Xmas Me-Time!

So, Christmas is a-coming and aren’t we all excited..?! Or do you perhaps feel a little sense of ennui that half the supermarket has been submerged under tinsel and collection boxes of chocolate when there’s still six weeks to go?

It seems to me that mums have the roughest time, because all of the expectation and planning falls on their shoulders. If you don’t think that’s true, ask yourself this? Who will be sending the Christmas cards to your husband/partner’s family…? Come on, be honest, it’s probably you, isn’t it? Because you know that they will send cards to your house and if you naively assume your fella will pull his finger out to send one in return, it won’t get done and there’ll be pursed lips from Great Aunt Ethel about the ingratitude. The same applies to presents for all the extended family, the arrangements over the festive period, the entire food and drink shop and everything else besides. Not to mention all the paraphernalia the kids will need.

Last year Asda cottoned on to the fact that mothers undertook this mammoth task every year. Their blurb read – ‘we know that there’s a mum working hard to make it magical for the whole family – that’s the theme of our latest TV ad.’ The advert featured our pretty blonde heroine, sometimes dishevelled, but always cute and winsome, as she heroically battled on through all the tasks. The tree won’t fit in the car – how amusing; the lights for the tree are all tangled – bust a gut; there’s only a pouffe for her to sit on at the Christmas table – stop now, it’s really hurting. But she doesn’t mind, you see. When she sallies forth to the living room at the end, where all the family are spread-eagled, groaning with food and her husband calls out, ‘What’s for tea, love?’ (ho, ho, ho!); she smiles because all her hard work has paid off. They’re completely ignoring her and are glued to the telly.

‘Behind every great Christmas there’s mum,’ intones the male voiceover, ‘and behind every mum there’s Asda’. Their website eagerly assures us this ad struck a chord with lots of mums who said it’s just like that. Really? Had they all been driven to drink and valium by this stage?

Do you know what I’d like to have seen happen? Halfway through this nauseating tosh Santa Claus comes crashing in. In my imagination, this will be George Clooney, but you can picture whoever you want. He’ll sweep Mum up under his arm (her apron will fall off at this point to reveal a sparkly dress). She’ll announce, ‘Stuff the lot of you (especially you, Great Aunt Ethel), I’m going to enjoy myself…..’ and off they’ll go on his sledge, necking champagne and wolfing caviar.

If this sounds like I whoop things up for the entire fortnight that Christmas now is, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m just as bad as all the other mums, including our heroine, in doing way more than my fair share. But I’m telling myself, and all of you, to take a bit of time for you. A lot of the stuff is not necessary. Have a long bath, go out to the pictures, read in bed while eating all the choccies. The world won’t fall apart and you’ll be able to resume duties with a lighter heart. Have a truly lovely Christmas.

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