Saturday, December 25, 2010


Ahh Christmas! Love it. Hate the preparation but love the day itself and all that wonderful thought-provoking stuff behind the Reason.  I also love the traditions that we have built up in our family over the years. My kids probably won't remember many of the presents they received growing up (except maybe for that terrifying walking, roaring lion with the flashing red eyes that my mum bought for Beloved's grandson) but I can guarantee that they'll remember the Christmas Eve customs that have been in place for the last couple of decades. Things like listening out for Santa's sleigh bells, preparing his supper, putting out stockings and knowing that in the morning they'll be chocca with goodies with snowy footprints all over the lounge (that seem suspiciously like baking soda dropped in the shape of Mum's jandals). But the one that stands out for me is....drum roll please....the annual CLEANING OF THE TOILET(S). When a large man of advanced years has to deliver presents right around the globe while being plied with milk, cookies and mulled wine, it makes sense that he just might need to make a pitstop once in a while.  After all, he is just a man.  Last year the kids were actually fighting over who would get to do which loo.
C making sure that T has completed the job up to her high standards

We have a new fostie this Christmas and it all seems a bit foreign to him. He'd never seen a Christmas stocking before last night so he wasn't all that convinced when he was presented with a toilet brush.

One tradition I haven't been able to come to grips with is sending out Christmas cards. They're not cheap, you have to line up for half an hour to buy a stamp, they usually end up in the paper recycling bin by January and...I'm just a bit too...lazy.  Shocking I know but sadly true.  If I give a card, I'd much rather deliver it by hand and preferably with a gift.  Consequently a lot of friends have given up on sending cards out to me so my cards tend to be more consipcuous by their absence. This inactivity of mine stunned Beloved when we first married and his suggestion that I make up one of those corny family newsletters wasn't met with much enthusiasm by me either. 
NOT my wall!
A few Christmas Eves ago we got a call that some friends were popping in for a visit. I wasn't totally prepared for this and realised that things were looking a bit sparse on the decoration side - this was in the days before I purchased my giant inflatable Santa and Rudolph. What can I say? I panicked. String was found and hung from wall to wall across the ceiling with sticky tape. You can fix just about any problem with string and sticky tape. Cupboards and drawers were trashed as I managed to pull out every pack of budget Christmas card Beloved had collected over the years. I had those babies strung up and all evidence tidied away just as our visitors pulled into the driveway. It was shaping up to be a brilliant plan as our string of cards was admired:  "Oooooh, you've got a lot of cards!" (which pretty much translates to "Ooooooh, you're much more popular than we are!"). 

I would have gotten away with it if not for the question that followed: "Errrrmmmm....why don't all those cards have anything written inside them?"  To which Beloved replied, "Ange will explain..."

Merry Christmas all

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