Is getting a sponsor in Debtors Anonymous the next step for my night-time shopping sprees?

With a small hallway full of unopened parcels, including cordless hoovers, gold shoes and tons of toys, is Charlotte Cripps overcompensating because she cancelled the Christmas holiday?

(Illustration by Amara May)

Lola has now accepted that she’s been downgraded from angel to humble sheep. I bought her a fabulous white cape with woolly ears and told her it was one of life’s lessons. “If life throws lemons, you make lemonade, and if you’re a sheep, not an angel, you’ve got to be the best nativity sheep there ever was.”  

I’ve also cancelled my trip to Dubai for Christmas; it’s too risky to take my dad, 88. He’s a liability: he huffs and puffs if I hand him hand gel and ends up with his mask covering his eyes.  It’s hard enough travelling with him and the kids without a pandemic; this might finish me off.  

I knew it was time to pull the plug when my dad said to me: “What if they test us again at Dubai airport and we are positive, then we have to spend the whole holiday isolating in our rooms? What a waste of money.” Seriously, that would be a good outcome. I’m more worried about him being stuck on a ventilator in a hospital.

I’m desperately trying to make the festive period special for my kids; it’s their first-ever Christmas in the UK as we always go abroad. That might explain why I have to return about 30 parcels that I ordered online.  I’m suffering from FOMA; fear of missing out on the Black Friday deals. It means I’ve been shopping late at night while the kids are asleep. I have to check my browser the next morning just to remember what I’ve bought. Now I can hardly see for all the unwanted boxes in my hallway. 

Luckily there is a post office opposite my flat. But the dog-walker broke the barrel of the lock and I’m having to clamber out of the window with tons of parcels. It’s costing me a fortune for recorded delivery.  It’s not just the deals that I’m bagging; it’s the combo of Christmas presents. I’m in the mindset of “do all my Christmas shopping in five minutes”. 

I bought gold sparkly shoes for Lola, but the first pair were too small, so I needed to return them and have ordered the bigger size, but then I found them for half the price on another website, so I bought two pairs because I wasn’t sure what size would fit. 

I have spent hundreds of pounds but have nothing to show for it, apart from a mountain of plastic

There is the Disney Sleeping Beauty bone china teacup and saucer that is frivolous and expensive. I’m not sure what happened there? I fell in love with it and bought it for myself.  But I can’t play Marie Antoniette when I need to buy the basics for my children. I’m waiting for it to arrive and will just shoot to the post office and get rid of it asap. 

Then there is the shoe protector spray that turned out to be for upholstery; and the cordless hoover is going straight back in the box. I’m keeping the unicorn clay modelling sets for Lola’s school friends, but I have totally overdone it on the kid's presents: pretend blender, wooden tea set, kinetic sand bakeshop, and bath ice cream machine. I’m not sure how I am going to return the massive chunk of plastic, which is a treehouse on a ladder for the garden? Maybe I just refuse it at the door? 

The crowns, flashing princess shoes, paint your own dinosaur money box and unicorn tattoos might all be under a tenner – but they all add up to an overdraft. If this goes on I’m going to need a sponsor in DA (Debtors Anonymous) for my night-time shopping sprees.  

Maybe I am overcompensating with presents because we have sledgehammered the holiday? The kids have some unrealistic expectations: it’s going to snow and we will go tobogganing, plus Santa won’t know where to find us as we won’t be in Dubai. I have spent hundreds of pounds but have nothing to show for it, apart from a mountain of plastic. It’s like my using days. It’s a momentary high followed by a  total anti-climax as reality hits. 

Just as I am determined to have a magical Christmas with my nearest and dearest for the first time in 15 years, I get a text from my sister, Rebecca.  “Dad tells me you are going to refuse the vaccine?” On no. It’s like the soundtrack to Jaws has just begun. I read on. “You are selfish and will be responsible for killing everybody." Another ping. “So it’s Ok for dad to have it but not for you?” Ping.  “That is your decision. But I don’t have to see you.” Ping. “Goodbye." 

Oh no, I recoil in horror. Where does this leave us with Christmas Day lunch? She had invited us all over for a nut roast. Is Christmas going to be a washout? Or will something happen to save the day?