A Stamps Christmas has evolved over the years. I’m the eldest of a few cousins and Dad only has one brother. Mum’s family have always lived in the next suburb and growing up we were always at their house. So, Christmas has always been a low-key affair.
Recently the cousins have married, started their own family and my brother has given me three nephews. However, the numbers on Christmas Day are still minimal. Cousin Erin will have lunch at the in-laws wile my brother will alternate travel days. The commute with three boys under 8 asking “are we there yet?” is tough.
Despite the small attendance, Christmas will still require virtual Panadol (and actual Panadol after devouring the third serving of Christmas lunch and to support me through the Breakfast Mimosa regrets).
You feel me. Christmas is tough. Forced conversations, present buying and left overs for daaaaaayyyyyyyzzzzzz!
The family’s made the smart decision to outsource the heavy lifting this year. We’re at the pub for lunch, with dessert at Mum’s. My brother’s already debated 27 times if he’ll be attending Christmas Day. After 329 reviews of the vegan menu, with several calls to the Hotel kitchen, they have decided to come to lunch.
Dad will pick up the beer and wine on the Friday while he’s at the RSL organising the Christmas raffle. He’ll then drink it across the weekend while watching reruns of the 1976 test. While restocking the drink to festive days ratio, he’ll complain about the lines at the Bottle-O Christmas Eve and argue why everyone leaves it to the last minute.
Mum will ask me right up to Christmas Eve if I’m still able to make dessert. She’ll offer to buy the ingredients, because she needs to have the day finalised last August. I’m an employed fully grown adult human. I can navigate through a supermarket. Sure, I spent 35 minutes walking around the new Woolworths at Warralily Village looking for the taco kits. It was long week programming music. I wasn’t in peaking food shopping form.
Then there’s Nanna. Will she come? Will she stay home after deciding she doesn’t like pub food after agreeing to a pub lunch? Old people, right? Zero filter. Therefore, we rock paper scissors the responsibility of picking her up. I’ve had a solid streak of avoiding that job. My patience for car banter with Nan rapidly dissipated after we once “discussed” why her theory that everyone is incompetent so far removed from being correct. All while she made a string of racist remakes. Again; old people, right?
Your family are the socks and jocks at Christmas when you really wanted a new handbag and tickets to Ed Sheeran. You learn to appreciate them. They are comfortable, reliable and they will be there when you need them.
So, if you need me this December 25, I’ll be in the back shed with a mimosa.
Merry Christmas Friends.
You can find Stampsy on all the socials – Facebook, Insta, Twitter @only1stampsy
Stampsy is the Music Director and Drive Announcer at K Rock in Geelong.