It all started with Mary. Since then, the expectation has been that women do everything central to Xmas. The men may bring gifts, I say may, but that’s pretty much it. Oh yes, I hear a man yelling as he sets up the Xmas tree. Well, sometimes you don’t. I know. My experience and a lifetime of hearing other women, older and younger, tell me the Xmas story. The Xmas story is carried on from woman to woman. She is the one to send cards, bake numerous goodies, get in groceries to feed the hungry armies, decorate, buy and wrap gifts, and volunteer to help at the different Xmas plays and musicals. Some even make costumes. I always avoided that one. Being a poor seamstress has benefits.
I understand most don’t send cards now, but I feel compelled, partly because I enjoy getting them. My mother and then I displayed all cards on strings of wool. Downstairs railings, hung on walls, they were and are a decoration in and of themselves. My mother sat for days, hammering away on a typewriter as each card must have a letter. This was before email or texts or even many long-distance phone calls, so sometimes this was indeed it for the year. Now, some construct a Xmas letter. I write bits in my cards as everyone is in contact in ways other than the cards. My friend in Victoria, B.C., and I have exchanged cards since grade seven. She had to move from Saskatchewan that year, and we kept up a correspondence all these years, which always included a Xmas card. I have cut back on my list, and she has done away with hers but not to each other.
Ahhh, the baking. From what I hear, that burden is alive and well. I know some women enjoy it, but most feel stressed and tired but persevere. After all, you MUST have baking. Gone are the days I would make 15 kinds of cookies and bars (which, in Canada, we call squares). However, the younger generation carries on the baking baton. My daughter has a list an arm’s length. She’s started with Eat More Bars and Butterscotch Confetti. I had my kids help with the laborious cutting of cherries, the smashing of nuts, etc. The more difficult aspects I would, of course, do myself. My kids still remember me telling them I would “do the tricky parts.” My daughter now does the tricky parts along with all of her generation.
I’ve heard of some mavericks who skulk into a bakery and stuff their stash into cans and containers from home. I won’t tell. However, it is the woman buying and stuffing, not the man, as somehow she feels it’s her duty to keep the baking banner of Xmas flying. In my family, we always had to have Xmas puddings. One for Xmas and one for New Year. This was usually done on November 12, so they could age in the fridge. I have been indoctrinated. I just made mine the other day, Late but nonetheless wrapped in their foil cocoons, ready for the big days. Ken was very helpful in rounding up elastics to fit over the cans to steam and figuring out how we could make suet when I inadvertently ordered too little. He even gave the thick batter a good stir. My mother always insisted my father give a big stir. It was said that it brought luck to have the man of the house stir it. Very clever! That batter is brutally thick, so it makes sense to have the one with the most muscles stirring that gluck. Oh, and I’m sure it’s lucky, too—wink, wink. Well played, mother.
Groceries. Always expensive and even more so now. I feel for the young families. Mothers are scouting for sales and cheaper choices to make up their Xmas menus. I would make endless lists and then forage out. Usually, four kids in tow. Three shopping carts as we set out to do the Big Shop for Xmas. I would yell over my shoulder --” Don’t you dare ram me with the cart!” Down the list, I would go. Somehow my generation felt they needed to feed the countryside. I see less of that inclination now. I had an open house Xmas Eve, a hurried order in pizza supper, and off to church and the pageant. I would drag my shepherds and wise men into the church.
After many rehearsals, we hoped all was well. Back to the Open House. Such insanity on my behalf. Why did I feel compelled? Was it because my mother had one after the church service Xmas Eve? I don’t know. But it was an obsession. Lots of baking, sandwiches, and tons of appetizers, punch, etc. Why, oh, why, did I burden myself with yet another task? I had drunk thoroughly of the Xmas kool -aid fed to women. A friend of mine had opulent Xmas teas. Towering desserts, delectable fudges, tarts of all types, galore cookies, and shiny silver tea service. She even had homemade gifts for women and children at the door. Always the first Sunday in December. Only mothers and daughters were invited, and my sons were quite bitter about it. However, looking back, it was a pleasure for us mothers under the Xmas gun to be treated. We had nothing to do. Just sip tea, and eat goodies—a peaceful oasis in the chaos of Xmas preparations.
Decorating can be fun, but in my experience, finding what you packed away hurriedly in January can be irritating, and then figuring out where you can put the large Santa. Sometime in the year, you mindlessly bought another chair and set it up just where Santa always went. What now? A mouse must have got into some of the tree decorations! Bits and pieces of paper and foil drift around you. You know you have enough decorations, but you can’t say no to that charming reindeer set when shopping. Of course, until you get home, no thought is given to where this stately pair will reside till you get home.
Outdoor decorations are usually the man’s territory. Clambering up icy ladders, setting things up with frozen fingers. This is a good time to bake in the warmth of the kitchen. You are much too busy ( wiggle the floury hands) to help outside. For once, men take over Xmas. Inside there is the yearly task of untangling tree lights. Some wrap them around cardboard, but most people are in such a rush to just get everything packed away that they don’t. I have often sat picking out and unraveling lights while kids bounce around wanting to decorate the tree NOW. I remember setting up the tree (always a live one), and it would not stay straight. I tried sawing the bottom. No luck. Finally, with an angry spurt of energy, I found a damn piece of sturdy string and tied the tree to the bookcase. Once decorated, you couldn’t see the string. Whatever it takes is my motto.
I love the Xmas plays. However, packing snowsuit-clad children into cars at least twice a week for weeks to take them to rehearsals is not one of my favorite Xmas memories. Cold, cold, cold. Might I add there was never a Joseph or a Mary in my family? Always shepherds and wise men, and I seem to remember a sheep or camel. That back and forth was not enough for me. Oh no. I had children in Cherub Choir. So, once more into the car and onward. After many practices, our little choir traveled to senior homes and the train station and belted out their songs. Lots of driving and arranging of costumes and nary a father in sight. Today that may differ some, but for the most part, I bet not.
The buying of gifts. What can I say? Buying for a family is an onerous task. One must consider prices and each child’s wishes (within reason) and make sure each was given “equally.” So difficult to explain that, yes, Sammy got six gifts and you four, but yours came to the same amount.as Sammy’s. This is usually met with disbelief. Four does not make six, mother. I remember two wanting snakes for Xmas. Most insistent they were. Santa gave each a stuffed snake in their stockings. When given special looks, I could blame it on “Santa.” He must have thought you meant stuffed!!!” I made diagrams on paper listing stocking stuffers and gifts to open for each of the five. I still have some of those papers. Blood, sweat, and tears went into those. I hear today’s Moms saying the same. They have one advantage, and that’s online shopping. That spares you from driving hither and yon hunting for things. Now you can sit and scroll, dashing from site to site, humming a Xmas tune under your breath. As I was dashing from store to store, it was not Xmas songs under my breath. Men are usually good at wrapping if pressed to the task. Ken is excellent at seeing all those corners line up exactly and taping just so. My wrapping days are over for the most part, and good riddance. Friends who loved wrapping and gifts were under the tree by December 1. Not mine. Not ever.
So another Xmas prep is underway, and I really hope this generation has not drunk the Xmas kool-aid for women as much as my generation. If you have, please be kind to yourself and enlist some help. If you are considering marrying, don’t forget to ask the man of your choice what he will do at Xmas. Discuss finances and having children by all means but do not forget to ask the all-important question. Do you buy gifts and bake?
