Learner Dad: It’s impossible to stuff five Celebrations into your mouth

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'It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas' is my classic festive song. It covers all the phases you go through – anticipation, toys, cosiness, family - and the kids driving you nuts. I’ll be muttering the line 'And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again' to myself by January 2. But then that’s the beauty of Christmas. It’s an annual journey - you look forward to it, you indulge, you can’t wait for it to end.

This bit in mid-December is my least favourite part. It’s almost impossible to stuff five Celebrations into your mouth without getting caught by the kids. So now they have to dig in as well, and five minutes later they’re haring around the house like a loose firework. 

This is grand in the glory days after Christmas when you can retire to a quiet room or maybe have a glass of red with your breakfast.

But for most parents, there is still work to be done in mid-December. Parents (let’s face it, moms) are clicking refresh on various online sites to see if their presents are going to make it on time. As for Santa's presents, the man in red has never left us down yet, but there is always a first time.

Like a lot of parents, I rarely get in Christmas mode until December 23. But once the words ‘Happy new Year’ are in my out-of-office email responder, I’m ready for Yule.

Christmas Eve is all about the kids. I remember Christmas Eve in the 1970s. My mother would bring us down to an all-sorts shop on Main Street in Kinsale, so we could buy herself and Dad things they didn’t want.

It was always dank and misty and I loved it, coming back home to the fire and my mother saying ‘you must think we’re made of money’, as she poured us half a can of Tanora each.

I get nice Christmas Eve energy from my kids until I’m sent out to empty the shelves in Aldi because the shops are closed for two days.

Christmas Day is great. Most of the work is over. The house is too hot. I end up eating eight square meals. 

Stephen’s Day is a gem. There’s usually a walk and a match or two on telly. It was stressful before because you had to go out-out with your friends, but now it’s mainly lazing around and lining your arteries with fatty deposits. It’s one of those days I’m glad I’m getting old.

I have a hankering for December 27 or 28. Those are the days when the kids are off out with their mother and I end up crashing on the couch, watching a random World War ll movie on the box, as if I was still 25. Sometimes I just hire one on YouTube to recreate the memory.

I’m not a huge fan of New Year's Eve. That tends to happen once you go over the age of 50 – it’s less about prosecco and more about a countdown to the grave. (Sorry for being morbid, that’s just the way it is.) The period between New Year's Day and schools re-opening feels like the biggest waste of time in all of history. 

The kids are still off school. The decorations are still up, You have early-onset gout. Did I mention that the kids are still off school?

But then, that’s the beauty of Christmas. It overstays its welcome for a few days, yet we could do with a distraction from the fact that it’s only bright for 42 minutes a day at this time of the year.

After that, the days get a little longer, and we can survive on hope alone. But for now, I’m going to enjoy the lights and songs. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.