Sorry to begin in a less than customary fashion, but there I was, idly sitting in watching X Factor, with not a glass of vino nor a crisp in sight (Grrr Elder. Best not to ask), when Dermot O'lushbuttocks (sorry that's my own personal name for him there) declared that there are a mere 3 weeks left of the competition.
Three weeks of X Factor can only mean one thing.
In just over 3 weeks time.
To be fair, being
Which makes for one thing: Panic.
Now, I don't mind Christmas. I am one of those people who liked it prior to the kids as it meant a whole two days excuse to get
For a start, if its just you and your mates, there's no need to buy the equivalent of a small toy shop, knowing full well that by January most of these toys will be dumped in the toy box, replaced by their usual fave teddy or dolly. Usually these are the moth eaten, half missing stuffing toys with dodgy over played with hair that you bought in a moment of trying to quell a headache inducing strop in your nearest cheap shop. To see these become permanent fixture over something which cost the equivalent of the national debt of a Third World country is not a great experience.
You have to make sure all the food is proper food- its not like the days when you could feed your mates onion rings and what was left of an Iceland Chicken platter by day 3 of Christmas Season. No, you need to buy all the nice party fayre, plus your usual weekly Asda shop on top.
And woe betide if you run out of milk or bread. Try finding a shop open on Boxing Day. Not an easy thing to manage. Unless Next (practically the only shop open in Maidenhead on Boxing day) has started a grocery concession, you're pretty stuck.
Then there is the tree. Which I will spend hours lovingly dressing with the twenty boxes of dangly things I buy every year, enough tinsel to scare Julian Clary and finally, ending in a flourish with lights so strong, Blackpool rings to ask for them back.
Only to find that, two hours after the grand unveiling,aforementioned tree has been pulled, poked and knocked over by two over zealous, bored kids until only the top half remains covered in half sagging finery.
Then there is the "who gets to have a few glasses of wine on the day itself" debate. Which, in our house I always lose. Even when the kids have finally gone to bed, at least 4 hours after their usual bedtime, you know full well that any possibility of having a drink is non existent as the kids will be over tired and over excited and will not go off to the land of nod until at least 1am.
Christmas needs lists, planning and re-planning. Of which I have none of.
I think it shall be Christmas in a hurry this year.
*20somethingmum would like to point out that a) she is not a lush and b) she really loves spending Christmas with her children. Honest.
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