I realised the other day why Advent Calenders were invented: they’re to act as reminders for parents like me of how rapidly Christmas is approaching. Every time we open another one of those little windows, it’s like a little punch in the stomach. It was actually about this time last year, that I had myself a full-blown panic attack where I found myself breaking into KT’s empty house, wandering about hysterically, looking for Uncle B’s scotch whilst breathing into a paper bag. My husband even had to send the Mild Mannered Lawyer around to rescue me because he knew if he woke Tiddles up from his nap just to come around to get me, that might just send me Completely Over The Edge. Ah, good times.
I’m hoping to manage my Christmas Stress Levels a little differently this year. I’m not at all helped by the fact that this is the first year Mr Justice has been able to write his own Santa List completely on his own. I think at this stage the list is longer than L. Ron Hubbard’s ten volume “Mission Earth” and possibly makes about as little sense. Mr Justice is a great fan of organic spelling: he writes ’em as he hears ’em, with a few extra letters thrown in here and there, and – for some reason – lots and lots of hyphens. Anyway, I had to go through the list with him line by line to work out if any of the items a) existed and b) were affordable. I tried to explain that Santa really only gave out little presents to boys and girls and that a “Nin-ten-do Weee” was a bit beyond his budget, but Mr Justice remained quietly confident that Santa could pull it off. It was all I could do to stop myself from saying that if he were to get a Big Ticket item like that, I wasn’t bloody well giving Santa all the credit.
In any case, if Mr Justice knew how far behind Mummy – I mean Santa – was with the Christmas shopping, he might not be feeling so confident about getting anything at all, let alone anything from that long long list. “Oh come on, NDM, what’s your problem?” I can hear some people asking in that all-too-familiar tone of theirs. “You’re a Stay-At-Home Mum and can therefore get to the shops outside of the Prime Bitch Fightin’ Time at night and weekends”. Ah, yes, I reply to these naysayers. I can. But you seem to be overlooking the fact that, with The Pixie and Mr McGee in my full-time care, I bring my own bitch fight wherever and whenever I go. There’s something about all those Christmas Decorations that whips those kidlets into a feral fightin’ frenzy… And so, I’ve taken to trying to get as much as I can on-line, with some mixed results…
Just the other day, I was in the crucial closing stages of bidding for a “V19 Torrent Fighter” on ebay whilst simultaneously chucking stuff in Mr Justice’s lunch box, when I had what I can only call a “Sanitary Product Malfunction”. I ran swiftly to the toilet and was in the process of sorting it out when Tiddles McGee burst in and, perhaps inspired by what he saw or just of his own volition, projectile vomited on the floor by my feet. And it was at this very moment I discovered that the toilet roll was stripped barer than an anonymous bride. Of course, finding new toilet paper required me to first find a pair of fresh underpants and, during that perilous journey (which required me to jump around the house with my legs sealed shut), I managed to leave a horror film-style handprint on our brand new (white) duvet cover hanging in the laundry. And of course, by the time I’d sorted myself, McGee, the vomit and the duvet cover out, I’d missed out entirely on the “V19 Torrent Fighter” on ebay and we were entering Late Pass Territory in my push to get Mr J to school. And all I could think was how am I going to explain all of the above in ten words or less on the Late Pass slip. Maybe “Christmas + ebay + menstrual accident + vomit + no toilet paper = Late”. Or even just “Don’t. Push. Me. ‘Cause. I’m. Close. To. The. Edge.” Honestly, if they’re going to be issuing late passes in the lead up to Christmas, they should at least be handing them out with paper bags and Scotch as well.