So, first blog post of the new year and it comes with a resolution to make creating new posts a more regular occurrence so if there are things you would and wouldn’t want to read about in 2018 please leave feedback.
We had the ‘back to school’ rigmarole last week. Always fun after 3 weeks holiday. It baffles and amazes me how it is possible to lose one shoe/one plimsoll/one trainer/ between taking them off and requiring them again.
Inevitably followed by the words “well that’s where I left them, someone must have moved them”,
Yep those pesky fairies have a lot to answer for.
Then, of course, there’s the ‘new term bag packing’ which this time I fortunately didn’t leave until the morning of return. Why fortunately? Well, because otherwise I wouldn’t have found the Christmas card Noodle had lovingly created for us yet forgot to deliver, and I wouldn’t have found the homework he was so adamant he didn’t have.
Back to school seems to indicate the end of the Christmas season. The time to put a more sensible head on. The time to swap pyjamas for some semblance of daywear. The time to not wake up in a cold sweat at 2am because you haven’t moved the god damn elf. The time to actually check that it’s at least the afternoon when someone offers you a drink. The time to start drinking said drinks out of proper, civilised receptacles (and this is brought to you by the person who spent Christmas and new year drinking from either a disco ball with a straw hole or a hollowed out chocolate reindeer). The time to eat something with actual nutritional value.
And it’s on that last note that I decided just this morning that the Christmas season is definitely over thanks to a conversation with Pickle.
“Mummy I’ll cook for you in my kitchen, what would like for breakfast?”
“Oh I don’t know, what would you recommend?”
She stopped what she was doing. Turned to look at me. Cast her eyes up and down and declared:
“Maybe just lettuce………………………………”
Ok. Resuming normality followed by a Slimming World reunion it is then.
During the aftermath it’s easy to look back over the season and dwell
on things you wish you’d done slightly differently; different food you could have cooked, different presents you could have bought, the pile of cards you should have posted (just me?) I think this may be the first year that I am not partaking in the value of hindsight and that alone means this Christmas was an unrivalled success.
You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this and you may be surprised to learn that I am rubbish at Christmas.
I lost my mum three days after Christmas a few years ago and try as you might, it’s not easy to disassociate the two things (although I obviously try for the Monkeys). It means I try to overcompensate to the point of striving for perfection, an idealism that will never be reached and therefore becomes a disappointment. I take on everything and overthink everything until the fun becomes a chore and it’s a slow road to burnout. Someone said to me recently, that I am far too bothered by what other people’s impressions of me are. To a point this is true, but sometimes the opinions you hold of yourself are ultimately the most damaging.
I came up with my own personal catchphrase related to this
PRACTICALLY PERFECT ISN’T ALWAYS PERFECTLY PRACTICAL.
But. Proudly I can say this year was different. This year was more fun than chore. Each element was enjoyable and there wasn’t the inevitable anticlimax. I think what I have learned is that there is no ideal. You do what works for you. And you don’t worry about what everyone else thinks. You surround yourself with people who appreciate you for who you are, not with those who constantly expect more than you can comfortably give.
It is what it is and that’s all it needs to be.
So. Christmas has been and gone and New Year is but a distant memory, so let’s conclude these ramblings with some of the funnier festive goings-on in The Circus.
- The turkey that was left to defrost was scavenged and mauled by a wild yeti (or possibly a local nosy cat – the jury’s still out).
- The replacement turkey took nigh on the entire twelve days of Christmas to cook.
- This resulted in the infamous words “I’ll just whack the temperature up for a bit”
- This resulted in the infamous words “Erm, why exactly is the oven on fire?” (thank god it’s not long til Mother’s Day as the new black hue of my oven gloves really doesn’t complement my kitchen)
- The baby seemed to have rather deepseated issues with the Christmas tree. The poor thing was subjected to light saber attacks, somewhat vigorous shaking, and my beautifully co-ordinated tree decorations wouldn’t look out of place in an earthquake reconstruction.
So. That’s it really. We survived Christmas. Everyone was mostly unscathed. I use the word ‘was’ as the day before yesterday saw us holding Noodle’s first ever proper birthday party. He was extremely lucky and received many wonderful gifts and some money. Money that I irresponsibly said he could spend on things of his choosing……
A Nerf Gun…..and SpongeBob Squarepants Walkie Talkies
So normality is finally restored, just as long as you avoid the SAS secret missions corp which lie in wait with foam bullets while sending and receiving undecodable messages through a bright yellow talking sponge of course.
Welcome to my world.