I attempted to shop like a man. I really did. I had a list, I had a purpose and I had a time limit.

I tried and I failed.

I am a woman and like any good one, I shop spectacularly. Meaning I browse, I compare prices and I will walk the concourse of the biggest shopping centre in Australia, only to double back if the item I want is $5 cheaper at Point A.

This Christmas is a little different. Usually I am fairly organised. I, by this time of the year, would normally have stashed an amazing amount of presents in the shed, had a food list ready, purchased and refrigerated and be sitting around just waiting for the day to roll around. Wait, no I wouldn’t. I’m crap at that stuff.

I wish I was a person who could say that. “Oh I hit the midyear Target toy sale hard and got everything for an absolute bargain and now just have to perfect my signature Brandy Eggnog Snap Rocket Juice and I’ll be good to go”. But I’m not. Now’s a good time to recognise this goal will never be realised,

So once again, I find myself in the position, 5 days out from Christmas with feck all food in the house, 10% of presents secured and limited time up my sleeve.

When I’m not working, I have three kids with me. One in a perpetual sulk mode, one who will not stop talking about the word manoeuvre and one who is just working on a plan to firebomb the local shopping centre so he never has to return. Needless to say, shopping with kids this close to the big day is outski.

All I can say is thank Jebus for late night shopping. It is my saviour. So, if you a spot a curly haired, dishevelled woman, possibly talking to herself and wearing inappropriate shopping shoes wandering around on Christmas Eve, don’t be alarmed, it’s just me.

This time next week, it will all be over for another year. The kids will be as wrecked as the new remote control monster truck on the bedroom floor and we, the parents, will be putting the last dregs of prawns and beer into the wheelie bin.

And then someone will crack a joke about there being 364 days until we have to do it all again. And whilst no one will find this remotely funny, we will all laugh and quietly wish a particularly harsh gastro bug upon that person.

Happy Shopping! Oh, and Merry Christmas.