
I remember my boyfriend’s parents were alerted to my being on the scene when he showed up with thoughtfully-chosen and impeccably-wrapped Christmas gifts.
Even in my early twenties, the notion that Christmas was women’s business was entrenched in my psyche.
I became his personal gift advisory and wrapping service of my own volition.
Things mums never say at Christmas. Post continues after video.
Fast-forward fifteen years and I’m still the self-appointed Christmas manager of my domain.
My husband says we should ditch the gifts and grab a roast chicken to eat at the beach on the big day. While this has obvious appeal, the hold of Christmas obligation always proves stronger. It runs deep in my family.
I don’t want to disappoint my mum who doesn’t want to disappoint her mum—who sits on the precipice of falling off her perch, elevating the obligation to the next level.
And I don’t want to disappoint my kids who base their expectations on Christmas movies and advertising that mandate there should be a massive pile of gifts under their tree.