to buy a third one just for them to do. Our big tree has decorations I’ve been collecting for almost 20 years and it’s a thing of great beauty. I can tell you where they’re from, what was happening and who I was when I bought them. I can see different versions of myself in each of them. That tree is beautiful, everyone who sees it says so and I take great pride in it. The second tree is in our hall and is a tall, thin one from our old house. It has just six very large glass baubles on it. How strange you might think, me too, I don’t know why I started that but it’s the way it is now and will be forevermore. See? I’ll definitely need a third tree for the kids.

Like so many others we had dinner in our own house this year. It felt like the right thing to do. We did a little visiting on Christmas morning but came home to our haven for turkey, ham and all the extras. I love to cook so it was no hardship but the pressure I felt to produce The Greatest Christmas Dinner That Ever Was became immense.

No one had asked me to produce a Downton Abbey feast, no one made me feel that way. It was all me and my unhelpful head.

But I do this about everything at this time of year. I buy extra presents, more fairy lights, bows for the trees outside. When my daughter was seven months old and experiencing her first Christmas, I tried to make her sit by the fire with me as I read her The Night Before Christmas. She wriggled and squirmed and stared pleadingly at her dad to free her from the clutches of the woman screaming ‘It’s MAGICAL’.

I know I’m not alone. In so many houses it’s the women that are responsible for hanging stockings, having fresh bread for the sandwiches and so many extra batteries that the house could probably power the national grid. Yes, I know #notallwomen #notallmen, but it’s true that it’s usually women who are focussed on the tiny details that not many men would notice. And I also know that that’s our own fault and that Christmas would still be perfectly lovely without any of the minuscule but magical extras.

I also know now though that this level of micromanaging is unsustainable and even attempting to keep it up could be the end of me. So last year, on St Stephen’s Day, I stopped. I put on pyjamas, took to the couch with a tub of sweets and a drink and relinquished control. If someone was calling over my husband got sent to the shops for scones or mince pies. Dinner was foraged from the freezer or pantry (though I do need to admit that my controllingness means that we could potentially eat from our pantry for about four months without ever needing a shop) and I put my feet up.

It was a revelation. Everyone was happy, everyone was relaxed and I have enough self-awareness to know that maybe that was because I was happy and relaxed and not forcing a small child to keep yet another Christmas dress clean while I fed her a fancy sprout concoction. I asked what was on TV – the only part of Christmas my husband is controlling about is making an incredibly detailed Christmas TV recording schedule that needs the RTE Guide and at least one newspaper supplement – I ate ham sandwiches and trifle and took occasional naps.

I took the reins again on New Year’s Eve for a family party and fed 18 a homemade curry and two homemade desserts and drinks and sweets and sandwiches. It was nice to feel like myself again, but only for one day.

That gap between Christmas and the New Year can seem so boring to so many people. But if you are the Christmas organiser in your house, if you are the magic maker for your family or housemates or the friends you visit it is a glorious reprieve from the stress of perfection.

I’ve decided to make it an annual thing. A mini-break from my controlling mind, a chance to switch off and shut down my inner Director of Operations.

Last Christmas I was just six weeks away from having my second daughter, which might have made the naps and sweets and relaxation more of a necessity than a choice and I hope I can manage to switch off as well this year. I mean we’ve nowhere to go and nothing to do but that hasn’t stopped me from micromanaging all year. Maybe I’ll stick a cushion up my jumper to remind myself to stop and take it all in. Horizontally. From the couch.

Jennifer Stevens, December 2020.