Reasons to be cheerful on Boxing Day

The Boxing Day slump. Humph. We opened our presents, we sang our carols, we pranced around in new slippers before showering with new shower creme and dousing ourselves in new perfume. We played new games, we opened the special chocolates. We dined with the best plates and glasses and we snacked on turkey sandwiches even though or belts were bursting. We put sleepy children to bed with new pajamas and we kissed their tired heads goodnight. Then we watched the disappointing Royle Family and retired to bed, happy, full and exhausted. And then Boxing Day beckons and we find ourselves thinking ‘What now?’
The Boxing Day slump can be fatal to festive celebrations, if you let it. The kids are deflated with the lack of presents to open (‘why can’t we have presents EVERY day?) and the extra glass of champagne quaffed last night now seems like such a silly idea. And why didn’t we wash up the supper plates last night so that a) there are no reminders of having eaten the unnecessary meal and b) the house is nice and tidy and not ever-so-slightly depressing…
But, wait! There is no need for the Boxing Day slump! There are many reasons to be cheerful and I can tell you three right now:

1. We have new things.
Lovely, soft, cuddly dressing gown, oh! How I surely love thee!
You keep me warm when the baby awakes and you cover my HUGE belly!

2. We can take a nap later.
The festivities are over; the baby needs to sleep
And nobody will notice if into the bed I creep!

3. There’s loads of champagne left and nobody has to go to work.
We said we would never drink again
we said we’d had enough.
But soon the champers will be winking at us-
pass the corkscrew then!

I will be posting more reasons to be cheerful throughout the day. I apologise for the bad poetry but I challenge you to do the same! This is the first time I have added a linky but I hope that lots can join in! Add your details and let others know. I want to know why we should be cheerful today!!!

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The Evil Santa head

We’re spending Chistmas at my parent’s house and it is filled with a variety of singing, shaking, dancing, jingling festive characters that I had to blog about because they are invading my life right now!! Everything is so LOUD!!
I love Christmas at my parents. I grew up here. I helped to construct the conservatory; I got housemaid’s knee from grouting the tiled floor. I’ve seen the rooms evolve from classic seventies swirled carpets to sleek, modern wooden sheens. I’ve seen woodchip walls change into gaudy wallpaper designs and then fresh, clean paint. The bathroom, once olive green and fluffy carpets, now sparkles white and bright and echoes when you talk. But this is the house that I still call home, years and years after I left to be an adult with my own house and my own things. So being here at Christmas means the world to me; not only is this house full of memories but its also houses my family and that’s what makes it so special. BUT it also houses these awful yuletide yobs that keep singing and shouting and JINGLING.
The worst culprit of them all is the grotesque decapitated Santa head that is activated by the slightest sound. It shudders violently, it shrieks HO HO HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS! at the top of its voice and then starts to sing Jingle Bells whilst jingling its bells. It’s horrible. For the first three years E was terrified but now this year she LOVES it. L doesn’t. It’s a true battle of wills and I’m on L’s side. I want to hide the Evil Santa head but I have visions of it re-appearing like Chucky. Today the Evil Santa head was set off thanks to an illicit cracker pulling session in the next room. It woke the baby and raised my stress levels a little further. Grrr.
But as I type I’ve started to realise something. If an evil Santa head is the only thing getting my goat right now, then things can’t be so bad. Lots of families get together at Christmas and spend the whole time arguing and wishing they were elsewhere. Me, I’m biting my tongue and dancing along to Jingle Bells because I’ve got everything I want right here this year and no amount of Evil Santa heads will change that.

EVIL Santa head

HIS drawer

play academy

My son loves kitchen appliances. We once found him inside the dishwasher. Don’t worry, it was empty and the door was open and he was only inside for a few seconds!!! I found him trying to climb inside the washing machine but he couldn’t quite get his leg up high enough… So he loves kitchens. We got him a play kitchen for his birthday and I must say- it is VERY popular. But it isn’t as popular as the real thing. So, since I spend a good proprtion of time in the kitchen cooking, washing up, making packed lunches, sterilising bottles, eating meals, dancing with E, cutting and sticking, marking books… you get the idea. Since the kitchen is such a central place for us as a family we decided we would let L have free run. Apart from the oven, that is. So when we empty the dishwasher, one person distracts/ restrains him whilst the dangerous items are removed and then he “helps”. By far his favourite chore is to empty HIS DRAWER. His drawer is indeed filled with his things- old bottles and teats, plastic bowls and cups, bibs, muslin squares, even an old (CLEAN!!!!) breast pump attachment. Everything we have ever used that is plastic goes into that drawer and he just loves to take it all out and put it back again. So, in the nature of free and imaginative play, I guess we have responded to his needs and wants and YES we let him climb inside the drawer too. He is happy. That is play. Maybe he will also learn to tidy up after himself… who knows!!

This is HIS drawer and this is HIS fun

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Slugs, snails, puppy dog tails…

What makes a boy a boy? Here’s my boy:

He’s playing with one of his new toys. A JCB. But who told him to? I mean, with his sister’s toys littered throughout thr house at a slightly higher ratio than his own, why does he choose a digger to play with over a doll? True, he often plays with the Zhu Zhu pets and has a rabbet blanket thingy he sleeps with that has a *little* bit of pink on it… but still. He acts like a boy, too.

He’s physical. He climbs (so did his sister) and he fights (so did his siter) and he doesn’t cry when he bumps into things or falls over (NOT like his sister). He’s just different. He’s a boy. We aren’t doing anything different in terms of parenting, but perhaps we are treatiing him differently. I mean, we don’t paint his toe nails but then we rarely paint our daughter’s either. He’s just a boy and a complete mystery at times (I have 4 sisters).
So, in honour of my “strange” boy, I’ve written this in the style of the books he so loves. I must add that this was not my idea originally. I saw it on Hot Cross Mum ‘s fab blog. Couldn’t resist.

That’s not my boy
His face is too clean!
That’s not my boy
His socks are still on!
That’s not my boy
His cries are too soft!
That’s not my boy
He slept all night!
That’s not my boy
His dinner plate is empty!
That’s not my boy
My heart didn’t miss a beat!

That’s my boy!
His kisses are so sweet!

The End.


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