By 
Christmas has always been a holiday I cherish. Once summer ends, I dive into Christmas shopping, aiming to wrap it up by early October, and if it’s not, I start to stress. My loft is brimming with unwrapped presents, carefully preserved decorations, heaps of wrapping paper, and festive treats. Just last Saturday, I made a specific trip to Waitrose for their Christmas caramelized nuts. Ironically, as I sit down to write today, it’s Halloween. We carved pumpkins with friends, but honestly, I was more thrilled about the 30 Christmas cards we crafted over the weekend. With Sebby’s hands covered in brown paint, we made reindeer cards (which, admittedly, could be mistaken for tarantulas at a wrong angle), and Sunday night found me sewing bells onto each card with a glass of sloe gin in hand.
As a single parent, Christmas can be challenging, especially when both parents are still involved in a child’s life. When the relationship is strained, it becomes nearly impossible to manage holiday plans. Just last night, after a delightful day with friends, I spent a grueling few hours drafting and redrafting an email to my ex about dividing time over Christmas. We’ve been clashing over what’s “fair” for weeks, and it’s beginning to feel as difficult as Brexit negotiations. My workspace was littered with calendar screenshots, highlighters, scribbled notes, printed emails, and a large glass of red wine. No agreement has been reached, and like the political scene, everyone’s growing irritable. Inevitably, one parent misses out each year, which is painful. Last year, Sebby and I enjoyed a magical Christmas with my family, but this year, he’ll be with his dad. Sebby’s only three, and this will be my second Christmas without him, which is tough.
I’ll be celebrating with Sebby on Christmas Eve, complete with every festive detail. Father Christmas will come (Sebby did wonder how he’d enter without a chimney, fair question), and we’ll open gifts with breakfast in bed under twinkling lights, surrounded by family. Being together with Sebby is what’s most important to all of us. For Christmas Day, we’ve reserved a spot at a lovely nearby hotel. My mom will be recovering from surgery, and with everything going on, a change of setting might help ease the sting of Sebby’s absence. I am an optimist by nature and feel fortunate to have a healthy, joyful son. A few years back, that seemed uncertain, so now, Christmas for me is all about ensuring Sebby feels safe, cherished, and enchanted. If I end up having more time without him, I’ll be heading to Italy with someone I met at the start of the year. Hohoho.
