festive resolutions

I find it hard to believe that another Christmas has come and gone. All the build up to this one day and then the presents, food, phone calls and just as quickly it's all over and you spend Boxing Day trying to recover full functionality of your overindulged body. It's the same every year and every Boxing Day I vow to do it differently next time. Not that I haven't loved Christmases gone by, it's just that I wish I could get my act together to start shopping earlier for presents, not spend as much, try not to eat myself into a semi-coma and do more for those who are less fortunate. I haven't done it yet but 2011 is my year for Christmas change!
Take my mom, for instance, who left her shopping to Christmas eve this year (sorry to 'out' you Ma) and I ended up with two right hand gloves. I loved them but she insisted on returning them to the store. On my side, I sent presents all across the world, only to discover yesterday that half of them never arrived. Gutted. I probably should have listened to the lady at the post office when she warned that I had missed the last posting date. I just thought she was trying to make more money out me.
When it comes to lunch, why did we think it necessary to have two roasts, a mountain of vegetables to rival Kilimanjaro as well as two desserts and other snacks? There was so much food we didn't even realise that the Yorkshire puddings had been left in the oven to become the casualties of Christmas lunch.
This year, in my attempt to 'have a Christmas with a difference', I researched helping out at a homeless shelter for the day. I'm sad to say that I was very quickly deterred by the health and safety training and pages of rules and regulations. Perish the thought that one could simply turn up and serving dinner to the needy! I know we need systems in place but I also had a moment where I feared we may be suffocating ourselves in our cotton wool world.
All of this said, we did have a really lovely Christmas this year and let's be honest, the funny stories and traditional chaos is a large part of what makes Christmas special. I just hope that in all the protocol I can stay true, not just to myself, but to the meaning behind it all. It's not just about going to church, but why we go to church. It's not just about a baby in a manger but about who that baby was and is. And as long as I keep that at the centre of it all, who cares if my Boxing Day resolutions are never realised. As long as I remember to rejoice through it all.

drive time

I first started learning to drive about eight years ago. My father volunteered to take me out for my initial attempt behind the wheel. After just one lesson he declared that teaching me to drive would almost certainly ruin our relationship and he handed the responsibility over to Denise, my stepmom. Den was a wonderful instructor but my yearning for freedom was not strong enough to withstand the damage I caused to her new car on impact with a pillar. This little incident set me back about six years and I still shudder whenever I am in an underground parking lot.
For a few months my ever tolerant husband attempted to tutor me in the ways of the road until I could see that his sentiments were starting to align with those of my father. It was time to call in the professionals. After hours, upon hours, of lessons with Michael and too many pounds to want to recall, I passed my test first time, much to all previous 'instructors' amazement. The examiner told me to just ease off the accelerator a little (speeding? me?) otherwise I was now free to brave the streets of London on my own.
No one can prepare you for the neves you experience before that dreaded test. I spent the two days prior to it biting my lip and shaking. Equally, no one can explain the liberty you feel when granted your licence. Oh elation! No more waiting for lifts or freezing unnecessarily at bus stops. Gone are the days of lugging heavy grocery bags down the road.
There is something about obtaining your driver's licence that makes you feel all grown up. I have this urge to just carry my car keys around so that everyone can see I'm a driver. 'That's right Mr Sainbury's man - you see these keys? If I am old enough to drive I am old enough to buy a bottle of wine so you can just refrain from asking me for ID this time.
Fox has generously given me my own car key for 'our' car and now sits biting his tongue when I'm driving. We'll see how long it lasts before he can't resist questioning whether I have seen the cyclist who is a good 100 metres ahead. And now begins many years of repayment by way of 'designated driver'. He knew paying a professional was worth the long term investment. And I'm happy that the testing of my driving capabilities as well as family relationships is now done and dusted. About time too.

finding meaning in the season

The tree is up, I've drunk enough mulled wine to float a small cruise liner and presents have been bought, wrapped and sent off to various corners of the globe. Yet, despite all these Christmas activities, I'm just not feeling the festive cheer this year. Perhaps I started on the mince pies before I should have and peaked too early. Maybe I'm just nostalgic about family scattered too far to join together for a nice big lunch. Then again, if I'm really honest with myself, I think I may just be forgetting what Christmas is really all about. The decorations have been up in shops for two months already and the lights on Oxford St are giant presents this year. One can't help but feel that the festive season has been hijacked to serve the interests of commercialism and it takes strong defences not to be caught up in the Christmas rush. I recently became all emotional watching a segment on The One Show that did a story on a group of school kids who had won toys on the show the week before. After acknowledging that they didn't really need more toys for themselves, they took the gifts to a local hospice and not only hand-delivered the toys, but stayed to play too. That really warmed the cockles of my little heart. And I realised why I'm not yet full of the joy of the season. So I'm banishing the thought that Christmas has become a routine of obligations. This is a time to celebrate Christ's birth and all that it means. Christmas is not about me; it's about making others know that they are loved. So, if I walk up to you and give you a big grizzly bear hug, just humour me. I'm just embracing the season for all that it means. Merry Christmas!