Hi °C | Lo °C There are only 15 shopping days left 'til the big day. Already I feel like the turkey which has had all of the stuffing knocked out of it.
My recent spell in hospital and slow recovery process has meant suddenly Christmas is just over a fortnight away and I am less organised than I have ever been.
So what am I doing about it? Panicking, of course!
Every day I think about all that I have to do and panic that little bit more. I have endless lists going round in my head — things I need to get and sort out.
Smug friends who have presents bought from about October and now have everything wrapped, cakes baked and cards posted are only serving to irritate me more.
The one good thing is that I don't do cards, so that's one less worry. Since my mum died (shortly after Christmas eight years ago), I haven't sent a single Christmas card. Instead, I make a donation to the Hospice and light two lights on their Christmas tree every year, one in memory of my mum and one in memory of my dad.
So anyone out there who thought I just couldn't be bothered (though, to be fair, I've always considered Christmas cards a waste of time and money), now you know the reason why.
All those years have passed and I still find Christmas difficult without my parents. For those who have lost loved ones, this will always be a bittersweet time of the year no matter what age you are.
The first year without both of them was by far the worst — I wanted to cancel Christmas. In the end Tom and I flew 11,000-odd miles to California with a then three-year-old Jesse and one-year-old Korey (something I wouldn't even contemplate now, but grief does funny things to you) to spend the holiday with my dad's brother and my cousins.
Christmas in the sunshine, away from home but surrounded by family who cared enough to be there but knew just when to back off, somehow or other made it slightly more bearable.
I've tried over the years to focus on the boys and to make it as special a time for them as possible — me moping about isn't fair on anyone. And admittedly the excitement of a certain five-year-old, whose Christmas lightbulb literally seems to be switched on this year, is pretty contagious.
Teo is the first small hand to reach for the Advent calendar (at least I have one even if I had to rely on my mother-in-law to fill it) and to count the number of sleeps left 'til that all important big day.
Like his brothers and unlike his mother, he has been organised for weeks, with Santa's letters written from early November. Thankfully Santa seems to be running a little behind this year ... as the lists keep changing.
Still, for the first year ever I have had to call for reinforcements. Tom, who much to my annoyance doesn't do Christmas shopping and who apart from gifts for me probably hasn't bought a single present in the last 15 years, has been drafted in.
Thank goodness for the internet and for my NBF Mr Amazon, who this year has been my saving grace. Within a quick, painless hour we had chopped a huge whack off the list.
I have never done my shopping this way before and I feel that somehow or other I am cheating as I haven't gone out and sweated blood and tears over the gifts.
But needs must, and as things get ticked off the list, the panic lessens until I think of something more I haven't done. I will still need to venture out for a few personal gifts and I still have to help Santa with last minute surprises.
The way I am feeling at the minute, though, it may be a night-time visit to somewhere which is open round the clock, as I can't face the hoards of people — all panicking as much as me!
Plus, we've had a bereavement in the Knox/Ireland household this week as Korey's pet rabbit went to animal heaven — leaving three grief-stricken and bewildered friends behind and a very shocked Tom, who — if truth be told — was the one to whom it fell to feed and look after him, along with the rest of our menagerie.
Lots of Heaven questions followed — and a sleepless night — before Korey was finally satisfied that Rocky the rabbit would now be keeping our Old English Sheepdog, Benji, who died a couple of years ago, company in heaven.
As for me, I’m now left hoping that Santa isn't required to pull a rabbit out of the hat at the last minute this Christmas.
