Christmas Story: What I Love About Christmas

From when I was very young, Christmas has always been a very special time of year for me and my family. For my mum, it's the chance to see her sister and brother-in-law. She and my aunt will then proceed to sit, prepare the Christmas dinner and Be Irish; this is the only possible way I can describe how they talk to each other, what with the slang and the jibes and the accents that occur during this special time.

For my dad, it's a chance to sit with my uncle in the living room, drink beer (or mulled wine, if Mum can be convinced to make it) and 'sledge' each other's cricket teams, though it's all in the name of fun. In recent years, my older brother has been invited to join them, being deemed old enough to do so.

Christmas to me is a combination of both these things, but I also have my own role; for the last three or four years, it has been my responsibility to make sure the house is tastefully decorated to represent the season. Since leaving for university, however, this usually means that the tinsel stays in the attic until December 15^th or so.

However, I take this job very seriously; directing my brother to hang tinsel where I cannot reach and making sure all the Christmas cards that the family have received are correctly aligned. Everything has to be prepared for my aunt and uncle's arrival and I make sure that, the moment they walk in the door, they look around and see nothing but holiday cheer.

I will admit that I can be quite anal-retentive about the whole thing, especially since Mum forces my brother to help and I have no trouble directing him like the scary 5'2"-tall general I can be. As a result of this, Christmas means 'Kim shouts at me...a lot.' to my brother, along with 'I can't afford this!' (an attitude shared by my parents) and 'Kim, please stop playing the Christmas CD over and over again...'.

Yes, we have Christmas CDs and yes, I demand that they be played when I come home - though not as constantly as my family would have people believe. I can't explain it, but Christmas always seems to bring out the slightly spoiled child aspect in me, even at my age - and I haven't even begun to describe Christmas Day yet!

Christmas Eve is, in comparison to the main event, a reserved affair in our household. The family takes their pick of the television programmes offered until about midnight, when Mum still tries to convince me that Santa won't come if I don't go to bed at that exact moment. Obviously, I know that she actually means 'I want to get to bed before 3 a.m. this year and I can't do that until the stockings are done!'

It may seem odd that someone over the age of 12 has a stocking, but it's a tradition that has just stuck in my family; a kind of 'present before the presents', in a way. As such, I still leave out a mince pie and a beer for 'Santa', knowing that as soon as I go to bed the beer will go back in the fridge and Dad will eat the pastry goodness that Mum cooked herself earlier that day.

And so I head up to bed; recently, I've managed to sleep for at least 4 hours. I usually try and wait until about 8 a.m. before I go downstairs and eat the chocolates in my stocking. Sometimes, if Mum's feeling cruel, she'll put a Satsuma there instead and hide the chocolate until later.

About an hour later, my dad will come down and I'll show him what 'Santa' brought me before thanking him (and my mum when she gets up); we'll watch TV together until my mum gets up about half an hour later. Soon after that, my aunt and uncle make an appearance; now all we have to do is wait for my brother. Ever year, I itch to go and wake him up myself, but I'm a good sister, really; I usually wait until Mum sends me up before waking him gently and telling him that he's the last one awake again.

I can't even begin to tell you about the full preparation of the Christmas feast, but the end result always makes me think of Dickens' A Christmas Carol, when the entire family is sitting with Scrooge around a feast fit for a king. Christmas music is put on (of course - I'm there!), crackers are pulled, rubbish jokes told and then most of the food is eaten. I still believe that Mum, my aunt and I only cook so much food so that we can rest until after New Year!

Afterward, everyone retreats to the living room to watch yet more season-oriented programming and to drink more wine. This is my favourite part of the day, because we're just sharing each other's company as a family - something we don't get to do a lot, as mum's sister lives in Ireland and I'm off at university for most of the year. It's a great time to be home, because it just makes me realise exactly what I'm coming home to; a family who cares, who doesn't mind that I still experience that pure childish love of the season and who will always welcome me back from my travels.

On that note, I'd like to wish everyone reading this a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. And please, when you decorate your houses and invite family and friends over, remember the silly immature love of the season that children have, and try and experience it for yourselves.