There is one woman more famous yet more reclusive than Beyonce, Harper Lee, and Greta Garbo put together. For this blog post, the Mulk has managed to gently persuade the reclusive Mrs Santa Claus in sharing her story and revealing the answer to the burning question every woman is dying to know :

“What is her secret to the Perfect Christmas?”

How in the world does Mrs Santa Claus look so cool and happy on Christmas Eve after baking 2000 chocolate chip cookies, 500 Christmas cakes, 750 turkeys, 500kgs of potatoes, 500 broccoli and making 1000 mugs of hot cocoa (picking, wrapping and gifting 1000 perfectly chosen presents- obviously the Elves and Santa get a present for Christmas too, right?) for all 999 elves and one Santa?

Do the elves help? Does Santa help? Does she have a Magical Kitchen, the Super Elf blender, thermomix? Santa has magic to fly and squeeze through fireplaces, surely, Mrs Santa Claus has magic to bake 2000 cookies in one night?

The MULK has spent too many Christmas Eves queuing in desperation for last minute presents, crying at the check out because the store was closing in 5 minutes and had grabbed a box of Tampons for my partner because that was all they had on special left. Besides,  he had declared he was on a low carb diet this year, and he did say, “Oh, honey, get me anything! I’m easy…but best it be useful AND surprise me!”  Boy, was he ever surprised!

The MULK has also been officially diagnosed with Colour Christmas Blindness, buying and decorating the Tree and the house at random as if  I was in a Lady Gaga Music Video and my children have threatened to disown me if I continued my purple and green obsession.

The MULK has cried over many “burnt on the outside but still raw in the middle” Christmas cakes,  over a 109 page recipe for a gourmet 7 course Christmas dinner which the youngest just decided he would be Picasso with my food as his paints and my walls as his canvas and the other older kids, let’s not even go there, let’s just say that I have been issued with an “Illegal Cooking Christmas Dinner” warning.

What was her secret? I was determined to discover her secret! This was going to be MY year for the Perfect Christmas!

Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, we all know him, his story of flying through the night on his sleigh but what about the woman behind the man? Heck, we know Rudolph’s story better than of the female force behind the man. So, for the sake of all people slaving in the kitchen for Christmas and doing mad frantic shopping, this ordinary Mum, aka The Mulk, living in the suburbs had decided to go in search of this incredible woman – the Hot Cocoa, Cookie and Cake, all Christmas Virtuoso, with a Go-Pro strapped on my forehead!

How hard could it be to look for this lady who lived at the world’s most public address – 1SC, North Pole, 9999?


Xmas sign

I bid my family farewell and set off then with my Go-Pro, my Fitbit cum GPS, a snowsuit, a barrel of wine, and of course, two pairs of clean underwear. I canoed enthusiastically to Auckland with my wine barrel (to gift the Lovely Mrs Claus) and took a sip and started singing, “I can do this! I can do this! I am going to discover the Secret to the Perfect Christmas!”

“This is more difficult, methinks!” I said to no one as my arms started aching soon after the first km.

I then paddled yoga-ed half-heartedly to Tahiti with the barrel on my feet.

“Whose idea was this again? My feet are killing me! Must be the husband,” I said as all wives would say.

I took another sip, and then swam limpidly with the barrel strapped to my back to the North Pole.

At this point, my wine barrel was empty, my liver was empty,  and I had run out of clean underwear.  I decided to put on wooden planks from the wine barrel and trekked to this fabled land of hot cocoa and perfectly shaped cookies. I was nearly half dead when my FitBit step count went to 50,023 wine barrel slaps. Usually I would have been ecstatic that I had beaten my cousin, my best friend, and 81 year old Muriel, my neighbour who lived down the road on the Fitbit challenge, but I only had the strength to slump into a ice heap because I had already been without wine and clean underwear for 12 hours.



There were so many little houses, 1A, 1B, 1AB, 1AC, and goodness, there must have been 999 little houses and my GPS kept saying “I had arrived at my destination”.

“I HAVE NOT ARRIVED AT MY DESTINATION, you sh*t cr*p piece of plastic!” The MULK in me roared. I was thirsty, had no clean underwear, and there was still no sign of 1SC.

How could there be so much ice but no more wine? Panic seized my body as all I could think was ….wi…….nnnn…..Cr*p, who bloody cared about Christmas anymore? When was Mother’s Day again? I then gracefully passed out on the ice, dreaming that I had been gifted the barrel of wine and  a pair of clean underwear on Mother’s Day.

Suddenly, I felt someone softly sponging my face with a warm cloth. I opened my eyes and saw that I was in the prettiest colour co-ordinated Christmassy decorated drawing room ever. There could only be one person!

“Buddy?” I groaned.

“No, dearie…it’s Mrs Claus, no, no, no, lie down…You’ve had a nasty shock!” she crooned in a soft silky voice. She was as I had imagined her to be.


Mrs Claus holding fresh baked cinnamon rolls by Christmas tree

She was just as Christmassy- as a Christmas Cake – rich, full, warm and simply divine, all wrapped in red and white. She then handed me a mug of the famousilious Hot Cocoa with Cookies and Cake! The Elves had found me, unconscious, and murmuring of Mrs Claus, wine, Cake and clean underwear and helped carry me to her home.

Fully revived and loaded on sugar and after persuading her that I was not a no sugar no carb crusader trying to convert her, Mrs Santa Claus, agreed to share a bit of her story.

Formerly, Deliciosus Crustum, from the tiny village of Sugarplums from the South Pole where she lived with her Father, Mother and 20 brothers and sisters, she helped her family run their world famous Bakery and Cake Shoppe. Delly was a wisp of a lass at 19, tending the counter, serving her famous Hot Cocoa when Santa walked in and everything else, they say, was Christmas history.

“Are you comfy, love? Is it warm enough? What about your cocoa? Is it sweet enough….Ohhh… are you recording now? Oh, oh, you are, dearie…Okay, okay, let’s begin… So what is that you wanted to know, love?” She asked.

“I…munch…munch…wanted to ask you…munch…what is….your…secret…to a Perfect…munch…munch…Chris…..tmas?” I asked with a mouthful of delicious Chocolate Cake.

“Magic, of course!” she declared.

“I KNEW IT!” I cried as I dance around in a jig with cake in one hand, “I knew it was magic! What’s the magic? Can you teach us mums (and dads) from all around the world?”

“Why, my dear…I use the same sort of magic that you do!”

“What? I don’t have magic? I’m just an ordinary person who ruins Christmas every year with my burnt Christmas Cake!” I said puzzedly.

“Oh, yes, you do have magic,” she grabbed a huge book which had “The Mother Naughty or Nice List” emblazoned on it and flipped to my name, “Mmmm, Agent Spitback as known as The Mulk, let’s see….”



Oh my word, there was a “Naughty or Nice book” for Mothers?  As I looked round at her bookshelf, I saw that there were different books for ALL ADULTS, all classified accordingly. I hope theft of Children’s Halloween Candy wasn’t there on my page? Or telling the children a white lie that the Ipad needed to rest because watching Peppa more than five times in a row was simply unacceptable!

“Mmmmm, here we go…..Agent Spitback aka The Mulk!” She said, “Let’s see….

  • You spent many days comforting a friend who had a relationship breakup,
  • You helped cook 200 pancakes at school fundraising,
  • You were your Mother’s rock when she had a Cancer Scare,
  • You held your partner’s hand when he was facing the darkest moments in his life,
  • You read a bedtime story to your little one even though you were already exhausted,
  • You still smile and hug your teenagers even though they called you OLD,
  • You cooked dinner for another friend who was ill,
  • You sent a birthday gift to family,
  • You had coffee with another friend,

..mmm…Oh, yes, you’ve been pretty good this year…Nice list! You will definitely have magic this year,” She smiled as she closed the book.

“Oh Delly, that’s NOT magic!  That’s just little ordinary things!” I cried out.

“Oh, but that’s what magic is,” Delly said, “When you call a friend, when you cheer a family member up, when you laugh, hug and kiss your child, when you share a dish with your neighbour, when you share a joke with a friend, that’s magic. There’s a bit of magic in extending a friendship, saying hello, saying you’re sorry, in shaking hands, and in a hug, dearie.”

“Mmmmm, but…” I said.

“Magic is created when ordinary people do extraordinary things …It is the magic of the little things for the past year that creates each Christmas. That is the secret to a Perfect Christmas.”

“But I’m not sure if I have that…” I struggled to finish the statement.

“El, my dear, you’ll have your kind of Perfect Christmas, like you do, every year, with those family and friends, burnt Cake or not, beautiful decorations or not, presents or not.” Mrs Claus then hugged and sent me on my way with 20 kgs of Christmas Cake on a special chartered flight back home.

I thought about what Delly had said and pondered about this magic business.

Maybe she’s overdosed on sugar or something…what magic…could I possibly have? 

I lugged the Perfectly shaped Christmas Cakes across the Airport Hall, but I dropped them all unto the ground, not caring about the Perfect Christmas Cakes anymore as soon as I saw them – my children, my partner, my family and my friends.

Enveloped in the hugs of my children, in the kisses of my partner, in the warm hellos of my family and the gentle ribbing of dear friends…as the cheerful warm banter continued over dinner, the Silly Sausage Mulk realised the truth in Delly’s words.



I travelled half the continent in search of the answer but the answer to that question had been at home all along, in me, in each of them, and in everyone of you.

“Truly, Christmas is not about perfect gifts, perfect decorations, perfect dinners, perfect outfits or prefect lights or even, gasp, perfect Christmas Cake…It is about celebrating the magic of perfect extraordinary acts by perfectly ordinary people!”

Christmas Fireplace

Agent Spitback aka The MULK wishes all of you and all your loved ones a TRULY magical Perfect Christmas! Please be gentle with Christmas Cake!


If you enjoyed this post, you can subscribe to my blog- at the sidebar for the Full Interview with Deliciosus Crustum, Mrs Santa Claus on the REAL Story of Christmas, coming up!

When The Mulk tries to be funny, I becomes Agent Spitback writing life nonsense for my Secret Diary

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Tweet me nonsense at (@AgentSpitback)


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