I Suck at Christmas

December 13, 2012 The Maven

"Martha Stewart 2012 Holiday Decorating Guide:
NAILED IT."

I'm terrible at crafts. Terrible. Going into a craft store makes me break out in stress hives, and the thought of spending all that money to slap together something I could buy for half the price makes my logical side wince. Besides which, researching, finding, preparing and creating a craft is completely beyond my skill level to begin with. In short, Pinterest is like my porn: It looks nice on screen, but the truth is that it's never going to happen in real life.

But when the holiday season rolls around and everybody starts taking out their glitter glue and card stock and Instagramming the shit out of it, I feel like I need to do that too. I tell myself I'm going to start early. I'm going to wow people with my homemade amazingnesses. I'm going to serve up so much holly jolly the neighbours will choke on it.

And then I don't. Suddenly, it's December 12th and I haven't made a damn thing. Instead, I've gone to craft shows and bought things other people made, which I'm pretty sure is cheating. So now I'm unmotivated and a cheater. Awesome. Thank you, Christmas.

Every year I say I'm going to bake like crazy. I don't. I bake a little bit and there isn't enough to go around. Then I end up eating half my measly yield before it even hits the freezer. Taste testing turns into a feeding frenzy fuelled by shame. Shame on me for not starting this sooner, shame on me for thinking I could make layered snowmen cookies found on Pinterest because they now look like snowmen with leprosy and a yeast infection, shame on me for eating an entire village of yeasty leper snowmen.

Every year I say I'm going to send out Christmas cards. I even bought some beautiful ones a month ago from Urban Fete and put them in a bag on my desk. Want to know where they are now?

On a bag on my desk.

When a festive card arrives from friends or realtors who are far more organized than we are, I spend the rest of the day guiltily glancing over at it. Those people are not getting a card back this year, or likely any year until I can get my village of diseased snowmen to make them for me in exchange for not eating their young.

Every year, once I accept that I won't be making homemade gifts, I say I'm going to start shopping early and get great things for everyone. But I suck at gift buying more than I suck at making things. I search endlessly for that "perfect gift" because advertising has convinced me I can find it, that it's out there somewhere and I just need to look hard enough.

It's not out there, Maven. Not unless it's at the top of someone's list underlined three times with gold stars around it. If I don't have that list to go on, you're likely getting a sweater or some ugly coffee mugs. I'm the type of person who should have been rich so she could hire a personal shopper. But then I might have to get a gift for my personal shopper and that would stress me out on a whole new level. Shopping for someone who shops for a living? That's a trip to the therapist just waiting to happen.

And just when I wasn't feeling inadequate enough, there's this Elf on the Shelf business. If you don't know what that is, let me explain it to you: Somebody wrote a book about an elf on the shelf, and you can buy said book with - get ready for this - an elf that you put on your shelf.

Sounds cute, right? Wait.

The whole point of the elf is that he shows up a little while before Christmas because he's a spy for Santa. That's just creepy.

And it gets worse.

The elf doesn't stay on the shelf, you guys. It's false advertising. You, the parent, place him around the house and make him do naughty things. He spills stuff and pulls stuff over and whatever other mischief you can come up with. And then you get to clean it all up. What fun! What delight!

What the hell, everybody?! Seriously? We don't have enough to do around the holidays already? Why are we making work for ourselves? And I say "we" as a general statement, and not one that includes yours truly. I do not and will not ever have one of those make work projects in my house unless it can bake better snowmen cookies than I can. If they get that advanced, sign me up.

So what can I do? Does The Maven completely fail at Christmas? Not entirely. I can decorate a mean tree, clean a house, bake a bird or two and have family over. I rock at watching Christmas specials. And I can pretend to carol very well as long as there are enough people singing who know the words and can drown out my made up ones:

"Noel, Noel, the angels did things, was to surplus the bluebirds at newbie the king."

I'm better at Christmas karaoke.