Want peace on earth this Christmas? Maybe we should start easing the impossible mental load carried by women — mothers in particular — during the festive season.
For those who need some insight into the goings-on in the mind of the average mother in the lead up to Christmas, here is a 3-minute inner-monologue:
“What was the costume Miss 7 needed for Carols By Candlelight, again? A donkey. Why are they doing a nativity scene, anyway? Didn’t the P&C vote against that? I’d know if I’d gone to more than two meetings this year. For 2018 I’m going to sync the school’s calendar with my Outlook Calendar. Can you do that? Shit. The preschool’s presentation night is the same night as my office Christmas Party. Open bar v Jingle Bell Rock. Shame v resentment. Have guitar lessons finished for the year? Why aren’t there any newspapers around when you need to stuff a pair of pantyhose to make a fucking donkey’s tail? I’m just gonna rip up my Frankie magazines. I’m too old and lacking in creative whimsy for them anyway. Where have all the needles gone and why can’t Miss 7 sew on her own donkey tail. The kid just programmed a working vending machine that spews out rubies on Minecraft. Which reminds me, is that red Christmas dress still gonna fit her? Do we need another dash to Kmart? I need to check my bank balance. Cos I need to get the photos of the kids made into calendars for Christmas presents. Save them to a USB. Why doesn’t anyone put the USBs back in the USB caddy? WHERE ARE MY NEEDLES? These festive shoes feel like they’re cutting off my circulation. Maybe it’s diabetes. Maybe I’ve porked up. Shit, I need to put in an order for the ham. Maybe on the way to print the calendars. And I really, really need to tell the family that we’re doing an Upcycled Christmas this year. It’s important to me. Buy nothing new. I saw it on Facebook. No more crap from Kmart, except for the calendars. And the Christmas dress. And another light-up pair of Rudolf earrings cos these ones have stopped flashing. But Mr 10 wants a racing drone from some dodgy website for Christmas. Will it get here in time from China? Can you even get upcycled drones? I’ll email and ask. Where’s the email address? Where are all the USBs? WHERE ARE MY NEEDLES and how are we going to be able to afford a drone? I’m just going to staple the donkey-fucking-tail on. I need to remind myself to buy more staples when we get the Christmas calendar printing ordered. Will they arrive at the in-laws in time? Seriously, what is it with grown men not buying and posting Christmas presents for their own parents? I read today that a year after separation, four out of five women reported much higher happiness scores and fewer substance misuse issues. Maybe we can dash out before parent-teacher interviews and get a bottle of wine for that teacher who is leaving. Does he even know we have parent teacher interviews? I think the bottle shop is doing 2-for-1 deals. Four out of five. These not-flashing reindeer earrings are making my earlobes swell. Maybe I do have diabetes. I can’t believe the office party is on the same night as the preschool presentation night. FML. Maybe we could just leave the kids at home during parent-teacher interviews? What could happen? When was the last time I checked the batteries on the smoke alarm? I used to change them when I changed the clocks for daylight saving but this whole fucking house is now run through the internet. Could you just TURN OFF the computer and help me stuff the fucking DONKEY TAIL?”
As the herald angels sang to the clueless partner: “Peace on earth and mercy mild. Buy your folks’ presents yourself. You’re not a child.”
