You may have seen my Christmas-themed blog posts.
Of course there was the only Christmas gift guide you'll ever need; and over on Babycentre, a helpful list of things you can argue about with your significant other (in case you'd run out of ideas) and a post about why Father Christmas is a fat, glory-stealing b*stard.
So yes, I know it's coming. And yet with Christmas rapidly approaching (I don't want to worry you but IT'S TOMORROW PEOPLE) I'm finding it hard to get spirit of it this year. I've not taken a single photograph of our tree, beautifully lit up with fairy lights and decorated in a tasteful and understated way (ha, ha) or of the Whingelets looking arty and festive for Instagram which I believe is some kind of blogger sin. I've done the bare minimum when it comes to present buying (no Christmas Eve boxes here), I've not done any Christmas crafting (that's just the sane choice though) and I haven't even sent Christmas cards.
I'm trying to pick up my game a bit; I've enforced Christmas jumper wearing on the children, we've been to the Kingdom of the Elves, and we've seen Father Christmas. I've sunk a lot of Baileys.
Anyway rather than sing carols by firelight and try to fill myself with festive cheer I'm going to give you my top ten reasons why Christmas is a big glittery pain in the arse.
1) Advent calendars
Teaching kids to be ungrateful and demanding as soon as they wake up; even the small one does a good line in pointing and whining. Also inspires the 'Is it Christmas yet?' conversation we've had every day since the big one's birthday in mid-November.
2) Putting the tree up
Firstly it means moving the furniture about (and then hoovering underneath said furniture. Ugh) and secondly, even though I put the lights and decorations away properly every year, it still takes bloody ages and there are bits of tree and glitter all over the floor.
3) Glitter, glitter, everywhere
Actually this one deserves its own point. I don't even know where it comes from and it seems impossible to get rid of. It'll still be hanging around next Christmas.
That lovely period where preschool and toddler groups are off, and everywhere is rammed. Daddy is off work and while the two of us are both around it would seem foolish to waste it relaxing when we have a shed to varnish, a wall to re-paint and a six foot fish tank that needs a good clean out.
5) Buying presents
Not for the kids; they're young, their wants are few and they're ridiculously easy to please. I know this will change but at the moment, it's fairly easy. I'm talking buying for adults who have their own disposable incomes and buy whatever they want or need as they decide they want or need it, so you end up trawling Amazon for basically anything they won't immediately put in the cupboard and forget about or regift to you next year.
6) Wrapping presents
In the list of things I do not want to do with my evening, wrapping presents is up there with lying in the dark waiting for the small one to fall asleep for two hours. Luckily for me I get to do both. Some people say they find it calming and therapeutic. Those people need a glass of wine and Netflix.
|Do you think she'll notice one was supposed to be a birthday present?|
I refuse to rewrap.
We have learned through bitter experience not to attempt unwrapping without a set of power tools and a box full of batteries handy. Dawn from Rhyming with Wine had it nailed in this brilliant post.
I'm not a fan and - controversial, I know - I don't understand the hype; it's basically a big, dry chicken. When I do Christmas myself (yep, to this day I've not cooked a Christmas dinner. Maybe next year we'll have the space to host so I can try to adult and disappoint everyone with my lack of cookery skills) it won't be turkey. I don't even think my oven is big enough.
I'm getting old. Everything you traditionally stuff down your cakehole at Christmas; chocolate, cream, cheese and indeed cake, makes me heartburny and yet it's so delicious I can't help myself.
10) Taking the tree and decorations down
At least it makes the living room look bigger but I swear it takes twice the time it took to get the bloody things up and you have to do it properly or you'll truly regret it come December next year.
And finally, if you think I'm being an unnecessary mardy arse, I'll leave you with this delight, and the thought that someone, somewhere, thought this was a good idea. Someone somewhere was paid to sing this. And then my husband bought it.