Christmas Rush Part 1: Pass the Lemsip

It's started already; playing ruthless games of catch-up, eating out of bags passed from drive-through windows while stuck in traffic and calling it mealtime. I'm also driving around with a takeaway cup in my car cup-holder so I can take a chug of Lemsip Multi-Relief at each traffic light.

It's the Christmas rush and it's only bloody November.

I was reading an old post from around Christmas last year and man was I stressed. Well what's changed?

I don't have all the twelve apostles (teachers) to buy for, we are down to one, so that's something. Don't get me wrong, self confessed gift-a-holic here. I love gift giving, adore it..it's the driving, mall parking and finding bit that sends me into a sweaty tail-spin.

But it does seem that our girl is not the only one with a birthday in December. Pretty much ALL of her school friends seem to as well. 

To make matters worse for my shopping (and ongoing bathroom renovations) schedule, I have been bed ridden for days. Turns out I have Strep Throat, which would explain why I've sounded like Sly Stallone for four days in between squeaking like a Japanese Cartoon character.

Meanwhile I have a bathroom with no shower screen, a working bath but you need levitation skills to use it because the floor's not finished; "Just try not to walk on it as much as possible and don't get any water on it yet.." Has this man ever bathed a five-year-old?   The vanity can't be completed till mid January but we can live with that so long as nobody takes out the old ugly one.

So here I am  with the hairdresser (for the first time in six months) having my hair chemically relaxed. After a week of torrential rain (and tornadoes no less), the temperatures and humidity have shot right up and my hair looks like Marge Simpson's sister Selma. Unless I'm prepared to hit it with a straitening iron five times a day - like I have time for that! However my frizz goes nicely with my voice, now I think about it, because I sound like Selma too.

Having just 20 minutes left on the parking meter, it dawns on me that I should be at my doctors appointment in fifteen minutes, and my hair is still doused and dripping with smelly chemicals (kinda like the bathroom; totally the same smell). I'm wishing on my life that I could be chemically relaxed in a way that would, similarly, not wear off for another six months.

I get altogether too twitchy to focus on the  gossip magazines' discussion of Miley Sirus's Twerking and tongue action for another second. But miraculously, I'm out of that chair in ten minutes, across the road into the Doctor's office and out again in seven minutes flat!

Waiting for the lights at the crossing takes longer and I'm still stressed out because the car park is expiring as I do an impatient little dance, repeatedly tapping on the 'cross' button. I've read somewhere (stupid gossip magazine probably) that if you press them a lot they get annoyed and change the lights faster.. or was that for elevator call buttons?

I'm thinking of how the local council employ highly motivated human blood hounds to monitor the parking meters, they can literally smell an expired meter.  Did you know that stressful situations can lead to gross exaggeration and over-generalization? That could be more gossip magazine wisdom. I need to step away from the crap magazines - 90 minutes with nothing else to read and my brain's farting like a dog after a bowl of baked beans.

Anyway I used the pharmacy as a short cut, jogging through, tossing my prescription over the desk puffing;  "sorry. Parking meter. Back in a sec.." continuing through the back door past a knowing, nodding  pharmacist.  My car was parked opposite their back door with no ticket. Phew

When did my days get divided up into these minute increments?

Right after moving my car I charge back into the Pharmacy, then make a hit and run grocery shop, followed by a side trip home to load up the refrigerator and stack and start the dishwasher.

I posted two gifts earlier, neither of them for Christmas. The sky is looking ugly again so I've emptied the washing line but not the basket, and I still have to go out and find a gift for this weekends birthday party.

Oh and walk the Orange dog before the school run.

This is why my day is divided into minute increments.

As much as I love the end result, it's the means I struggle with, and that's what makes me really not keen on this time of year.

To Be Continued...

All I want for Christmas is......

Bah Humbug!

 

Can I please stop gift wrapping yet? I'm developing Carpel Tunnel Syndrome.  

This is what happens when you're child is born two days before Christmas and she has nine (yes nine) pre-school teachers to buy for. Parents all over whinge about low teacher to student ratios and how it affects education, but it makes life a lot easier at the end of the year, I can tell you.  Well I can't actually because I wouldn't know about that, but I will next year.  Three teachers in Kindergarten, four tops. 

OK so it's actually a 'me' thing I'm a gift-a-holic. But our girl's been attending a fabulous pre-school and the teachers and carers, after three years, have become like family. This being Lucie's final year, I wanted to make a special effort. 

As I did with our elderly ex-neighbor who recently lost her husband (she's a tough one because she's diabetic so no boxed chocolates or bottle of wine shortcuts to be made there). Also our other ex-neighbors  had a baby since we all moved, so I just picked up a little something for junior. I do seem to be neglecting our current neighbors - but I say hello I wave...Oh and then there's my domestic support team; our lovely dog walker and Lucie's ex-day care carer, who is now our baby/dog/ house-sitter.

So as I do every year, I've gone and bought more presents for teachers,carers and ex-neighbors than family. I've run myself ragged, zapping through Christmas traffic like a deranged formula one driver, swearing cursing, honking, taking corners on two wheels. But it's like everyone between home and the mall is driving like they're either channeling Fangio on taking a truck load of Prozac. I fall into the former category of course.

One morning after school run I got stuck in the mall car park of all places. So I went up all the ramps to the roof, drove like a mad woman across the roof-top of the entire complex came down another ramp,only to have to take another ticket go into another section of the car park so I could try to get out at an unblocked exit. Getting out of car-parks takes longer than your shopping this time of year. STAY AWAY FROM THE MALL.

Night before last I stayed up decorating the living room and putting out birthday presents. Tonight I'm wrapping Santa's presents, while chomping my way through a pile of apples left out for the reindeer, (with Santa's milk as a chaser). The daddy person has volunteered to tackle the tub of chocolate mouse - uh huh.. I never want to see another apple as long as I live, and I'm hoping like hell we don't get another ant infestation from the apple core's I've scattered around the hearth.

My parents did Christmas so well, and it was about giving as well as getting. I'm following tradition in that we will all give each other presents which have built up under the Christmas tree over the last few weeks. Tonight Santa's bringing three presents for Lucie, previously requested in her 'letter to Santa' which was actually an email. (so much easier for Santa, I'm sure he has an elf or two monitoring his Gmail). This all involves a bit of secrecy, making sure there is no trace at all to be found of the separate and very different garish wrapping paper and glittery ribbons and special gift tags.

Santa also has to bring presents for Buddy. For the sake of you non-doggie people I'll explain that one;

(1) Lucie is of the opinion that Buddy, being a very good dog, would definitely be on Santa's 'nice' list. So getting a present would be a given if Santa is (a) real and (b)all he's cracked up to be.

(2) It's part of the Christmas morning fun, Lucie thinks it's hilarious when Bud unwraps his own presents and does a lap of honor with each one. 

(3) Buddy understands the concept of presents, he understands NOT getting presents when everyone else does (especially Lucie). And I don't want to hurt his feelings because he's a sweetheart.  

OK so you non-doggie people won't get those last two. Sorry, but if you could live with his 'my feelings are hurt' face then you're made of tougher stuff than us. Even my mum sends him presents.

So as the wrapping paper runs low I sigh. Either relief or exhaustion, take your pick. 

Every year December goes by in a blurr - a mad rush to the finish line. But with that comes the moments that somehow make all the rushing stressing and hair-pulling well and truly worth it...

When Lucie was piling those bloody apples onto her Bunnykins plate for the reindeer, and putting down a tub of her precious chocolate mousse and some milk for Santa in her favorite pink mug, her little body was quite literally quivering with excitement.  The pure joy in her smile was just exquisite.

 HAPPY CHRISTMAS YOU LOT

PS: I'm gonna go and make my husband eat some apples. 

PPS: We are flying out tomorrow afternoon for France - yep off to the in-laws again - and I haven't packed my case yet. The dog, hands on his paws, is showing me his most thoroughly depressed face, meanwhile I am in packing-denial.

PPPS: 

Below is a less than exquisite demonstration of the difficulties one can encounter attempting to open a wine bottle without the benefit of opposable thumbs.

 OK, just kidding - it's a chew toy - Buddy's Christmas present from our dog-walker the lovely and equally energetic; Ingrid.