The run up to christmas

15 Dec

Its that time of year again, it crept up too quickly, I’m sure last week I was filling up the paddling pool in the garden for the wild children.  Every year I vow to be organised, just for once I want to be THAT person that puts the fear of god into people by being the first person to send a Christmas card to them, I have some seriously organised friends, the wonderful ones that send birthday cards on time and Easter ones and moving home ones, I’ve moved house so many times recently I wouldn’t have blamed anyone for photocopying the original moving home card and just doling out a copy each time, times are hard I get that! I realise that I’m not organised in the card sending department, but this year I have checked the final posting day (one better than last year) AND I’ve bought the cards, whether or not anyone will get a card before next Christmas is another thing.  I feel like I’ve totally achieved something when I post it in a letter box, I feel like high fiving myself and doing a glory lap round the post box to victorious music playing and confetti and glitter streaming down from above, wait sorry got carried away, back to the serious business of Christmas.

On the theme of vowing to be more organised, we decided to get the kids presents relatively early.  The danger of this is that they grow bored of the character that you bought every item of- in our case fireman Sam, so over the past few weeks I have cunningly been sky plussing fireman Sam episodes and putting them on at every opportunity, Ryan the naughty 4 year old has worked out how to use the computer and has found a fireman Sam shopping page and every few minutes I hear the familiar ‘can I ‘ave it mummy’ I take a deep breath before I view the latest must have item and say a silent thank you when I see his finger jousting at the screen displaying what is tucked away upstairs.  We did have a small breach of the Christmas present stash, I was alerted to this fact when Ryan appeared beaming from ear to ear,  rather than complimenting Ryan on his lovely smile, my instant thought was one of fear and a questioning as to what deed he had done.  He produces a present, my eyeballs almost fall out of my head and then we embark on a ridiculous tom and Jerry chase around the kitchen and the living room, whilst chasing him I am trying to think of an excuse as to who the present could possibly belong to.  I finally manage to get him and wrestle the present from his clutches, he then asks who the present is for, err right  ‘well Ryan the present is for the poor children’ phew I did well, I’m just removing myself from the tom and jerry catch scene smiling and commending myself on my quick thinking, ‘Mummy, who are the poor children, where do they live, can I see them’ oh gosh, now I’ve opened up the can of worms.  I find myself describing a scene from Annie, where all the beds are lined up and the girls have nothing etc etc. Hoping the curiosity has been satisfied I once again begin my retreat, ‘Mummy, can I speak to the poor children’ ‘No darling they don’t have phones’ ‘Can I go to their houses’ ‘No darling they don’t have their own houses’ it continues on and we go into their clothes and their messy hair and shoes.  I need to stop this conversation before he thinks we live in Dickens times.  The conversation is bought nicely to an end by Ryan’s sister who has kindly undecorated the Christmas tree and is wearing all manner of decorations, cue another tom and jerry scene.

Ryan has recently started school after a long process of appeals and my poor facebook friends being subjected to my constant whingeing about him not having a school place, I bet they all praised the Lord when I announced that finally my foot stomping, screeching and sob storying had gotten him a place.  Bear with me this story does go somewhere.  We go and view the school and its lovely and fine and Ryan is given a start date.  When he arrives for his first day, unfortunately his eczema has flared up rather nastily on his face.  He looks like an abused child and its awful and the more you try to explain to the teacher the more you look guilty.  For the first few days I stand alone in the playground and then a few of the mums begin to saunter over to get the goss, which is fine, I can deal.  One afternoon I am standing in a small group of above said mums and the children begin filing out of the classroom.  Ryan is one of the first out, I’m not sure if this is engineered by the poor exhausted looking teacher who cannot bear to look at him for another second or just his eagerness to look at his beautiful mummy.  I stay and listen to one of the group conversations and have a little laugh to myself, really, if picking the right pair of Uggs is all you have to worry about then I suggest you read a book or something.  Ryan is tugging at my sleeve and really wanting my attention, the conversation stops and I turn my attention to Ryan who points at one of the children in the group and rather loudly says ‘Mummy is that one of the poor children’  my smile freezes on my face I notice the mum put a protective pair of hands on the prospective ‘poor’ child, I stupidly ask Ryan why he asked that, he then points down to the shoes and proceeds to inform me and the group that he must be a poor child because the shoes are ruined and dirty and have holes in them.  Not content with this, he then turns to another poor child and informs me that this child must also be a poor child because he has ‘bad hair like a girl’.  I make my excuses and run dragging my accuser away.  I don’t think he will be getting any party invitations any time soon and I don’t think I will be invited to the cosy ‘mums get together’ which was billed in the email as , ‘ an evening where we can get together, get to know each other,  let our hair down and have adult talk’  I don’t think my sort of adult talk would be acceptable in this group, they didn’t even know what fifty shade of grey was, I hope they don’t ask me to tell them as I haven’t read it.  I must be in the 1% of women that haven’t read it.  I read the first 50 pages and quite frankly got bored, been there got the t-shirt etc, in fact it was the t-shirt I used to….must stop!!

The presents have been bought- not wrapped but bought, the cards are waving at me from the top of my dishwasher, what else have I forgotten?? Oh the actual day with the food and crap that goes with it.  I thought about who to invite, last year we invited some people who would’ve otherwise been alone and some family and it was lovely.  This year these people are no longer lonely as they no have boyfriends/girlfriends which is fab news, this leaves family….the only member of our immediate family on both sides that we are speaking to is my mum and she is on thin ice!! But it’s our first Christmas in our new home and minus a few tragedies and heartaches we aim to have a good time, a personal goal of mine is not to screech at my mother who very kindly informed me today that she would rather have a present than my Christmas dinner!

I wrap (ha ha  did you like that one) this rather not very funny and up to my usual standard blog up by wishing you all a very merry Christmas.  I for one will very much be looking forward to waving this year goodbye- well that’s if we make it to Christmas, we may all be wiped out just before it, what a bloody waste I’ve bought presents and by that point I may have actually sent cards, hang on that’s a perfect excuse for not sending the cards, ‘so sorry I thought we were all going to be mind controlled by the things I’ve seen on Stargate sg1 so I spent my time usefully by watching the episodes so I know what to expect and then maybe I can educate and become a leader of our new population’. I knew I should’ve been made a queen.  Goodbye to a horrid year, for those that know me personally can relate to my eagerness to start afresh and I know that some of my friends will also share the same desire having lost loved ones.


Much Love x


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