I make all my Christmas presents by hand

I made an error of judgment. Over the past few weeks, I’ve spent every waking moment not working or trying to keep my house tidy, surrounded by skeins of thread and needles.

Fabric scraps and threads cling to my clothes and our kitchen table is now the permanent home of my long-suffering sewing machine. Everywhere I look there are measuring tapes, scissors and needles – except of course when I need them. And there’s a frenzied energy bubbling beneath the surface that I can (just) keep at bay.

My self-esteem is also frayed. There’s a constant countdown looming behind my eyelids and I make repeated calculations about how much time I have left before the deadline. The euphoria of checking off a task lasts about 10 seconds, before quickly resuming what hasn’t yet been completed. Or, scarier still, what I haven’t started. All at the busiest time of the year, both professionally and socially.

At the end of October, I made the bold decision to not just make my wife’s Christmas present, as had been planned for a long time, but to knit or sew all my presents, plus one for my mother-in-law . This meant I had to gather a tool belt, a craft case, a pair of mittens, another pair of gloves, and three hats of varying complexity. All within a six-week window.

That would be fun! I told myself. None of these things are (that much) of a challenge in and of themselves. I’m a good, relatively quick knitter and I love the calming and creative logic of the practice. Sewing is a newer hobby, but I’m really enjoying the challenge – it’s much more complex but fun to learn and I’m finally starting to use my otherwise neglected sewing machine.

I am someone who enjoys time spent at home, listening to my little audiobooks and working on my little projects. This is what my weekends often look like anyway. So this would be a way to let everyone benefit from my hobby.

Even though I really enjoy creating things, I tend to be very selfish about it. The vast majority of what I do is for me, and always will be, but I thought it would be both fun, potentially cheaper, and deeply magnanimous to focus entirely on creating things for the people I I love, rather than for myself. Being able to create something specifically for someone you love is such a joy, why not multiply that by six? And of course, this will come with the added benefit that the glory will reflect back on me. I can smile, blissfully, as they marvel at my talent in one breath, and gush over this thoughtful gift in the next.

Why wouldn’t I want to do that?

I’m immersed in the answers to this question. First, there is the cost. By my estimate, I spent around £150 on yarns, wools and patterns, which is certainly less than I would have spent in stores buying gifts for six people. But that doesn’t include the fact that I had all the necessary equipment – a (relatively cheap) sewing machine which cost around £150, a full set of needles (my current set cost around £80), fabric scissors (£10), needles, thread… and of course the time spent.

Time wise, I knit a few hours each weekday, sew about 10 hours a day (I’m not a fast seamstress) both weekend days, and spent a few days knitting and to watch Yellow jackets. In total I have spent around 100 hours to date on these gifts and will spend another 30, which at minimum wage would equate to £1,588 gross salary. Add in the cost of the materials and it comes to around £1,978 in total, or around £329 per gift. Way more than I ever spent on Christmas presents.

And as you can imagine, it took over my life.

Where once I would have walked my dog, done laundry, or seen friends, now I frown at a project. I started knitting an hour before work and spending my evenings putting patterns together. My weekends are largely dedicated to completing my list. It’s disturbing that this entirely self-inflicted choice threatens to rob me of the joy of my hobby.

And then it’s a question of taste. The most “tasteful” items are often the most boring to make. And when you give a gift to others, you always want it to be something they will actually use. The nuances are therefore muted, so they go with everything; the techniques used are simple and repetitive, in order to give them the best possible quality. This means fine threads, uninteresting stitch patterns, temperate shades. Not a bad way to spend your time. But not being able to break away from the more fun things that I know my most dedicated customer (me) would enjoy? This can make the hobby I love…boring.

In my most overwhelmed moments, I worry that I can do all this work and that what I offer is not “enough.” People I love know I love doing this, so maybe that cheapens the gift? Maybe the fact that they’re props makes them less impressive or less valuable. What if after all that, the fact that they were made by me wasn’t enough to make it special?

As of writing this post, I have completed two hats, two and a half gloves, as well as the tool belt and craft case. I have a glove and a hat to make. I know I will meet this deadline, but I also know that if I ever do this again, I will start much earlier in the year and with a much clearer plan. It’s too much for even the most craft-loving woman. I might avoid this altogether next year. Instead, my loved ones will receive a card showing the time spent on their 2024 gifts, so it really counts for 2025 too.

Meanwhile, my deadline is the weekend before this one, where I will then have to embark on my next unnecessarily pressured project: sewing a dress for various Christmas parties. No one asked me to do this except me. I am convinced that this will bring as much stress as pleasure. But what can I say? I refuse to learn my lesson.