A Little Space for Yourself Before the Silly Season

Finding a little calm in the Christmas chaos

I was wandering around the shops the other day, looking for some Christmas decorations to use in a photoshoot for the LilliBean Christmas collection, when I realised something.

It was only the beginning of October.

And Christmas was already creeping into everything.

To be fair, the shops seemed to be holding off on the full Christmas assault until Halloween was out of the way, but there were already little festive displays popping up here and there.

And it wasn’t just the shops.

Christmas was creeping into what I was working on, what I was planning, and the conversations happening around our house.

The girls were starting to talk about Christmas. Family visits needed organising. Time off work needed coordinating. Animals needed booking into kennels. Travel arrangements needed making.

And then there was everything I wanted to do in the studio before Christmas.

There’s something about this time of year that feels exciting, overwhelming, magical and utterly exhausting, all at once.

Every year I start creating ambitious lists of things I want to do for Christmas. Things for my family, our traditions, our little rituals, the things that make the season feel special.

And every year, I manage to exhaust myself just thinking about the list.

We might end up doing three things.

And somehow, those three things are usually lovely.

So why do we put so much pressure on ourselves to make Christmas wonderful for everyone else, while forgetting that perhaps we’d like to enjoy Christmas too?

Because I think there’s a difference between wanting to create a magical Christmas and feeling responsible for making Christmas magical.

And it’s taken me quite a few years to understand that difference.

Self-care isn’t another thing for the to-do list

When I think about looking after myself during the silly season, I’m not necessarily thinking about bubble baths, manicures or beautifully curated self-care rituals.

Although I do love a good haircut and refresh before Christmas!

For me, self-care looks a little more practical.

It’s having a manageable to-do list.

It’s having realistic expectations about what I can actually achieve.

It’s thinking about what really matters to me and my family, rather than trying to recreate some imaginary version of the perfect Christmas.

It’s not accepting every party invitation.

And it’s definitely not doing Elf on the Shelf every single night.

Because seriously, coming up with increasingly creative things for that inanimate little creature to do every night is exhausting.

In fact, when our youngest was still completely invested in the elf, I would occasionally deliberately touch it.

Because, as everyone knows, if a human touches the elf, it loses its magic and can’t move for five days.

Five glorious days of not having to think about what the bloody elf was going to do next.

Sometimes self-care is about knowing when to take advantage of a loophole.

But somewhere along the way, even self-care has become another thing we’re supposed to do properly.

Another ritual to fit into our mornings. Another habit to maintain. Another thing we feel guilty about when we don’t manage it.

And I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly need another thing to feel like I’m falling short of.

Perhaps self-care isn’t about adding something else to our days.

Perhaps it’s about giving ourselves permission to do a little less.

The December list of doom

I don’t know what your December to-do list looks like, but mine usually goes something like this.

Put up the Christmas tree.

Make the Christmas cookies.

Make the Rumballs.

Make the Christmas pudding with Mum, remembering to stir it for good luck for the coming year, and then spend the next eight hours boiling it so we can enjoy a beautiful pudding on Christmas Day.

Dance concerts. End-of-school assemblies. Christmas carols.

Christmas shopping. Food shopping. Present shopping. The things I didn’t buy earlier because I wasn’t ready to think about Christmas until after the Black Friday sales.

Markets. Pop-ups. Studio orders.

Organising the animals to go into kennels. Dropping them off. Picking them up.

Making sure everyone has the right time off work so we can travel in one car instead of three.

Working out what we’re bringing for Christmas lunch and which little bits and pieces we need to buy in Cowra before we leave.

Watching Christmas movies with the girls.

Pretending to be just as excited as they are about everything when, quite frankly, all I want to do is sleep.

Wrapping presents.

Hiding presents in the car so nobody accidentally discovers what they may or may not be getting.

And somewhere in there, deciding whether the Elf on the Shelf is arriving on 1 December or taking an extended holiday with the Barbies until the 15th.

And who’s going to be responsible for the elf when it finally arrives?

That job I will leave to Mac.

And that’s before we even get to the everyday things that don’t magically disappear just because it’s December.

If my list looks like this, I’m fairly certain yours is probably just as long.

For years, I’ve struggled with the balancing act of being excited about Christmas, facilitating everyone else’s excitement about Christmas, and actually looking after myself.

And there have been years when I absolutely did not succeed.

I’d arrive at the holidays completely exhausted, then spend the next three weeks trying to recover enough energy to function like a normal human being again.

Which, when you think about it, rather defeats the purpose of having a holiday.

Learning that not everything has to happen

I do feel like I’m getting a little better at this.

Not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination.

December still begins with a ridiculously ambitious list and a vague sense that there’s absolutely no way I’m going to get everything done.

But these days, as December progresses, I find myself crossing things off the list.

Not because I’ve finished them.

Because I’ve decided they don’t actually need doing.

And the world doesn’t end.

The Christmas tree doesn’t have to go up on 1 December.

We don’t have to make every single Christmas treat, although I do love making the Rumballs and the pudding with Mum.

We don’t have to attend every event or squeeze every possible festive experience into four weeks.

And we don’t have to make Christmas look like the Christmases we see on social media.

One of the best Christmases we ever had was when we were so busy that the thought of putting up the Christmas tree felt like one more enormous task.

We weren’t even going to be home for Christmas.

So instead, we bought a tiny pine tree, put some baubles and fairy lights on it, and called it a day.

And it was lovely.

We still had a Christmas tree.

We still had Christmas.

And nobody suffered because we hadn’t dragged out the decorations and transformed the entire house into a festive wonderland.

Sometimes enough really is enough.

Making space for the things I actually love

December used to be an incredibly busy market month for me.

Markets almost every weekend. Packing the car, unpacking the car, setting up stalls, making more stock, travelling around the state.

And while I genuinely love markets, they take an enormous amount of time and energy.

As the girls have gotten older, with dance concerts and end-of-year commitments, I’ve gradually pulled back on December markets.

This year, my last confirmed market is in November.

(Unless Handmade Canberra happens to call me off the waitlist, of course!)

And while there’s a little part of me that’s disappointed not to be doing those final Christmas markets, I’m also okay with it.

Because not hauling myself around the state every weekend means I get to enjoy some of the things I really love about Christmas.

Making Rumballs. (Maybe you can tell I really love these!) 

Making the pudding with Mum.

Watching the girls put up the Christmas tree.

Watching Christmas movies together.

Actually being present for the little moments instead of constantly thinking about the next thing I need to do.

And in the studio, I’m hoping December looks a little different this year too.

A quieter pace.

Getting things organised so I can take three weeks off in January and actually enjoy them.

Scheduling newsletters and social media ahead of time, so I’m not spending my holidays wondering what I should be posting.

And perhaps most importantly, giving myself some time to play.

To pull out a canvas without worrying about whether it needs to become a product.

To explore creative ideas.

To dream about 2027 and the big paintings and projects I might like to dive into next.

Because there’s a difference between creating because you’re excited about what might emerge, and creating because you feel obligated to produce another hundred Nutcracker or Nativity Wee Beasties before Christmas.

There’s painting because I love it.

And then there’s painting because I feel like I should.

I’m learning to recognise the difference.

A little Australian summer self-care

I think one of the things we forget when we talk about Christmas self-care is that here in Australia, we’re heading into summer.

And sometimes looking after ourselves is wonderfully simple.

It’s putting the air-conditioning on and watching a movie in the middle of the day.

It’s going for a swim and floating on your back, staring up at the endless blue sky.

It’s getting up early for a walk before the heat of the day settles in.

It’s making a potato salad and throwing a steak on the barbecue because nobody wants to turn the oven on.

It’s sitting quietly with a book while Christmas music plays in the background.

It’s noticing something small and lovely that makes you smile.

The way a summer storm rolls in over the hills.

The way the afternoon light falls across the kitchen table.

A moment of laughter with the girls.

A little bit of unexpected whimsy in an otherwise ordinary day.

And perhaps it’s recognising that these moments are just as much a part of Christmas as the decorations, the presents and the traditions.

We spend so much time trying to create the big magical moments that we sometimes forget to notice the little ones already happening around us.

What if we gave ourselves permission?

It’s taken me a long time to get to a place where I can even think about slowing down at Christmas.

Where I can recognise that I don’t have to do everything.

That I don’t have to make every treat, attend every event or create every tradition.

That Christmas doesn’t have to look a certain way to be beautiful.

If you don’t want to put up a Christmas tree this year, don’t.

Find a branch from down the road, pop it in a vase, wrap some fairy lights around it and call it Christmas.

If you don’t want to bake six different kinds of Christmas biscuits, buy some.

If you don’t want to go to another Christmas party, stay home.

And if you want to spend an afternoon doing absolutely nothing, perhaps that’s exactly what you should do.

I think our capacity to overextend ourselves is enormous.

We can keep adding things to our days, keep pushing through, keep convincing ourselves that we’ll rest when everything is finished.

But everything is rarely finished.

And perhaps the real measure of self-care isn’t how many lovely rituals we’ve managed to squeeze into our lives.

Perhaps it’s recognising when we’ve had enough.

Giving ourselves permission to do less.

And remembering that we’re allowed to enjoy the magic we’re so busy creating for everyone else.

Because self-care isn’t a luxury.

And it shouldn’t be another obligation.

It’s simply remembering that we matter too.

A little something to help you find your own Christmas magic

If you’re looking for a little inspiration to make the coming season feel more manageable, I’ve created a few free resources for the LilliBean community.

Not because I think you need more things on your to-do list!

But because sometimes having a little guidance, a gentle reminder or a moment of creativity can help us reconnect with what actually matters.

The Christmas Planner is designed to help you approach the season with a little more intention. There are practical pages for budgets, presents and travel plans, alongside colouring pages, self-care rituals and some gentle shadow-work questions about how you want Christmas to feel — and what you’d rather leave behind.

The Christmas Download Pack includes affirmation cards, mindful colouring pages and little festive rituals to bring some whimsy and care into your days.

And the Summer Ritual Pack is full of seasonal inspiration, affirmations, mindful colouring and simple rituals to help you enjoy the slower moments of an Australian summer.

For my friends in the Northern Hemisphere, there’s a Winter Ritual Pack too.

They’re all available as free downloads for the LilliBean email community.

[Explore the free LilliBean resources — insert link]

And as we head towards the silly season, perhaps there’s just one question worth asking ourselves.

How do I want this Christmas to feel?

Not how do I want it to look.

Not how much do I want to achieve.

But how do I actually want to feel?

Because maybe the most magical thing we can do this Christmas is leave a little room for ourselves to enjoy it.

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