I LOVE my crass, consumerist, planet-destroying, meaningless, tat-filled Christmas Eve.
There's no work that day, so I get a lie-in, and then get up and do some baking with the children. We make biscuits and sausage rolls. Then I leave the children to decorate the biscuits with DH while I go to church and help the vicar set up for the Christingle service.
I go home and then we all head out for a walk in the woods, with sausage rolls fresh from the oven to act as hand-warmers and then lunch. When the children were little we would look for elves and signs of Christmas magic, and we still aim to stay out until everyone has found some magic. .
Then we head off to the Christingle service, and give bags of biscuits to our friends and neighbours on the way home. Then we listen to carols while preparing the veg for the next day's lunch. At some point, either DH or I will nip to the loo, and, by a strange coincidence will hear a knock at the door on our way back. When we open the door, we find a basket decorated with fairy lights. Inside there are Christmas stockings to hang up, new pyjamas for the children, the traditional Christmas bedtime stories, a pack of thank you cards, and a candy cane each. There used to be a bath bomb, but the children prefer showers now, so I'm going to replace that with a bottle of home-made pillow spray.
We finish the veg, have a bowl of lentil soup, the children get washed and changed, watch a film, drink hot chocolate, leave food/drink/a letter for Father Christmas and the reindeer, read the stories and the DC head off to bed.while the adults set out the presents.
I go to midnight mass and come home in time to eat the carrots and mince pies and fill the stockings before heading to bed.
It's one of my favourite days of the year (along with Halloween, because I don't really belong on Mumsnet with my love of celebrating every festival going).