Christmas

As I write this there are 5 children running and screaming around outside the confines of my nieces bedroom, the one I sleep in whenever I visit my sister. I’m sitting at her homework desk which, for a 9-year-old, is meticulously organised. Colouring pencils have their place as does the glue and her sharpener and rubber. There’s even a little space to keep her crystals. Two Brats dolls are watching over me as I put this piece together on a hot Saturday afternoon in Rockhampton. One of the dolls is unfortunately missing her hand – I know this because said hand was left on my bed this morning with a mound of sticky tape wrapped around what should have been a wrist (I’m not sure her surgeon graduated from med school).  

Between the above paragraph and now there’s been a 20-minute interval. All 5 kids stormed my room, threw pillows everywhere and demanded time on my lap to play with my computer. It will be a miracle if I get this done at all.

When I arrived in Rockhampton I felt like I could finally exhale. I moved to PNG a year ago and over the last 12 months I’ve had no choice but to throw myself into my work. I’ve been eagerly awaiting this time to be away from my emails so I could step into full Aunty mode with my family. I don’t know what Christmas time is like for everyone reading this, but if you’re interested, I’d like to tell you what the last few days have been like for us.

Between my sister, my brother-in-law (referred to as BIL from hereon in) and I someone convinces Pa to stick around so we can go joyriding without the kids. On our way to Bunnings, “Can Tell” by Mercedes comes on (if you know, you know) and my sister and BIL start singing and giving each other the eyes. Ten years in and they’re still hot for one other which I think is something to celebrate, especially when you’re working parents with 3 crazy kids running around. I don’t know where they get the energy but trust me, it’s there. The other night I was lying in bed minding my own business when out of nowhere the house starts to shake. In my half-asleep state I think I’m back in PNG and there’s an earthquake tremor - turns out it’s just those two forgetting they live in an old Queenslander that can’t keep a secret.

Post Bunnings we head to Harvey Norman and somehow end up leaving with a new Dyson and an oversized portable speaker that I’m not sure we need. My sister legitimately cries because she loves the vacuum so much and can’t wait to use it. She then starts telling anyone who’ll listen about how clean it’s made the carpet and even asks our 8-year-old neighbour if she likes it. Chloe awkwardly replies, “Umm I guess so Katie”. It’s safe to say Chloe hasn’t been back since and it’s probably because Katie’s started acting like she works for Danoz Direct. “This vacuum is so powerful in fact, that it can hold the full weight of a bowling ball!! And if you buy it today we’ll give you this set of ancient Japanese knives – ABSOLUTELY FREE!”. Chloe’s noticeable absence could also be the fact that my nephew ran out of the shower naked and started swinging his dick around in front of her. Lol. Boy tingz.

Since the last time I saw him my nephews grown way too tall and has visible hair on his legs. I don’t know how he turned from a baby into a fully-fledged boy but every time I think of him turning into a man I feel uneasy. For no other reason than he probably won’t be as excited to see me or hug me or tell me silly stories or say, “Aunty watch this!” as he does something exceedingly mundane like stand on one leg. At some stage he’ll grow up and get way too much attention from girls because he’ll be the handsome caramel skinned boy running around the footy field. Clearly I’m biased but if you know my nephew, you know this is very likely to be his future. The girls part at least. Right now he loves footy but he also loves drinking pickle juice straight from the jar and putting his head as far between his legs as it can go before it reaches his butthole. I’m kind of hoping there’s nothing too definitive about him just yet or things might take a weird turn in the future. Even if he does end up a weird butthole licking contortionist, we’ll still love him. Plus, my sister gave birth to a backup option in his younger brother.

Known as “the fat baby”, “the fat white baby”, “the white baby”, “Migaloo”, “Migs”, “Kal”, “Kali Boy”, “Kali Bobo” and “White Tyson”, this kid is his father all over. Except for the fact that he’s a light skinned, 2-year-old angel. Our young White Tyson is an avid boxer with a mean right hook that has had his older brother in a fit of rage on more than one occasion. Weighing in at only 20 kilograms he’s somehow managed to become the heavy weight champ in our family and is given ample opportunity to defend his title right here on the lounge room floor. His brother and sister don’t enjoy being victimised by a 2-year-old but as we all know, last born siblings get away with everything. It also helps that he’s fat and cute.

My sister and I spotted an elderly lady struggling with her trolley at the shops yesterday so we went over and gave her a hand. She said there’s nothing good about Christmas without her grandchildren who happen to be scattered all over Australia. I felt lucky in that moment that I was able to be with the people that matter the most to me. Three of them being tiny dictators demanding food and water and constant attention and games of chasey. One of them constantly pulling the baubles off the tree.

Christmas Carols will have you thinking this is the ‘Most wonderful time of the year’, and for some, it really is. But the same can’t be said for everyone. While I’ve spent time decorating the tree with my niece, breaking up sibling fights, pushing babies on swings, planning Christmas meals and wrapping presents as inconspicuously as possible, others are struggling to feel any joy. My friends are still grieving loved ones, coping with their first Christmas away from their kids or dealing with the scary unknown. There are families in Cairns who are without shelter, people praying by hospital beds, children on the other side of the world wondering if today is the day they’ll die, homelessness on the street and loneliness lurking within the “happiest” of homes.

So if you are with your family, if you have your health and food on the table and a roof over your heads. If you have beautiful traditions you follow whatever they may be, I hope you’ll take a moment to realise how truly blessed you are.

But if you have none of that and Christmas bears no resemblance to wonderful. If Christmas is hard and stressful and a reminder of everything that used to be - you're in my thoughts. This time of the year hasn't always been joyful for me either.

My advice is simply to hunker down and wait for it to blow over.

As with all things, this too shall pass.

With love, always