What a difference a day makes. The decorations, which were magical and exciting a few short days ago, are now a bit of a nuisance and I feel like it is a mammoth task to switch on all the fairy lights every morning and off again before I go to bed. The candles dotted all over the kitchen and in the sitting room which filled the rooms with lovely smells of Christmas cookies and spices likewise. And the fridge which is full of cold cuts, pickles and coleslaw is my enemy. The tubs of Pringles stockpiled are now taunting me, and it's very tempting to open up the cupboards and let the kids eat it all, not saving any for unexpected visitors who don't come anyway. I think it is time for a big clear out, because it's just all too tempting. I have to climb back onto the Slimming World wagon, because I cannot afford to put on another four pounds next week! The gorgeous Christmas crockery which seemed such a good idea when I bought it, is nothing but a pain in the bum, and I am wondering whether maybe I should not bother with it in the future. It just takes up so much storage space, lots of shifting around, finding space for it in the kitchen and taking the everyday stuff to store away in the laundry room cupboards. And the beautiful matching serving dishes are impossible to store anywhere other than in their boxes (which also have to be kept somewhere for when I put it all away.) There is so much shifting and faffing, I think life could be so much simpler if only I didn't try to make it so special. Christmas dinner was really lovely, but it was like a military operation, and with only the same number of people we used to cook for every other weekend when all the kids came for Sunday dinner. And every year, I say that next year will be different, but it never is, and this year seemed to be so much more difficult. Fortunately the kids don't seem to notice or remember the anxieties and struggles and are left with mainly happy memories that they look back on and discuss excitedly each year in the lead up to Christmas.
When our families first merged (the kids called each other their patchwork, short for patchwork brother /sister//father etc), the memories they discussed, of holidays and christmases were always pre patchwork. Now after nearly 9 years of being forced together, their memories are shared and they all chip in. And one of the biggest moans which they use to hate and complain about so much and with great gusto was having to sit on the stairs and wait until we had checked that everything was ready, before being allowed downstairs on Christmas morning. But this year, H who spent his first ever Christmas Eve away from home, was determined that he was going to arrive early enough on Christmas morning to see the girls sitting on the stairs. And this boy, who is never on time for anything, did actually make it, and the torture of his childhood has become part of the family tradition that he didn't want to miss out on. Also arriving as an adult on the big day, he was delighted not to have to sit on the stairs himself, and probably witnessing the torture of his younger sisters gave him additional pleasure.
An old friend told a lovely story of sneaking downstairs as a little boy, in the dark one Christmas morning. He fumbled around, feeling the presents left under the tree. It was all going well, until he stood before a large wrapped object, and using his hands, he made out what he thought were two large antlers at the top. He screamed his head off, waking up the whole house, shouting that Santa had left Rudolf under the tree. So easy to mistake Chopper handlebars for antlers in the dark!
This year, some of our traditions were forgotten - we made reindeer food, with magical golden fairy dust, but it was still in the fruit bowl on Christmas morning. And we forgot to leave a glass of Baileys and a mince pie for the big man. But we still had the Christmas Eve Box, and played a word game which Santa had left for us, along with face packs and new pyjamas and snacks for all.
L hunted high and low for the Night Before Christmas book which I have read to her every Christmas Eve for the last 14 years but it was nowhere to be seen, so we made do, and she found the poem online and I read it to her as she snuggled down under her bedsheets with the unicorn eye mask on her head and her new tartan pyjamas. And even though there wasn't the usual sneaking around with sacks and stockings that has been necessary previously, we still didn't get into bed until gone 1am, and when we did, we slept the sleep of the dead, so exhausted by the preparations and shenanigans that we have brought on ourselves.
T has been traumatised throughout the holiday period by having to work every day, and has been so exhausted that she has virtually fallen asleep every evening on her ride home from work. Christmas has been a big disappointment to her because she has had to take every shift available to her, waitressing at the Spinney Hill. But it has done her a lot of good, and she will be so glad when her wages go into her bank account. Her bedroom looks like she has never been away, but instead of smelling like a donkey sanctuary, it now smells of freesias and scented meadows, as she has discovered febreez.
We had a great Christmas, and it was fabulous to have our family back together again, all sitting together around the dining table, pulling crackers and stuffing their faces. And the table presents this year, which I had spent hours crocheting were these fetching hats, most of which fitted. I hope you all had the Christmas that you wanted. On reflection, mine was lovely, and I wouldn't change a thing.
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