Tag Archives: Christmas disasters

The real Christmas

 

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Oh Christmas comes but once a year,

And every house is filled with cheer.

But all I know is that I am shattered,

And my dirty old house is tired and tattered.

I’ve drunk the gin and all the wine,

And it’s not even breakfast time!

I’ve drunk the vodka and the port

And Christmas pudding? Abort! Abort!

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The dog has eaten all the bacon,

My wine drenched body is really achin’.

And now I’ve drunk the whisky too,

And cooked mince pies up as a stew.

The kids have stolen all the presents,

The dog has killed the local pheasants.

The sherry, well it came in handy,

I washed it down with a small brandy.

It turns out Santa is a drunk

I found him sleeping in Monty’s bunk

Old Granddad drank up all the hooch

and then he tried to have a smooch,

With Booby’s mother from next door,

And she turned out to be a …

Now I’m sitting on the ward,

Pulling crackers, looking bored.

The nurse says I’ll go home tomorrow ,

A happy face I’ll need to borrow.

But never mind it’s Boxing day,

And all that happiness – has gone away!

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A bit of a rant but is it really just me who feels this way?

Dear Emma,

Well, we’re crashing towards Christmas and it’s all set to be the season of discontent round here. I mean let’s face it, this month is the ultimate test of your parenting abilities or lack thereof.

And who the hell invented Christingle anyway, which in this family starts with the children pilfering any spare change before fighting over the candle and is followed by setting light to the kid in front’s hair with the flame before a quick trip to casualty after one of them has poked the other in the eye with the cocktail stick. And whoever thought playing “orange” bowling whilst waiting in A&E was going to be a good idea. What Christian message can I possibly extract from all that?untitled (42)

But that was last year and this month I surpassed myself by forgetting the service altogether and then collaborating with my beloved and coming up with an excessively elaborate lie about why we hadn’t taken them to the service.  You know when you’re pretend crying and faking a candle wax allergy, you may have taken things too far!

And then this week there’s:

  •  The first of the nativity plays (cue my child being the only child with, dare I admit it, a grubby tea towel on his head amidst the other bespoke nativity costumes but at least I didn’t, like previous years, induce a febrile convulsion in my child by over heating them in a sheep costume. And yes I say “first of the nativity plays” because I’ve got a total of 4 performances to sit through which is more than any parent should have to endure).
  • Christmas hat day (am I really going to be judged on my ability to read the school newsletter and digest this gem of a pain in the arse activity).
  • The school disco (oh that’s only 6 trips to the school in one day then as all my children have different disco slots and don’t get me started on the clothes).
  • The “take a home made decoration to school day” (why can’t they make that in school – I’m beginning to get hysterical!).
  • The make a Boomerang and a Didgeridoo day. Just don’t ask.
  • School open day (a complete cop out on the school’s part, when any self respecting parent is made to smile desperately at 22 meaningless school books and wonder why they can’t just give us an end of term report instead – that’s 45 minutes of my life I’ll never get back!)

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And how is it that, with only 10 days left of this long and agonising term, I’ve only just realised that my daughter doesn’t have any shoes, school socks or shirts and that my middle son has been wearing his sisters trousers to school for the last 10 weeks!

And they call this the season of good will and wonder why most mothers secretly slip into a gin bottle at the first reasonable opportunity. Bring back Scrooge – all is forgiven! Surely next week will be easier?

Christmas gifts

Seasonal humiliation and festive cock ups!

Oh Emma, with just days to go until Christmas, I’ve excelled myself when it comes to seasonal humiliation and festive cock ups.

How not to make friends.

It started a week ago with an unreasonable urge to introduce myself to the parent of one of child 3’s new classmates when we bumped into him at the swimming pool. Before I could stop myself and instead of saying hello, I found myself commenting on the size of his package and the style of his pants. It just popped out, so to speak, before my brain could engaged. And there is no amount of digging that can get you out that stellar awkward moment.

Christmas gifts

I may have got my measurements wrong!

That on its own might not have been too bad for my reputation but then I found myself with another uncontrollable urge to stroke the headmistress in the middle of the local church service (well she did have a delightfully fluffy sweater on) and then I accidently said “shit” into the church microphone and watched the shocked congregation as my words echoed their way up to the alter. I’m ashamed to admit it’s not the first time I’ve found myself stroking a stranger and with the season of good will upon us, I am now officially the village weirdo.

A bit of a do.

I thought I’d make amends by hosting a sophisticated soirée for the local folk. But apparently, it’s not enough to just think about inviting people, you do actually have to invite them and ideally before the event is due to take place. Now I have 67 mince pies and several gallons of mulled wine to single handedly get through but at least I have a clean house. And of the few guests I did remember to invite, I managed to suggest to my neighbour that my friend, (former teacher and fellow guest ) had taken her teenage son on holiday.  It’s so not what I meant if only she had waited for me to explain.

Christmas disasters

Maths and numbers were never my strong point.

To top it all, when I went to bed, I  found that i’d only put make up on the left side of my face and no the right. I guess that is seasonal schizophrenia for you.

The perfect Christmas Gift.

I thought at least I was on top of the Christmas present thing with an online order heading my way. But it appears I’ve been buying for the Little People. The toy gun (I know – not PC) I bought for child 2 arrived through the post and turned out to be no bigger than my finger nail and the journal I bought for my dad is the size of my thumb. As for the rest of the presents they seem to be some where out there in the Ether along with my spirit of Christmas.

So let us charge our virtual glasses dear Emma and all you mothers out there and brace ourselves for the inevitable disaster that is a family Christmas and look forward to abnormal service being resumed in January.

Happy Christmas to you all and a mayhem free New Year!