A very M-G Christmas

And so that was Christmas.

I do love a good festive occasion. I think I’ve mentioned that before. I love a spot of carol singing too – I know I’ve mentioned that. I love writing Christmas cards to people I never see with promises to catch up in the new year. I hand write every card, each with an individual sentiment tailored to the recipient. I seal each envelope with a Christmas-themed sticker. These things thrill me.

I am fully aware of how this is reading to you right now. I know the picture you’re forming. But I can’t help myself.

The thing about this kind of dedication to the festive spirit is that two kids leave you with fuck all time. One can’t be embracing the writing of cards with such enthusiasm when there are little mouths just begging to be fed and little bums in dire need of a bath.

So maybe, this year, some of the individually tailored sentiments were actually the same but written in a different sequence. Note to family and friends; don’t compare cards. It’s rude.

One year, I sent my Christmas cards out on NOVEMBER 18^th. And then I tapped my foot impatiently at the letterbox each day for the next month waiting for my reciprocal piece of holiday cheer. I was quietly shocked that some cards arrived on the 24^th of December. Some people liked to live on the edge, I thought. And some people don’t realise that their card will only be on display for a week at best before it’s relegated to the recycling bin. Craziness, I thought.

This year, my cards didn’t make it out by November 18^th. Some didn’t make it out by December 18^th. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The actual celebration of Christmas Day is equally thrilling for me. This year, we celebrated as the Family M-G. Not another soul did we see that day. Well, no, that’s not true, I saw the guy at the bottle shop when I went for a beer run. But apart from him, it was just we four.

Both children deemed it necessary to start the festivities at 5am on Christmas morning. I did not feel terribly merry. And bright? No. Not so much.

But Christmas through a child’s eyes is contagious and so as we followed LD up the stairs to check if Santa had been, the fog of exhaustion slowly lifted.

A blur of gift opening followed. This year was the first that LD really hooked into the idea of Santa. He was pretty stoked with the first three gifts he opened and was happily playing with them but there were so many more still waiting in his stocking and B and I impatiently urged him to keep unwrapping. Unfortunately, what this did was make the opening of the gifts the highlight rather than the gift itself. By 10am, LD had run out of gifts to open (staggered throughout the morning – he did not have five solid hours worth of gifts to unwrap) but by then, it was too late and the monster had been created. The present frenzy was suddenly at an end and LD was now a junkie looking for his next festive foil-wrapped hit.

Ironically, he returned to two of those first three gifts and played with them all day long. A pair of blow up Buzz Lightyear wings and a wrist ‘laser’ also from the Buzz franchise. Total cost: less than thirty bucks. Next year, when I spend just thirty bucks on Christmas presents, he’ll piss and moan about the distinct lack of gifts to open. And their cheapness.

Zee, in typical baby fashion, delighted in the wrapping paper and just generally being in on the action of his older brother’s present-opening rampage.

Late morning, preparing the roast turkey lunch, I spoke to myself quietly.

“What was that?” asked B.

“Hmmm?” I replied, vaguely.

It wouldn’t have been in keeping with the holiday cheer to admit that what I actually said was, “I can’t be bothered.”

Later, as I set the Christmas feast on the table, it occurred to me that there was nothing in the lunch that LD would eat. Turkey, roast potatoes and pumpkin, green beans and peas, gravy. Nope. Mr. Fussy would deem none of that to his liking. This is the child who once licked chocolate and deemed it, “Not tasty” so I can’t really say I wasn’t warned.

Out of his mind with fatigue and probably starving hungry, LD began to whine about wanting someone to pop the Christmas cracker with him. We told him no, he had to wait until we were all ready and seated at the table. So he just popped it himself.

After (watching everyone else eat) lunch, we put something Christmassy on television and LD promptly fell asleep sitting up. Of course, we took photos and made fun of him. It was great.

Finally putting the sleep-resisting Zee down for a nap, I was ready to assume the position. The foetal position, that is.

What is it about Christmas Day that kicks the fuck out of you?

I’m glad I have a full year to recover. And for Christmas 2011, I think I’ll simplify wherever possible. Fewer gifts, maybe a serious cull of the Christmas card list.

But I do have the most darling idea for the place settings………

RMTT #16/ Friday Faves Christmas Combo!

Last night, Aunty Tor, a Family M-G fave, stopped by for a glass (or three) of Christmas cheer. We drank pink bubbles, exchanged gifts and drank more pink bubbles and then we laughed at YouTube clips of people being completely embarrassing or completely talented. It was ace.

But it meant Random Mumma Thoughts did not happen. It’s a busy time of year and maybe you didn’t even notice. But I’m choosing to believe that you did notice, that last night just wasn’t the same without RMTT.

And then, of course, today, I needed to write a Friday Faves.

Christmas Eve, huh? Yeah, I don’t have time for all this writing pressure.

So here’s my ingenious plan. I’ve rolled the two into one fabulous Christmas Combo!

Firstly, a Christmassy RMTT #16

–         Yesterday, I turned the house upside down looking for a card I had written for Aunty Tor some weeks earlier. I mean, I turned the place UPSIDE DOWN. I couldn’t find it anywhere. I was so, so fucking annoyed. It had been on my writing desk, in the same spot, for WEEKS! And now, GONE! It wasn’t until I was through my first glass of pink bubbles that I started to get over my frustration. Today, I find it. I find the card sitting on top of my computer. And I just feel very strongly that I checked there. THREE TIMES. If the card had a throat, I would definitely have punched it.

–         I have not wrapped the presents yet. And B has to put up the trampoline tonight. Relaxing Christmas Eve? Sure, why not? It’ll be fun. I love wrapping presents and B is a gun at putting things together….. We may need beer.

–         The reason I haven’t wrapped the presents which I have had sitting in my cupboard since approximately August is because….I can’t remember. But tonight seems as good a time as any.

–         The reason B hasn’t put up the trampoline yet is because it’s big and I felt the kids might get suspicious about the big fucking trampoline in the back yard.

–         This Christmas, the M-Gs are celebrating with four people and four people only. That’s right. We have forsaken all others and are just doing our own little family Christmas. We love our extended families, of course we do, but holy relaxation, it’ll be nice not to have to go anywhere or see anyone.

–         Downside – I have to cook.

–         Upside – I can reserve the crunchiest roasted potatoes for myself.

–         Threatening that Santa won’t bring presents as a way of ensuring good behaviour is a dismal failure. It’s a hollow threat. I know it and my three-and-a-half-year-old sure as hell knows it. What are we going to do? Cancel Christmas? Missing out on watching the kids open the obscene amount of presents ‘Santa’ brought them would just ruin our day. But even so, we pushed the ‘No Santa’ line right up until LD’s bedtime. He was breaking new naughtiness records all day long in what can only be viewed as a big ‘FUCK YOU!’ to the fat guy but I think the Santa thing did get LD (LittleDemon) to sleep more quickly than usual.

–         Zee has been an angel and I’m tempted to give him all of LD’s presents.

–         No matter how bad my day was or how heinous my children’s behaviour has been, watching them drift into slumber just about stops my heart. It is a gift. That moment is a gift. And it never gets old.

–         I love Christmas carols. No, really, I love them. I’m listening to Sinatra sing the classics as I type.

–         I love Christmas. I really do.

–         My Christmas tree is already dead. It’s been dead for a least a week. It’s so dry the needles just crumble to dust if you touch them. What a rip.

–         I think I might buy a big fuck-off plastic tree at the Boxing Day sales.

–         What is it about Christmas and just being compelled to eat shit constantly? I am a walking box of chocolates right now.

–         And also, some chilli flavoured potato chips… 

–         The gym is closed for the next four days.

–         NOT. MY. FAULT.

And now, onto Friday Faves. And at this time of maximumly extreme consumerism, I’m not going to show you any ‘stuff’ – the last thing any of us needs is to look at more things we could possibly buy.

Instead, I want to share a favourite Christmas photo.

It’s me, circa…I don’t know, maybe 1985? It makes me laugh. And it takes me right there. Our family Christmases were epic. At least, I thought so. My parents – namely, my mum – put on an awesome Christmas show.

I would so love to recreate that magic for my own family.

Merry Christmas to you and yours. Be safe and if necessary, be drunk.

The Little Mumma loves you! 

See you in a couple of days.

The Christmas Truth

I love my kids. Really, I do. But fuck me dead if they didn’t almost kill the tree within 48 hours of it going up.

Witness the destruction.

Increasingly denuded tree – the work of a hungry dragon, apparently.

Completely denuded baubles – LD explained to me he was just playing with his balls. Oookay.

Within three days, they had defeated me. That night, B and I moved the damned tree.

The tree with almost no decorations from kid-reach down.

The tree that cost me a lazy 50 bucks just because it is real and smells good.

The tree that was dying before we ever strapped it to the roof of our car.

It does smell mighty good though.

So the tree is at the front door. Downstairs and safely away from the main living action which is located upstairs (stupid  topsy-turvy house). The expensive dead tree is downstairs and away from dragons and little boys who play with their balls – little boys who can but stand at the top of the staircase, hands clutching the safety gate that seeks to deny them, eyes gazing longingly at the splendid dead tree below.   

click image for larger view

RMTT #12

Happy Thursday, peeps! It’s been a super-rainy day here which I’m actually loving after the hot days we’ve had. Where in the world has 25 degree days all year round? That’s where I want to live.

Hang on! Weather chit-chat? Oh no, not on The Little Mumma. Let’s talk randomness instead.

 

1. Accidental Thievery

We’d been shopping and things were slowly descending into madness as they are wont to do when you have two small boys in a pram. I was out of “shut them up snacks” and all other tricks had been equally exhausted. It was time to go. I hot-footed it back to the car pushing two kind of heavy kids who felt considerably heavier given the whining and really flat tyres the pram was sporting. Sooo, you can imagine my dismay at discovering that LD had acquired a book from the last store we’d been to. And I had waltzed out of the (mega chain-)store with absolutely zero knowledge of our Freddy Five Fingers discount. Serious conundrum. Finally back to the car and pram unpacking underway – could a reasonable person expect me to to go back and return the stolen goods? With two kids who were over it at least 30 minutes ago? I didn’t go back. But I do have plans to return the book at a later date. Unless I donate it to those Christmas Wishing Trees that give presents to under-privileged children. Whaddya think? Should I play accidental Robin Hood?

 

2. Things that make you go ‘hmmm’

During the infamous ‘accidental thievery’ shopping trip, Shopping Centre Santa referred to LD as ‘Princess’ – not convinced LD didn’t love it.

 

3. Hair Woes – AGAIN!

I had it cut. And for a minute, I thought it was uber-funky. Now I’m back to woe. And little bits of hair that won’t go back in my obligatory ponytail. Fucking!

 

4. Risky photo pay off

My notoriously light sleeper, Zee, had the sweetest little sleeping smoosh face and I desperately wanted to take a photo. I was just checking in on him as I headed to bed so the idea of disturbing him was underwhelming. But I did it anyway. And not a peep! But given the adorability factor of this shot, I reckon waking him would have been worth it.

 

5. The writing is on the wall…

Smashed my favourite glass for drinking coke. I think that’s called a sign.

 

6. Over Hurl

Oh my goodness, could it really be true? Has Zee finally grown out of his crazy refluxy chucking stage? No, no, I can’t talk about it for fear of the jinx. Stop. I never wrote this.

 

6. Conversations with the 3-year-old

Little Mumma: LD, please stop that. I don’t like it when you pinch my arm

LD: But Mumma, it’s not pinching. It’s the tree (indicates my arm) and it’s the dinosaur (indicates his pinching fingers)

Oh well, in that case…….

 

Random Fact: This time last year, B and I were just arriving at the hospital. Almost ten hours later, Zee came into the world. And not a moment too soon……

Little donut dunked

Here’s my littlest love, Zee, performing on God’s (actual) stage. We had him baptised yesterday. Neither B or I are religious at all and we don’t go to church but both of us agreed we were uncomfortable with the idea of our kids not being christened. Something about Catholic guilt, I imagine.

The church bit went smoothly enough. My favourite part was probably B miming to LD how if he kept pulling on the tablecloth underneath some very, very big candles, the whole place was going to go up in flames. Then, the reception was spent surrounded by the best people we know. Nice.

I came away from the day with a couple of important revelations.

1. I love planning an event but my need for it to be perfect means I never end up enjoying it. At the reception, looking around at my guests eating their lunch, drinking and laughing and generally doing all the things I had hoped they would, I started to have a quiet little breakdown. So anxious had I become, I ate all of three bites of my own meal. And then, when we finally got home, exhausted and hungry, all I could think about was that fucking chicken parmigiana.

2. I don’t like myself with a spray tan. Well, no, I like my body with a spray tan but a brown face freaks me out. I feel like that scary old neighbour lady from ‘There’s Something About Mary‘.

 

Note to self: next big event – yes to Valium, no to spray tan.

 

A dear friend, photographer Steve Young, took snaps for us. Highlight?