Tis the season to be jolly
Tra la la la la la la la arrrrrrggggghh!
I'm not feeling that jolly at the moment. More like the season that you are stressed out as hell and running around like a headless Turkey.
Since having my boys I have always found Christmas stressful and this year it's worse than ever. It doesn't help that I'm a massive control freak and there are some things I just can't control. So I'm focusing far too much on the ones I can. Yes, I know that the only thing that is important is family time whilst celebrating the birth of Jesus, but I'm finding it hard to focus on that at the moment. I have pre school visits, nativity plays, fetes, mufty days and tombola prizes to remember to name just a few. Santa is quite frankly behind on his Xmas ordering and the one present that big man wants is currently out of stock. I know that if he doesn't get it, it won't be the end of the world. I know that Santa should be able to locate a smaller version. You see Santa isn't an expert on remote controlled skateboards so can be excused for getting a smaller set.
The Christmas elf is also bugging me. You know the one. The freaky looking thing that spies on kids. He appears to be like marmite. I bought a slightly cuter version last year and spent my evenings setting up some "hilarious" situations for it. Did the kids notice. Nope. And then there was the incident where the elf was messing with my head! So why am I stressing about not doing it this year? I haven't the time or energy to decorate the house in toilet paper but when I see the numerous posts on Twitter and Instagram, I'm having parental guilt. Will my boys ever forgive me that I can't be bothered to sprinkle flour over the kitchen for old Alfie? The answer is probably yes on the basis there had been no mention of said elf. Besides the TA at school has told them about a Christmas robin that reports back to Santa and they seem to have spotted that in the playground.
The Tesco delivery was also a fail this year. After saying to my Mum that I'd stay up to midnight to get my slot, I had a glass of wine (or 2) whilst watching The Apprentice and went to bed. I woke up in sheer panic that God forbid I'd have to enter a shop near Christmas. All was not lost and I managed to get a slot in the week before and thanks to the invention of fridges everything will be fine.
Of course I don't help myself with the whole wrapping process and different papers from Santa and us. It's not like big man even looks at the tags before he attacks the presents Tasmanian devil style. I don't know why I am worrying but I do. Writing it down makes it even more ridiculous. It's in my make up. Christmas will happen whether I'm ready or not and I need to stop worrying about totally pointless things. So with that I think I need to crack open the mulled wine and put Micheal Buble on the stereo and start appreciating the season to be jolly. What about you?