"It's November, and I'm already thinking about 'the work' of Christmas."

Listen to this story being read by Laura Jackel, here.

Last night as I sat with my family eating dinner, one of my sons excitedly mentioned it was only 47 days until Christmas. 

I nearly choked on my chicken as I feigned enthusiasm while also eyeballing the orange Halloween bucket still full of lollies sitting mere metres from my face.

Has Halloween crept closer to Christmas? Didn't they used to be in entirely different seasons?

Watch: The things mums never say at Christmas. Post continues below.

Before you accuse me of being a festive grinch, I want you to know that I love Christmas, or at least I love the 'idea' of Christmas. 

I love festive movies (especially Love Actually and It’s a Wonderful Life), the music, the twinkly lights, the gift giving, and the opportunity to eat a lot of cheese and celebrate with loved ones. 

In theory, Christmas is THE most wonderful time of the year... until I remember I am an adult and must do all the things that make it so damn wonderful. 

After two years of pandemic life complete with isolation, anxiety, and lockdowns, I am keen to embrace as much festive fun as I can, hopefully without a side order of this season's Omicron variant. But as keen as I am, it's only a week into November and I am already knackered thinking about the 'work' involved. And I don’t have to go very far to be reminded that Christmas is fast approaching.

The seasonal aisle at the supermarket has spread across three aisles, all of them bedecked in tinsel and laden with tubs of gaudy baubles, teacher gift ideas (hand cream and candle set anyone?), and giant boxes of wrapped chocolates. Even just checking my inbox which shouts about 'gift guides' has become a daily reminder of my failings as a disorganised mother.

Every year it feels like the Christmas madness starts earlier and earlier; where once the planning and festivities began with the first day of advent in December, now it begins the moment that Halloween ends. 

Author and podcaster Anne Helen Peterson sums this up perfectly in her latest essay about ‘sprawling holidays’. 

"I’d wager most people who didn’t grow up regular churchgoers have little understanding of what advent is, other than an opportunity to open a small door every day to a new mini gift," Peterson writes.

"In this way, commodification and consumption becomes the primary way that Christmas is expressed, is experienced. The primary affect is one of near-constant purchasing, unboxing, arranging — a vigilant doing — as opposed to periods of observation, contemplation, devotion, being."

Peterson writes too about how all the work of 'performing Christmas' has traditionally fallen on the shoulders of women. Hands up if you can relate?

Like so much of the unpaid mental and physical load assigned to women, conjuring the nonspecific 'magic of Christmas' is vague and all-encompassing. 

It includes (but is not limited to): home and tree decorations (sourcing, storing, theming and installing), the annual Santa photo shoot and any required outfits, attending school or work concerts and parties, the thought around gifting (would Nana like that and where can I find it at the best price), the card writing (retro, but okay), the gift wrapping, the menu planning, the table decorating, and the food preparation.

Then there's all the shopping. So. Much. Shopping. 

As we're still in November, I have this idealistic vision of future me doing some relaxed late night Christmas shopping in lovely boutiques with a glass of champagne in hand while Michael Bublé tunes play gently in the background. 

In reality, I know EXACTLY how it will play out. Come mid-December, I will curse as I try to find a rare car space at the mall, then spend a few hours racing around badly lit retailers panic buying random items, then standing in long queues with sore feet worrying about cost - but also with Michael Bublé playing in the background. 

Even if you sensibly save time and stress by doing your shopping online, there's still the endless scrolling, decision making, delivery time coordination, and cost.

On top of ticking off items on the Christmas shopping list, there’s also the decision making about whether to support local business, whether to buy cheap plastic knick-knacks that instantly become landfill, whether to save money by buying from superstores, or whether just to buy very little and disappoint the kids. 

In the past, my husband Jules and I have tried many approaches to reduce the work and test the ethical dilemmas of Christmas. There's been years we have tried no gifts for each other, or experiential gifts only. Years we have been away for Christmas (before kids) and when our kids were babies, we tried buying secondhand gifts only.

Now with a tweenager and a five-year-old as well as 15 nieces and nephews, grandparents, and many aunties and uncles to buy for, we do a family 'Secret Santa' via an app. It saves on some of the work of the extended family shopping but doesn't include our own kids who need pressies from us and from that somewhat lazy Santa Claus.

But it’s not just all the gift planning and shopping, it’s the diary logistics on top.

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Back in October we already knew the dates for work Christmas parties and school socials. I am so happy to see people socially again, but a tiny part of me misses the years where everything got cancelled - if nothing else but for my cholesterol.

Everyone has a choice in how much they get swept along by the festive tidal wave of activity and consumption, but it is challenging to opt out of too much - especially when you have beautiful bright-eyed kids with long wish lists.

Peterson writes in her essay about how the modern 'Santa-fication' of today's festive season is a relatively modern phenomenon considering Jesus was born a couple of thousand years ago.

"Christmas as we now understand it — as a cultural, child-centred phenomenon — was a 19th century invention, in part popularised by American author Washington Irving’s incredibly popular collection of Christmas essays, set in a warm and cozy English manor where all the rich people and peasants co-mingle peacefully and 'ancient' traditions abound."

From a Christian festival to ancient traditions across the class divide and gifts from old Saint Nick, morphing into today's epic consumer-fest with matching family pyjamas and Santa pet photoshoots, the Christmas season sure has changed. 

As part of a nonreligious family, I question whether it is still possible to find real meaning in and amongst the frenzied activity, list-making, and excessive consumption of a modern Christmas?

Growing up in the 80s and 90s in the UK, my parents and grandparents took me to church at Christmas every year. We learnt about advent at school and sang sweet carols about baby Jesus, his humble birth, and the three kings who came to give gifts. I no longer consider myself religious and there's lots I don't miss about church and Catholicism, but I miss the idea that Christmas had a greater purpose and meaning, quietly humming alongside all the fun and frivolity. 

I occasionally fantasise about taking the kids to Fiji in mid-December and just escaping the madness of it all, but I think that in place of religion, our Christmas traditions have become about being with extended family and enjoying good food, company, and lots of fun. There will also be the frenzied present opening and sugared up tantrums - we're only human.

While Christmases past seemed to incorporate plenty of time for feasting, reflection, and then rest; these days most people feel the real 'holiday' and rest doesn't begin until Boxing Day. And I guess that's okay - as long as some rest is on the cards.

Right now, I need to summon the energy and get prepared. I only have 47 days left, so I better hurry and get writing some lists, before it's time to start planning the Easter egg hunt.

Ho Ho Ho.

Laura Jackel is Mamamia's Family Writer. For links to her articles and to see photos of her outfits and kids, follow her on Instagram and TikTok.

Feature Image: Supplied/Canva

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