I love Christmas, I really really do. I am like Mavis Cruet from Willow the Whisp, slightly (ok maybe more than slightly) overweight and dishing out my sparkly festive magic all over the place.
But as much as I love it all, what on earth possessed me to try and do 3 Christmas parties and an Asda shop on Christmas eve EVE???
Its like I wanted to set myself up to fail at Christmas…
The 1st party was lovely, a serene lunch with my work colleagues all tucking into a lovely M & S spread. Well, it was lovely until my fish phobic self merrily dunked a breadstick into the hummus that was actually mackerel pate and loudly dry heaved all-round the room. It wasn’t pretty.
The next party was basically 40 sugar fuelled, over excited children charging round the local scout hut like demons…. The less said about this the better. By this point I couldn’t even face party number 3 and went home to bed!
Christmas Eve morning was a lovely relaxed affair until we realised we were late for the birthday buffet and I had to shoe horn 2 unwashed chocolate covered hyper kids in to their party clothes to head to granny and grandads. You see BOTH my mother and father in law are born on Xmas day, it makes present buying, birthday celebrations and general festive season logistics a bloody nightmare. Is it a Christmas present or a birthday present, is it joint or solo, never can there be a joint Christmas / birthday present…. And they are just my rules. The Ma in law has a whole host of others….. Like the time she asked us to get her 50th birthday cake, a chocolate lion is not acceptable apparently, but I have no idea why not!?!?
On the way over I spot a roadside van selling flowers and instruct the hubby to pull over, so The Diva and I can hop out to pick granny some birthday flowers. They were beautiful but it was only as we walked through her front door did I spot the ‘In Loving memory’ card, just in time to use my Go Go Gadget Arm to intercept it as The Diva loudly announced “I picked these” to the assembled guests. It dawned on me then why I had seen this van parked up forlornly selling flowers each time I drove past THE CEMETARY!!!
I needed a bloody drink! Probably not as much prosecco as I consumed with my lovely cousins mind. It was almost as if I was in denial of what actually still needed to be done! Hic….. it was decided that the little ones were allowed one early Christmas present from granny as a treat.
Needless to say The Wrecking ball eagerly ripped in to what can only be described as the LOUDEST, most ANNOYING fire engine known to man, it NEE-NAWS and DEE-DAWS and WOO-WOOS none stop all while spinning on its axis making a TIC-TIC-TIC noise! We tried to enforce the the ‘if you buy it then it lives at your house rule’ but The Wrecker was having none of it……. I may or may not be lying if I said the fire engine accidently fell out of the car on the M65!
The Diva was much more delicate in her gift opening, an excited smile plastered across her pretty face…… then there were tears, lots and lots of tears as she threw herself in to her Dads arms with sobs or ‘I am not a baby’.
Turns out that Granny should pay more attention to what she is buying – the 7 year old Diva did not appreciate the Disney Frozen toilet training seat. In Granny’s defence she just saw something Frozen (the Diva doesn’t like Frozen) and bought it as a treat.
This Christmas shall be forever referred to as the ‘one with the toilet seat’. I am not sure which was more annoying all the way home, the damn fire engine or the Diva’s heartfelt sobs of ‘why did everyone laugh’ for the full 12 miles home!
It was late now, so we fed the kids a supper of more chocolate and dumped them sugar high and singing Jingle bells into the respective beds!
I sat to enjoy a coffee laced with Bailey’s while the hubby set to building Barbies Dream House. I thought I had a plethora of swear words in my vocab to express my emotions….. Turns out there are loads I can now add that I learnt in the 2 and a half hours it took him to build. Barbie has “f$*king spiral staircase” don’t you know?!?!?”
I had to stay up to place all the furniture in it, my OCD would allow him to do it. It was midnight by the time I had clambered in to bed….before getting back out to go and eat a mince pie and Rudolph’s damn bloody carrot!!!
The Diva came in to our room at 12.30am, 2.10am (she heard Santa knock) 3am and finally 3.20am before being told that santa would not come if she didn’t get to bloody sleep….. good job she didn’t notice the already stuffed stocking at the end of her bed or there would have been no hope!
It was around 4am that I went on my undie clad wander downstairs….. Convinced that I hadn’t turned the slow cooker on and the beef wasn’t cooking as I couldn’t smell it….. it was and I just looked like a nobbo. I didn’t bother going back to sleep by this point.
Christmas morning was lovely and the kids and I were blessed with some lovely gifts…… I have more alcohol than is socially acceptable to drink. Good job I am not socially acceptable!
I also must have been having an out of body experience when I saw fit to buy the kids Doggy Doo…. We have a real life dog and no one wants to win by scooping up three of his poop’s, trust me!
I have an OCD about dirty hands…. Doggy Doo and the synthetic slimy goo is my idea of hell! I retreated to make dinner with a glass of fizz and #Now Christmas.
Turns out I forgot to buy Goose Fat and the only oil I had was Carotino, a healthy bright orange alternative. The roasties were very tasty but did remind me of a potato version of Josey Essex and they clashed massively with the sprouts! I didn’t forget to buy Yorkshire Puds (yes I know not an Xmas lunch staple but I like them)….. I did forget to cook them though and have about 20 in my freezer. Yorkshire pud based meal ideas anyone?
It got worse…. The hubby pushed the cork into the bottle of Rioja showing off with my fancy new bottle opener and the dog ate the leftovers my parents had wrapped to take home for supper. He wasn’t even discreet and waddled over post feast with a small mound of carrot and swede on his nose to say thanks….. my dad then sat quietly seething that the fat chocolate Labrador had eaten his turkey butty supper.
I was looking forward to a relaxing Boxing Day, turns out that Doc McWrecker had other ideas as he tended to my delicate prosecco head with his newly acquired Dr’s kit with all the care and bedside manner of a triceratops.
Up early I decided to brave Asda for some bits I didn’t need. I was happily perusing the kids sale rails when someone tried to take a coat hanger out of my had, I mean I actually had hold of it looking at the small boys top….. she loudly told me she had that top 1st, she didn’t and I told her so.
I didn’t even like the top so in true Christmas Spirit I hid it in the crisp aisle before I left.
When do I go back to work please???