Something has happened to me this Christmas. I can feel myself secretly dying to morph into Martha Stewart or Delia Smith (a kind of UK equivilant).
I have always loved Christmas as it has meant parties, an excuse to buy a sparkly frock, getting presents, catching up with friends and family, eating too many chocolates in front of an old movie and so on.
This year I have found myself getting excited by the following things instead:
– a Christmas wreath for my front door. I have obsessed to my husband about this for a few weeks now. And now we have one and it is so so pretty.
– putting the tree up on the 1st of December complete with very hectic flashing lights.
– the very stylish wrapping paper I bought which is red and velvet and flocked like wallpaper.
– wrapping all my presents with curly ribbon and bows and placing them artistically under the tree.
– buying cards for that say things like “merry Christmas granny” so I can send them from the munchkin.
– insisting that my husband downloads a Christmas oldies album so I can sing along to Bing, Doris and Frank.
I even wildly considered making my own Christmas decorations from baked gingerbread!!!
My justification for all these attempts at turning myself into a domestic goddess is that it is munchkin’s first Christmas and so it should be “proper”. But he is five months old and is only interested in shoving my very expensive flocked wrapping paper into his drooly little gob.
Has this domestic homeloving side always been there and now I have a child it is ok to let it out? I guess I feel like I’m a mum now and that’s what mums do. I feel it in a good way though, no pressure to do any of it. I can’t wait till next year to do things like bake cookies with the munchkin who will understand it all a bit more.
Can someone remind me a few years down the line when I am frantically making a nativity costume at 2am and realising I forgot to buy the turkey that I once had time to wrap presents in fancy paper and curl ribbon and I thought I was the perfect mum?