The 3 life stages of loving Christmas | Scouse Bird Blogs

No matter how old you are, everyone loves Christmas. Depending on your age though it could be for a completely different reason. These are the three life stages of loving Christmas.

OMG IT’S SANTA! SANTA’S COMING! I KNOW HIM! You’ve written your list and sent it to the North Pole (and hopefully it’s not gone via Royal Mail or some penguin in the South Pole is reading it and wondering how the hell he’s going to make you a Malibu Barbie car).

You’ve been good all year in case Father Christmas is watching and adds you to his naughty list – well, I say all year, you’ve been good since like the 19th December and even then only when your frazzled mum reminds you that Santa is watching when you’re threatening to throw the mother of all bitch fits in the middle of the Asda while she’s busy trying to grab the last turkey crown.

No other morsel of chocolate is more sacred than your advent calendar – it doesn’t matter how late for school you are, if you don’t get that 0.3g lump of shite chocolate in the shape of the Jesus star then shit is going to pop off.

You sleep for about 7 minutes on Christmas Eve and then invade your mum and dad’s bedroom every 15 minutes from 4.30am until you break their spirit and they eventually get up and go downstairs to see if ‘he’s been’. Your mum has been up until 4.27am wrapping ‘his’ presents btw.

You don’t know what’s more exciting, the fact that not only has Father Christmas been but he’s got you everything on your list (including Fashion Wheel) OR the fact Rudolph has been on your roof while you sleep and he’s actually eaten the carrot you left out for him.

Christmas is boss.

Favourite gif of all time

The second of the stages of loving Christmas

You’re so over the present thing now. Most of your extended family don’t even get you anything anymore because you’re ‘old enough’. How rude.

Now Christmas isn’t about presents, it’s about cheer. A lot of cheer – and by cheer I mean alcohol. Cheers! You’ll go out for literally any opportunity. Work’s night out? You’re out. Mad Friday? You’re out. Christmas shopping? You can bet you and your mate are swinging around the poles in Popworld at 3am that night having bought precisely zero presents and one roll of Primark wrapping paper.

Christmas isn’t Christmas without drunkenly singing The Pogues – Fairytale of New York (with accents) on the Woody’s karaoke.

Christmas dinner is now your favourite part of the day as it goes some way to medicating the inevitable Christmas Day hangover; it’ll sort you out just in time to go to the local dive pub which is of course open on Christmas night.

You don’t go too hard though, you have to save yourself for the biggest night out of the year; Boxing night. Sure you can’t get near the bar for a drink because Boxing Night in town is actually more chocka than Primark on all of the Saturdays of the year combined but you just can’t imagine a world where Christmas doesn’t involve freezing your tits off and drinking festive amounts of Sambuca.

Christmas is boss.

The third of the stages of loving Christmas

You would literally rather be skinned alive than go out to town freezing your tits off, drinking festive amounts of Sambuca and dealing with dickheads in Christmas jumpers brandishing plastic mistletoe.

You’re not arsed about presents really – you’ve generally got everything you want but you wouldn’t actually mind one of those s for your feet. That’s something you’d actually use.

Christmas is all about family now. It’s all come full circle and now you get to be Santa and it’s actually loads of fun. You’ve got your kids a ‘Santa Stop Here’ sign, a personalised plate for mince pies and Rudolph’s carrot and you’ve sent your son or daughter a letter back from Santa acknowledging receipt of their Christmas wish list and confirming their place on the nice list (but with certain caveats; Santa can just as easily add them to the naughty list if the throw a bitch fit in the middle of the Asda while you’re trying to grab the last turkey crown).

Your blood is boiling at the fact the £50 Zoella advent calendar that your 6 year old was adamant they needed is a) only 12 days long and b) contained fucking stickers. Zoella is deffo on the naughty list now.

A couple of years ago you attempted doing Christmas dinner for everyone and swore never again because your fat arse husband didn’t even lift his head up from his new remote control car to give you a hand – I say his car, it was actually for your son, but you wouldn’t have thought so. Somehow this year you’re doing Christmas dinner for everyone again and you’ve got no idea how you’re going to fit 11 people around a 6 person dining table even WITH emergency chairs.

You stay up wrapping presents and stressing about turkey timings until 4.27am and just as your head hits the pillow, in come tiny footsteps through the bedroom door asking you if you think ‘he’s been’. You try and bribe them into letting you have an hours sleep by sticking Frozen on and letting them open a selection box but it’s no use, it’s 5am and time to start Christmas Day.

Christmas is boss… kind of – or at least it will be at 10pm when you have a gin in your hand watching the TOWIE Christmas special. You get to do the Father Christmas excitement AND the drinking. Maybe it’s the best stage of all…

Messin. It’s clearly the first one.

Happy Christmas everyone no matter which one of the stages of loving Christmas you’re at.


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