Coconut Oatmeal Cookies

The Timeless Comfort of Coconut Oatmeal Cookies

Cookies are more than just a sweet treat—they’re carriers of warmth, nostalgia, and a sense of home. Among the vast variety of cookies, coconut oatmeal cookies hold a special place. They blend the wholesome chew of oats with the tropical sweetness of shredded coconut, creating a delightful contrast that’s both satisfying and comforting. Whether you’re baking for family, friends, or just yourself, these cookies are guaranteed to become a favorite.

The Origins of Oatmeal Cookies

To appreciate oatmeal cookies, it helps to understand their roots. Oats have been a dietary staple for centuries, valued for their heartiness and versatility. The first oatmeal cookies trace back to Scotland, where oats were a common ingredient in everyday cooking. Early recipes were simple, often consisting of oats, butter, and a touch of sweetener. As oats gained popularity worldwide, the recipes evolved, incorporating additional ingredients like raisins, nuts, and spices.

In the United States, oatmeal cookies surged in popularity during the early 20th century, thanks to Quaker Oats. The company included an oatmeal cookie recipe on their packaging, making the treat a household staple. Adding coconut to oatmeal cookies was a natural progression, as it brought a unique sweetness and chewy texture that balanced the hearty oats perfectly.

Why Coconut Oatmeal Cookies Stand Out

Oatmeal cookies are already beloved for their comforting texture and versatility, but the addition of coconut elevates them to another level. Here’s why: 

1. Flavor Depth: The nutty sweetness of coconut complements the earthiness of oats, creating a well-rounded flavor profile. 

2. Texture: The shredded coconut adds a chewy, satisfying bite, while the oats lend a slightly crisp edge to the cookie. 

3. Versatility: These cookies are a canvas for creativity. You can customize them with chocolate, nuts, dried fruit, or even spices like cinnamon and nutmeg. 

The Ingredients Behind the Magic

Let’s take a closer look at what makes these cookies so special: 

Butter: The foundation of any good cookie, butter adds richness and moisture. Creaming it with sugar aerates the dough, ensuring soft, tender cookies. 

Sugars: A combination of brown and white sugar creates depth of flavor. Brown sugar adds a caramel-like richness, while white sugar provides sweetness and a slight crispness. 

Eggs and Vanilla: Eggs bind the dough and add structure, while vanilla enhances the overall flavor with its warm, aromatic notes. 

Flour, Baking Soda, and Salt: These dry ingredients work together to provide structure and balance. The baking soda helps the cookies rise slightly, creating a soft interior, while the salt enhances the sweetness and balances the flavors. 

Oats: Quick oats are perfect for cookies because they blend seamlessly into the dough while maintaining their chewy texture. 

Coconut: Sweetened shredded coconut is the star ingredient, adding a tropical twist that makes these cookies unforgettable. 

coconut oatmeal cookies

Tips for Baking Perfect Coconut Oatmeal Cookies

1. Use Room-Temperature Butter: Softened butter creams more easily with sugar, creating a smooth, fluffy dough. If your butter is too cold, it won’t incorporate properly, and if it’s too soft, the cookies may spread too much during baking. 

2. Don’t Overmix: Once you add the dry ingredients, mix just until combined. Overmixing can develop the gluten in the flour, leading to tougher cookies. 

3. Measure Accurately: Baking is a science, and precise measurements are key. Use measuring cups for dry ingredients and a liquid measuring cup for wet ones. 

4. Customize to Your Taste: While this recipe is delightful as-is, don’t hesitate to make it your own. Add chocolate chips for a touch of indulgence, or sprinkle in some chopped nuts for added crunch. 

5. Chill the Dough for a Thicker Cookie: Although not required, chilling the dough for 30 minutes can help prevent the cookies from spreading too much in the oven, resulting in a thicker, chewier texture. 

coconut oatmeal cookies

The Magic of Chocolate Topping

Chocolate is an optional but highly recommended addition to these cookies. While I chose jumbo chocolate chips for my chocolate chip loving crowd, a drizzle of melted chocolate or a quick dip creates an extra layer of decadence. Dark chocolate pairs beautifully with the sweetness of coconut, while milk chocolate offers a creamy complement. For an artistic touch, use a fork to drizzle the chocolate in a zigzag pattern over the cookies.

Looking for more ways to add chocolate to your life? Check out our recipe for chocolate marshmallow cookies here.

Coconut Oatmeal Cookies for Any Occasion 

One of the best things about these cookies is their versatility. They’re perfect for: 

Afternoon Snacks: Pair them with a cup of coffee or tea for a cozy break. 

Holiday Treats: Add them to your cookie platter for a tropical twist on traditional offerings. 

Gifting: Package them in a pretty tin or cellophane bag tied with a ribbon for a thoughtful homemade gift. 

Lunchboxes: Their hearty ingredients make them a satisfying addition to lunchboxes for kids and adults alike. 

A Nostalgic Baking Experience 

Baking coconut oatmeal cookies isn’t just about the end result—it’s about the process. The familiar act of creaming butter and sugar, the aroma of vanilla wafting through the kitchen, and the satisfaction of pulling golden-brown cookies from the oven create an experience steeped in comfort and nostalgia. It’s a reminder of simpler times, when homemade treats brought people together and filled homes with warmth.

 Storage Tips 

To keep your coconut oatmeal cookies fresh and delicious: 

Room Temperature: Store in an airtight container for up to a week. 

Freezing: These cookies freeze beautifully. Place them in a single layer on a baking sheet to freeze, then transfer them to a zip-top bag or airtight container. They’ll keep for up to three months. 

When ready to enjoy, thaw the cookies at room temperature or warm them briefly in the microwave for that just-baked feel.

 

Why You’ll Love This Recipe 

This recipe is straightforward, requiring no advanced techniques or fancy equipment. The ingredients are pantry staples, making it easy to whip up a batch whenever the craving strikes. Plus, the dough doesn’t need to be chilled, so you can go from mixing bowl to oven in no time. 

But the real reason you’ll love these cookies? They’re deliciously addictive. The combination of oats and coconut, with the option of chocolate, creates a treat that’s hard to resist. Whether you’re a seasoned baker or a beginner, these cookies are sure to impress.

Conclusion 

Coconut oatmeal cookies are a celebration of flavor, texture, and tradition. They bring together the best of both worlds: the heartiness of oats and the sweet chew of coconut. Whether enjoyed warm from the oven, dipped in chocolate, or paired with a glass of milk, these cookies are a little bite of happiness. 

So why wait? Preheat your oven, gather your ingredients, and treat yourself to a batch of these delightful cookies. Your kitchen will smell heavenly, and your taste buds will thank you.

Coconut Oatmeal Cookies

Recipe by adminDifficulty: Easy
Prep time

15

minutes
Cooking time

12

minutes

Ingredients

  • Wet Ingredients:

  • – 1 cup butter, softened

  • – 1 cup brown sugar

  • – 1/2 cup white sugar

  • – 2 eggs

  • – 2 tsp vanilla extract

  • Dry Ingredients:

  • – 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

  • – 1/2 tsp baking soda

  • – 1 tsp salt

  • Mix-ins:

  • – 3 cups quick oats

  • – 1 cup sweetened shredded coconut

  • Optional Topping

  • – Chocolate chips

Directions

  • Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone liner.
  • In a large bowl, cream together the butter, brown sugar, and white sugar until light and fluffy.
  • Beat in the eggs one at a time, then stir in the vanilla extract.
  • In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt. Gradually mix the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients.
  • Fold in the oats and shredded coconut until evenly combined.
  • Roll into balls and place on the cookie sheet, with 2 inches of spacing between each.
  • Add chocolate chips (if using)
  • Bake for 12 minutes, or until the edges are lightly golden.
  • Cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

Portuguese Chicken Recipe With Rice

A Flavorful One-Pot Meal You’ll Love 

If you’re looking for a comforting and flavorful meal that captures the essence of Portuguese cuisine, look no further than this Portuguese chicken recipe. With its aromatic spices, tender chicken, and perfectly cooked rice, this one-pot dish is as practical as it is delicious. It’s perfect for family dinners, gatherings, or even meal prepping for the week. 

What sets this recipe apart is the balance of rich, savory flavors paired with subtle aromatic notes from bay leaves and cinnamon—a hallmark of Portuguese cooking. Here, we’ll dive deep into the appeal of this dish, why leaving the skin on the chicken enhances the flavor, and tips to make it your own. 

Portuguese chicken and rice

The Allure of Portuguese Cooking 

Portuguese cuisine is steeped in history, shaped by the country’s geographic location and its rich maritime culture. With influences from Mediterranean, African, and even Asian flavors, Portuguese food is all about bold tastes, fresh ingredients, and a love of simplicity. 

In many traditional dishes, such as arroz de pato (duck rice) or feijoada (bean stew), the focus is on creating layers of flavor with a minimal number of steps. This Portuguese chicken recipe follows the same principle, combining chicken, rice, and a few carefully chosen aromatics into a dish that feels greater than the sum of its parts. 

The use of spices is another hallmark of Portuguese cooking, a tradition rooted in the country’s historic role in the spice trade. Cinnamon, in particular, is often used in savory dishes to create a subtle warmth. In this recipe, the cinnamon pairs beautifully with the bay leaves, creating a unique flavor profile that’s as comforting as it is complex. 

The Secret Is in the Chicken Skin 

One of the defining features of this Portuguese chicken recipe is leaving the skin on the chicken during the cooking process. While some may prefer skinless chicken for health reasons, the benefits of cooking with the skin on are undeniable. 

Portuguese chicken and rice.

When chicken is fried with the skin on, the fat renders out, creating a golden, crispy exterior while also enriching the dish with flavor. The rendered fat infuses the onions, garlic, and spices as they cook, acting as a natural flavor enhancer. This results in a richer and more satisfying dish overall. 

For those who don’t enjoy eating chicken skin, there’s no need to worry—it can easily be removed before serving. However, the skin’s role during cooking is invaluable and shouldn’t be skipped. Even if you don’t eat it, you’ll taste the difference in the final dish. 

Making It Your Own 

One of the best things about this Portuguese chicken recipe is its versatility. While the base ingredients and aromatics create a robust flavor, there’s plenty of room for customization: 

Add Vegetables: Incorporate chopped bell peppers, peas, or tomatoes to add color and nutrition. These vegetables cook well alongside the rice and enhance the dish with their natural sweetness. 

Spice It Up: If you’re a fan of heat, consider adding peri-peri sauce or crushed red pepper flakes. These spicy additions tie in beautifully with the Portuguese culinary tradition. 

Use Different Grains: While rice is traditional, you can experiment with other grains like quinoa or farro for a modern twist. Adjust the liquid and cooking time accordingly. 

Herb Variations: If parsley isn’t your favorite herb, try cilantro or fresh oregano. Both pair wonderfully with the dish’s warm, earthy flavors. 

A Portuguese Chicken Recipe for Every Occasion 

What makes this Portuguese chicken recipe so special is how adaptable it is to any occasion. For a family dinner, it’s a comforting dish that brings everyone to the table. For entertaining guests, its fragrant aroma and beautiful presentation make it a standout. And for meal prep, it’s a convenient one-pot solution that reheats beautifully. 

This dish is also deeply tied to the idea of community and sharing, a value central to Portuguese culture. Traditionally, meals in Portugal are meant to be enjoyed slowly, with good company and conversation. Serving this dish with a bottle of Portuguese wine or some crusty bread can transform a simple dinner into a meaningful gathering. 

A Word on Technique 

Although this dish is straightforward to prepare, a few simple techniques can elevate it: 

Sear the Chicken Properly: Take the time to brown the chicken thoroughly, as this step develops the deep, savory flavors that carry through the entire dish. 

Don’t Rush the Onions: Cooking the onions until they are soft and translucent allows them to caramelize slightly, enhancing their natural sweetness. 

Mind the Rice: Keep an eye on the liquid levels as the rice cooks. You want it to be tender but not mushy, so adjust with additional stock or water as needed. 

These small details ensure that the dish turns out perfectly every time, rewarding your effort with a meal that feels both rustic and refined. 

A Taste of Portugal 

There’s something magical about a dish that can transport you to another place, and this Portuguese chicken recipe does just that. From the first bite, you’re met with the warmth of cinnamon, the freshness of bay leaves, and the satisfying richness of chicken and rice cooked together. 

It’s a dish that speaks to the heart of Portuguese cooking—bold, flavorful, and rooted in a tradition of bringing people together around the table. Whether you’re recreating memories of a trip to Portugal or simply exploring new cuisines from home, this recipe is sure to become a favorite in your kitchen. 

So, why not give it a try? Your taste buds—and your family—will thank you.

Portuguese Chicken Recipe With Rice

Recipe by adminCourse: MainDifficulty: Easy
Prep Time

15

minutes
Cooking time

20

minutes

Ingredients

  • Ingredients:
    Chicken pieces (thighs, drumsticks, or a mix), seasoned with salt and pepper

  • Olive oil for frying

  • 1 onion, finely chopped

  • Spices (1/2 tbsp paprika, pinch cinnamon)

  • 1 tbsp pepper paste

  • 2-3 garlic cloves, minced

  • 4 cups rice, rinsed

  • 7 cups chicken stock (plus extra if needed)

  • 2-3 bay leaves

  • Fresh parsley, chopped (for garnish)

Directions

  • Brown the chicken: Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the chicken, skin side down, and fry until lightly browned on both sides. Remove the chicken and set aside.
  • Cook onions and spices: In the same pot, add the onions and spices. Stir constantly, cooking until the onions become translucent and fragrant.
  • Add garlic: Stir in the minced garlic and cook for 1 minute, being careful not to burn it.
  • Return the chicken: Place the browned chicken back into the pot.
  • Add rice and stock: Spread the rinsed rice over the chicken. Pour in the chicken stock and gently stir to distribute the rice evenly without disturbing the chicken.
  • Add aromatics: Add the bay leaves and cinnamon to the pot.
  • Cook: Cover the pot and bring it to a boil. Once boiling, reduce the heat to low and let it simmer until the rice is fully cooked, about 15 minutes. Check occasionally and add more water or stock needed to ensure the rice doesn’t dry out.
  • Finish and serve: Remove from heat and discard the bay leaves . Garnish with fresh parsley and serve hot.

Dirty Dishes and Dusty Floors

Photo by Jenna Norman on Unsplash

I Have A Dream

Pristine, swept floors – floors which seem to go for miles as your eyes trace the interlocking wood planks down to the bay windows on the other side of the house. The smell of baking. A garden, pruned and detailed. Weeded meticulously. Counter tops that serve their intended purpose – beyond mail, homework and neglected dishes. Pencils that sit neatly in their cup, waiting to be found predictably when needed. A crumbless kitchen. This is not my house.

When we lived in our little ’58 bungalow in the old part of the city, I was sure that our inability to maintain order for longer than 3 days (okay, 2) at a time, came down to a disproportionate ratio of belongings to space (1 456 491:1).

As I write this from my bigger, brighter open concept home, dishes sit, unwashed since last night’s dinner. Laundry cries out, spilling from hampers, garbage bins try to hold their own while we overwhelm them and my kitchen counter stares arrogantly at me. I think it’s saying: “Your Grandmother would never have let this happen despite her four kids”. My counters would be right.

Master of Her Domain

You see, I come from a family where neither the men, nor the women, sit down. They are productive from the time their feet hit the cold ground in the morning to the time they fall, presumably from exhaustion, into bed at night. I’d love to have had the genetics of these people. Instead, I was born with a love of cooking (not cleaning), more creative (less order) and a cynicism that suggests to me that to keep cleaning this house while my family lives here might just be paving my own road to crazy.

Other indicators of genetic difference can be seen when, for example, Grandma gets into a near-miss situation in her Lincoln and yells with passionate anger at the other guy: “TURKEY!” I’m not sure how I react to those situations. I can only assume I black out from rage. I digress.

Much as I’ve tried, nearly seven years in, I have never mastered the art of ‘staying home’. I have begun to wonder what it means to stay at home, exactly. I think the true definition lies somewhere between existential intellectual boredom, and doing everything you normally do, but from within the home while a 3-year-old dictator trades catastrophic mess for brief allowances of productive writing moments (unless there are bathrooms to be cleaned).

Whenever I have slept enough, and feel physically and mentally available to take on the disorder in my home, I have found my efforts thwarted by commitments, interruptions, or a general sense of the futility of the cleaning itself. When all things remain equal, the recommendations make sense: dishes daily, and laundry, too. Maintain, maintain, maintain. But that’s the thing about things. They’re variable.

Cosmic Balance

The only evidence of balance I see here is in kids who take turns with dramatic illness, returning to their devilish selves (Tasmanian, I mean) just in time for whatever ails them to be sneezed onto me. Or, my tired slowness from the seeming perpetual darkness that is Canadian winter is finally overcome, and then – cramps. You get the idea.

I sometimes question whether my frequent failure to keep up is an indication of a laziness or immaturity on my part. Like somehow, other moms know something that I don’t.  Maybe, I need to try harder for my family, find more time in the day and more energy to make everything happen at once. I’m slowly making peace with this notion, having analyzed my situation to death in the absence of the magic wand I so desperately require. Besides, my husband didn’t marry ‘lazy’ and my parents didn’t raise it. So here I am, left with the understanding that unless I stop writing altogether, the expectation of order will remain a hallucinogenic construct, bred of someone’s delusional mind – until the little kid years are over.

Aiming for Sanity

Since not writing is out of the question, these will be the times when I learn who my friends are. These will be the years that I look back on, when things are easier, and, with perspective offered from the vantage point of hindsight, give myself a break.  When kids are sick, and hair’s a mess and scarcely surviving is all that can be done – it’s okay.

Parenthood is an uphill battle for most of us, save a few saints who were put on earth solely to make other mothers feel like they didn’t get the memo. Amidst gauntlets of toys, shoes and washed but unfolded laundry that my husband tries to clothe himself from at 5 in the morning, we do the best we can. Some days we do okay, some days we might as well not have gotten out of bed at all. But if you accept the fact that, for now, you can’t win at this game, you get comfortable with participation points and the oft underappreciated consolation prize called Sanity.

On days like this I lean into this thought: that these are the years, and they won’t be here forever.

Writing for Peace

Always Someday

Before kids, I always thought that there would be a time for writing. Somewhere off on the horizon when I was done with the all-consuming (life sucking?) office job, when I caught up on things and organized my life. The funniest of my delusions included “when the babies come, and the stress is less”. At a time when my personal load of responsibilities was so manageable I should have been writing voraciously, but I allowed the someday mentality to overtake me, and writing had to wait.

In my youthful ignorance I had not factored in such things as babies being machines made for consumption of all available resources. I hadn’t considered things like sick babies who cry incessantly for the first 6 months of their lives, the fact that you can’t form thoughts when you haven’t slept or that when you write from the underbelly of postpartum depression, it shows. The babies came, and the job went away. Since going back to work outside the home in my fragile state wasn’t an option, I needed to find an alternate way to contribute. Writing wasn’t coming easy in my sleep deprived state, so it had to wait.

Much Too Much

Five years and another baby later, my flexible easy-going work-from-home side job had become what I did seven days a week. I rarely spent quality time with my family, rarely cooked them dinner, rarely saw my husband who was working obscene hours himself, and rarely smiled. Both my children had medical needs demanding my attention, and if it weren’t for my mother, I was guaranteed a failing grade on that score. I remember the day that I left my doctor’s office with seven (yes, seven) prescriptions. Some for sleep, some for my worsening depression, and some to help keep me upright from the debilitating stress and work induced pain all over my body.

At 32, I had become the person I never thought I would be. A joyless, overweight product of a lifestyle that was neither honouring me nor my family – and all in the name of making sure that no one thought I was lazy. I was going to contribute if it killed me, and it might have. Either way, writing had to wait.

In May of last year, the greatest gift of my recent years was bestowed upon me when I asked my body to keep going and it replied, simply and assertively, No.

That was that. My body wasn’t just asking for a reduction in the pace of things, it was making it very clear that until everything in my life changed, it wouldn’t either. My nervous system was shot, and I had no physical tolerance for anything. Light and sound stimulus was too much, I was uncoordinated, and I could feel my insides shaking even on the brink of sleep. I was scared.

Changing The Game

I didn’t take a break from work, I shut my small business down abruptly and entirely. We cut every expense that we could reasonably cut, and I was humbled into prioritizing and re-evaluating my values. I spent time sitting and staring at the walls. So much soul searching ensued, and my circle of concern shrunk dramatically. I no longer had time for relationships that weren’t reciprocal, I no longer felt compelled to prove anything to anyone, and I was left with the desire to actively control the quality of only three things in my life: family, health, and peace. Writing could join the conversation.

So we ate some green vegetables, I started sleeping, and I lost 20 pounds. My body came back better and stronger than I remember it. My husband and I put things in motion for him to get a regular 9 to 5 schedule and suddenly, we were a family again. I played with my kids, cleaned and organized my house and created a dedicated place for writing in the front of it, where the sun shines in from three beautiful bay windows all day long.

Priorities

There is a moment after life events like this where, when you speak, the people who really love you listen. Without questioning and without judgment, though perhaps out of fear, my family heard me when I said that writing is where my peace lies. No longer was I going to be the mom who would like to write, I am now the writer who writes to keep the current of life from swallowing me whole. I am the writer who writes so that my children can see me smile. I am the writer who writes to remind her husband of what is Me. And when writing helps pay the bills, I celebrate it without making it my focus.

If you’ve ever wondered when, exactly, one becomes a writer the answer is this: when you start behaving like one. When you do what you need to do to put yourself in that world, you become, once again, who you are at your core.

Mining Gratitude

Happiness, it turns out, is found within fractional moments of inspired gratitude. Moments where we honour our foundational selves to the detriment of all the fake plastic, albeit necessary, pieces of our lives. Give yourself something to feel a moment of genuine gratitude for, something that makes your life feel uncontrived. Writing as a mother will never be easy, but carving out a protected place of respite from the demands of the day will allows me to give the very best of myself to the experiences and the people in my life who deserve me the most. After all, self-care is self-respect, and our precious children are watching.

No Rest for the Christmas Machine

Every Year, I Try to Muster the Courage to Take On the Christmas Season With A Smile.

I don’t consider myself to be characteristically negative, but I am sure that Christmas was designed specifically to upset the delicate balance that my family has worked so hard to strike since school started in September. Now it’s cold, it’s dark, and the most stressful time of year waits on its haunches to initiate its daunting regime of consumer slavery.

Time Demands

As if there aren’t enough demands on our time, Christmas events seem to begin in November and not end until the year is through. It isn’t like you’ll be hanging out with your friends to sip mulled wine and expensive beer to pass those months, either. Nooo. You won’t even see your friends until sometime mid-January when we’re all still too paralyzed with fear to check our bank accounts, but we manage to find couch change for a coffee together.

Instead, you’ll spend your time amidst coworkers and extended family in rooms with no circulation and 5 people who are perpetually hacking. Your weekends will consist of shaking something store bought into your favourite dessert dish, and convincing your 6-year-old that ‘yes’ is the correct response when Grandma asks if he helped make it. Which brings us to the age-old subject of communal food. As much as I’d love to try cat lady’s new recipe, the pictures of her cat sitting in every Tupperware dish she has exists on her cubicle wall as a constant reminder that it might be better if I did not.

Abstaining affords you better chances of not finding feline pelt in your food, and lowers your chances of being seen indulging your weaknesses by that weird uncle that everyone has; the one who must remark upon every stress induced pound you’ve incurred in the days leading up to this bizarre charade. Insert eye roll here.

Visions of Sugar Plums

I put this reality out of my head in the beginning, imagining quiet evenings by the fire with my husband and kids with a great glass of wine and Christmas movies. Maybe a quick drive around town to look at the beautiful Christmas lights that always warm my cold cold Christmas heart, having time for the kids to actually play with the things they received, and an entire day in pajamas.

I am typically disabused of this idealist notion by the first week of December, or the third migraine of the month, whichever comes first. Friends and colleagues are always abuzz with excitement for this all-too-frequent occasion, and I just feel like Wednesday Adams in the corner as reality takes a foothold in me.

Hold Your Horses

First, there should be a moratorium on the very word until the month within which “it” occurs. There is nothing more frustrating than living through chaos from November 1st through December 26th because your kids know it’s coming but can’t really understand when, so they exist in a continuous state of nervous excitability (read: no one is listening unless mom is crying). By December 15th I am always sure that if I hear my kids casually tell me to ‘add it to the list’ one more time while educating me on the virtues of the newest Poké-whatever, my head is certain to explode and traumatize somebody.

As early as mid-October, Christmas enters the commercial stage with about as much grace as a cross eyed seagull on skates. Pumpkins are lucky to make it out in one piece after that magnificent red bully shows its face. I’m pretty sure the atmosphere in a shopping mall around Christmas could be effectively used for military-grade interrogation. Put me in a 30-person lineup with some shrill Christmas Carol on repeat and I promise you my composure will not last. I’ve had more public altercations in Christmas lineups than Edith Bunker was told to stifle. The year that I was six months pregnant at Christmas I should not even have been allowed to participate, it would have been easier for everyone.

Dollar Bills

Trying to do Christmas on a budget these days is practically impossible, given the expectations. I can scarcely manage supplying my immediate family with what they deem reasonable, it fills me with rage when I am pressured to perform at the level of extended family (many of whom I don’t even see on the regular). You might as well just concede and buy for everyone you’ve ever so much as cast a sideways glance to, because the second you think you’ve had the ‘we’re not going crazy this year, only buying for the kids’ conversation, someone will decide to give you something anyway and act like it’s possible for you not to stand there feeling like a shmuck.

There’s always the scenery to admire while you’re shopping, though, isn’t there? Line after line of enthusiastic parents and tired hungry kids waiting for a snapshot with old Saint Nick. Oh, mall Santa. There’s something about an aged man voluntarily subjecting himself to being sat upon by kids with leaky diapers and random animals all day long that just doesn’t compute for me. Between that, and Santa’s awkward joke about my eight-month-old wanting dog food for Christmas, I have pretty much made my peace with this particular issue. So, my kids are deprived and I’m a bad mom – you can add that to the list, too.

On to the family festivities you’ll go, boxes of overpriced trinkets in tow. Ready to dive into another potluck feast before crawling back into the snow-covered car to test your threshold for terror on icy Alberta roads to get to the next event that you hope you can keep yourself awake for. This is another consequence of the divorce rate, you know. Since no one is married anymore, good luck spreading your holiday time around equally! You’ll end up spending most of the day taking your kids in and out of the car and bundling and de-bundling them in a futile effort to keep everyone happy before eventually succumbing to the festive season stroke you so-deserve (unless you’ve already yielded to death by small talk). Hospital stays are the new all-inclusive parental retreats, dontchaknow.

Scotchy Scotch Scotch

There is unprecedented pressure not to drink too much at Christmas, which I think, given the circumstances, is cruel and unreasonable. And because I’m not good at following rules, I tend to do it anyway, say f*ck too many times, and generally remind people of why they judge me from January to November. Whomever said that I lack in gregariousness has clearly not spoken to me at 9 o’clock on Christmas night. Exhausted by the leadup, and unstable with resentment, I usually find my ‘socializing groove’ somewhere between 8 and 9pm. Right about the time that my husband is trying to politely point me in the direction of the car while I regale him with a passionate story about some delicious potluck mystery I just fell in love with (because four glasses of wine is the magic number if you’re trying to transcend your fear of potluck-anything).

Everyone has anxiety, traffic is insane, terrible music is absolutely inescapable outside the confines of your own home (I dare you to turn on your car radio). Just when you get done with the mounting, lighting, decorating, purchasing, wrapping and bedazzling (all while working your full-time job, of course) you settle in for your 5 seconds of peace and realize – it’s over. It’s over and tomorrow real life will start again. Not an ounce of Christmas vacation, and certainly no vacation from Christmas.