Day 11: Highs and Lows

Highs

At about 6.30am William calls across the sitting room ‘Alex, I love you’ and Alexa wakes up with an automated ‘Thank you. I love me too’ which has the boys falling apart laughing.

Having a good CrossFit session

Watching the boys scooting around Eaton park.

Meeting up with our friend from Edinburgh and her family.

William’s idea to have a ‘fancy meal’ at home where we have a table cloth and candles and wear ‘snazzy clothes’

Seeing work friends at the birthday party of Alex’s pal.

Lows

Alex and William being ‘those children’ at the birthday party.

William quickly losing interest in his fancy meal idea and then refusing to eat supper.

Getting changed in to my PE kit and comfy pregnancy knickers* and finding them a bit tight…

*preggo pants are excellent for squat sessions

Day 10: A Christmas Journey…on the M6

At some point at Christmas you will have to drive somewhere. There are certain recognisable stages to every day of travel.

Stage one: planning

‘We should probably get going by lunchtime/after breakfast/before bedtime’. The hours prior to departure must be spent not-quite-relaxing. Advise moving listlessly around ‘doing jobs’.

Stage two: packing

A clear division of labour is important: one of you may want to pack both children’s clothes, all the medicine and bathroom bits and snacks for the journey. Another of you may want to use all your teenage Tetris training to fit it in the boot.

Stage three: exit

A rousing chorus of ‘can you just get your shoes on?!’ accompanies all major exits from the house- a cliche all parents enjoy. A pound for every time you say one of the following;

‘Just.get.in.your.carseat.’

‘Did you pack the kids’ coats?’

‘Did you put the alarm on?’

‘ Why is this Sat Nav so f***ing slow?!’

Stage four: journey

Spirits may start high with Disney soundtracks and liberal distribution of snacks. Things usually deteriorate about mile 25. Bickering starts. Injustices happen. Snacks run dry. Spirits dampen. The footwell of your seat is up to your knees in wrapper, bribes, and maps and your right bum cheek has gone to sleep.

Stage five: arrival

Relief. Then dread. You have to unpack the car. Unpacking is the absolute pits. Try and provoke as hissing disagreement by being in opposite camps- ‘Let’s have a cuppa and unpack once the kids are settled’ versus the ‘Let’s just get it done and get a wash on’. Always fun.

Unpacking Christmas is always fun and may provoke a need to ‘have a sort out’ on a major scale and you may make wild promises to streamline, organise and reject capitalism. It will be short lived. You will do this all again next year.

‘It’s the most wonderful tiiiime of the yeeear’

Day 9

Hot morning breath whispers ‘mummy, shall we go downstairs and open some presents?’

Feel like expectations need readjusting…

I’m in charge of ‘using up the turkey’ today so pop out in the car to get puff pastry to make a pie.

Chap on till: ‘Have a nice Christmas?’

Me: ‘This is the first time I’ve been on my own for what feels like months! I’m going to drive home very slowly!’

CoT: ‘……’

Clutching my two-pack of puff pastry, I feel a bit silly for my outburst until I see a man in his car in the Co-Op car park – there are kids’ presents all over the backseat and he’s sitting behind the steering wheel listlessly cleaning it with a wet wipe and staring off in to the distance. I feel a deep sense of understanding.

Back home, the kids and in-laws have gone to the park so I listen to Desert Island Discs and make a turkey pie. It’s lovely.

Films. Chocolates. Booze.

‘A bit of fresh air’

Telly. Booze.

Turkey pie.

Booze.

Chocolate.

‘A little Bailey’s’

Bed.

Another glorious day of the Christmas Twixtmas.

Waiting for 2019 like…

In Praise of the Chrimbo Limbo: reasons to love the post-Christmas lull

The days between Christmas and New Year – fondly called Twixtmas by some or the Merrynium by others- are beloved days where your only deadlines are dictated by The Radio Times. The hubbub has reduced to a hum and it’s like all the good bits of an apocalypse.

Here are some more reasons why these days are the best.

Mornings

The kids will still be up at 6am but they have a surplus of new, lusted-for toys to play with so you can snooze on the sofa and occasionally break open an eye to throw batteries at them. Basically a lie in.

Breakfast

Quality Streets and trifle.

Pace

Having spent the last fortnight in a frenzy of social events and school nativities, you can luxuriate in endless empty hours.

‘What shall we do today?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Watch a film?’

‘Sounds good’

Pressure Is Off

The emotional labour is done and the weight of expectations have lifted. You’ve opened your presents and they’re actually quite nice/useful/thoughtful. The kids are lolling or building Lego sets or nosing through books. The hype has peaked. The relief is palpable.

Food

Bubble and Squeak. Cold bread sauce. Pork pies. Slabs of cheese everyone was too full to eat on Christmas Day. Popping cold pigs in blankets like they’re grapes. So darn good.

The ‘Bit of Fresh Air’

A nice round walk. The last outing for the Christmas jumpers. A hearty ‘Good afternoon’ to fellow survivors with the last wafts of goodwill.

Children

They are indulged and funny and surprisingly good at Charades and look endearing in novelty jumpers and wonky paper crowns and curl up on your lap and cover your face with chocolate kisses and breathy disbelief that ‘Santa’s been’.

If Christmas Day is for them, these days are for you.

Charades. Chocolate. Champagne.

Day 6

Christmas Day!

(For us, for various reasons, we are having Christmas Day on Christmas Eve)

Alex was wide awake and whinging and thrashing around until 1.30am when he let out a series of enormous farts and fell asleep. William comes in at 5am and hops about.

We leave Alex asleep and TWW and I are go down with a spellbound William. A careful, reverential stillness settles as he marvels at the chewed carrot and the pile of presents.

Alex eventually awakes and the two boys go hell for leather and tear in to presents. Alex’s favourite is some Primark gloves and William goes bananas for a Lego set from a friend.

Andrew spends the morning assembling his mega speaker that I got him and I read my excellent book a friend gave me.

The boys play, TWW tinkers and I read until we eat toad in the hole with roasties and cabbage as their requested Christmas meal.

We load everything in to the car and head for Stratford upon Avon to the in-laws.

Two miles out and after an hour and a half of ‘your a stupid worm’ bickering, Alex chunders. A blast of Kinder Egg and batter.

We arrive in a flurry of saturated car seats and kids who need to be hosed down. Glamour.

But soon the kids are asleep and we all have a glass of something and some good food and an early night and we get to have Christmas Day: 2 tomorrow.

Happy Christmas, one and all!

Day 5

For various reasons, we are having a dry-run Christmas Day on 24th so we had to pretend today was Christmas Eve and then entangle everyone we bumped it to in our web of lies. So the plan for the day was to keep on the DL and watch a lot of telly.

Mum and dad left in the morning but not before my devine mother gifted us both a lay-in- glory be!

Then I needed horizons and some fresh air so we zipped out to Gorlestone.

Funnily enough, there weren’t many people on the beach…but it was very good for the spirits.

Then we came home and mooched about and had a few people drop by and we diddled about before doing Santa Admin: carrot, milk and a jam tart because ‘Santa must get sick of mince pies’ and absolutely nothing to do with the fact we had none in the house.

As soon as the boys were asleep, Alex woke up. Nothing like trying to calmly get a child back to sleep whilst doing a panicked mental inventory of ALL THE WRAPPING you have to do still. Off and on, it took until 1.30am to get Alex to sleep which got Christmas Day: Mark One off to a flying start.

Yaaaaaaaaaawn.