I love him dearly, and he is great in a crisis, knows the right thing to say if I am upset or worried, and is excellent at choosing Christmas presents, but Mr C is worse than useless at preparing for social occasions. I am not allowed to be too critical (and have probably already overstepped the mark), so will just present the facts and enable you to deliver your own verdict.
It has been a very enjoyable, although largely exhausting week. It started well, with lots of lists in preparation for the arrival of our visitors from France on Wednesday, and the Crafternoon on Sunday. My lovely little Den, my own personal lady cave (or is that something rude?) is always transformed at this time of year, as it is filled with presents ready to be sent off to Santa. They all have to be wrapped immediately, to ensure that they are not discovered. Although the Den is out of bounds, and entry is strictly prohibited, the temptation is just too great for the kids to resist. They are also all really affronted that I should have a room that is just my domain. I have explained that they all have their own bedrooms, where they can listen to their music and be surrounded by their stuff, whereas I have to share mine with Mr C, but they still think that they are missing out on something really big. (Before you ask, Mr C's Mondeo is his domain).
On the theme of missing out, T is once again talking about becoming a vegetarian like her younger sister L. T gets really frustrated that L has her own veggie products in the freezer, and there is serious Southern Fried Nugget envy. I have explained that a portion consists of 3 or 4 nuggets, thinking that this might put her off, but she is adamant that being vegetarian is something she is very serious about. I see straight through her ethical high ground however. I know it's just about the nuggets.
So my Den, is swamped with presents and wrapping paper, and tissue paper and bows, as well as all of the craft stuff I have been collecting over the past few weeks. There is paint, glue, a mountain of washi tape, sequins, glitter, card, string, ribbons, buttons and stickers. And it all needed clearing and sorting out before the guests arrived and the crafternoon. And I also needed to get the Christmas decorations boxes out from their various hiding places all over the house, and a few but not all put up before Sunday. And the table needed extending so we could fit lots of crafters around it, and soup and mince pies and cookies needed to be made so they didn't fade away, and a a birthday banquet was required for Mr C for Thursday night. And the bedsheets all needed changing and the rooms tidying up. I am having a nosebleed just remembering it all.
Mr C stomped around a lot, muttering about nobody caring whether rooms were tidy, or if there were red pom poms and Sharpie pens available. Let me interpret -this means that he doesn't want to be involved in any type of activity and should be left alone to watch Border Force Isle of Man, or whatever spinoff is currently catching his eye.
The visitors came, and we had a fantastic time with them, they are so lovely and kind, and everyone is so much nicer to each other when they are around, it was a complete joy. And we remembered lots of French words that we didn't even know we knew (and Mr C invented many more French words, or just adapted English ones to fill in the gaps), and our friends were very patient with us, and we actually started to believe that we could speak French. In Morrisons, I even said "pardon" to a lady who bumped into me with a trolley. Virtually fluent, as I say. We were very sad when they left, and will be planning a return tour very soon. They live near Lyon - I think they may have drawn the short straw with us in Northampton!
And then the preparations began for the Crafternoon, and I tried so hard not to be a teacher, but I just couldn't break the habits of a lifetime. I made little labels, and had a separate table for messy crafts, and lots of examples for people to copy. I did massively overcomplicate, and it would have been just as enjoyable, had I just had a table for making Christmas cards, and another for decorations. But I have learnt a lot of lessons from it - and hope that I can do another one next year, but maybe a simpler version.
And while I cooked and cleaned and arranged and organised in preparation for the grand event, Mr C watched rugby in the sitting room, stretching his legs between games by walking into the kitchen to tell me that nobody cared if there was ribbon to match the tissue paper, or what they could use to mix the paint. And when I told him I had so much to do, he said he would get up early in the morning and do it all, before returning to the rugby watching equivalent of a decathlon. So I wrote him a very comprehensive list (it looked like a long list, but it was just very specific eg put the red table in the sitting room, in-between the footstool and the door). It probably took me longer to write the tasks than to do them. And when I woke up at 8am (having taken the last batch of mince pies out of the oven at 1am, 7 hours earlier), he presented me with the list, and pronounced that he had done it all. I went through the list - the red table was in the wrong place, he hadn't put the decorations up because he couldn't find the hooks (which I had asked him to get when we were in the shop the day before, but he said we already had some), the list said clear out and clean the fridge. I looked in the fridge - he hadn't done it. He said there was nothing to clear out. Apart from the trifles with a use by date of 20th Nov, festering unopened bags of spinach, old yoghurts and liquified cucumbers. Oh yes! And it went on and on. I saw a meme today on Facebook which said "my husband calls it 'nagging'. I call it "listen to me the first time!" However, he had emptied the rubbish and recycling bins. Very small mercies?
And then his friend visiting from Canada called round unexpectedly (they really think I was born yesterday!), and they had to sit down and watch the boxing, so he couldn't finish the jobs he hadn't even started. Later on Sunday, during the Crafternoon, my 3 year old great niece told him that it was dark in the bathroom and she needed to use the toilet. Bless him, he had to scrabble about looking for a new bulb and then faff about in the dark, standing on the stepladder trying to fit it. I did suggest that it might have been easier to have done it in the daylight before the boxing match, but he just growled. Rude!
I was very impressed with my great niece and her ability to get things done. I could learn a lot from her, and I might just give up with writing lists which are completely ineffective, and instead hire a three year old foreperson to sort him out! And I might also hire a couple of smiley French ladies to make my life much easier and my family kinder.
Moaning aside, I have had such a lovely few days, and I have really enjoyed having a houseful. I have been tidying up today, putting everything away and trying to get rid of the avalanche of glitter, and then reminding myself that it's nearly Christmas, and nobody cares about a bit of glitter at Christmas! The hatchet is buried, and we are back to normal, although not for long, as it's only a matter of weeks before the house will be full once more. I can't wait!
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