Thursday, 1 December 2011

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

So its apparently the most wonderful time of the year.  Who said that?  Wait! I'm going to google it.......Right I'm not really any further forward, it would seem every tom, dick and harry with a microphone and a combover has had a bash at it, at some point or other, but Andy Williams seems to be most famous for it.  I've checked, and he's still alive, so I've invited said Andy Williams, King of so called Swing to swing by my house to experience our version of 'the most wonderful time of the year'.

OK, so I'm been off today, and because the schools, councils etc are striking both of the boys are off too. I wake full of some kind of pre-December Christmas joy and while I'm changing out of my sleeping jama's and into my cleaning jamas I decide that not only am I going to clean today, I'm going to put the Christmas decorations up.

  • Sleeping jamas - Seasonal. Summer - vest top, cotton trousers.  Winter - tshirt, fleecy bottoms (both interchangeable)
  • Feeling poorly downstairs jama's - may need to accept visitors in these so generally a matching set, preferably from next/M&S. Matching dressing gown desirable but not essential.
  • Christmas jamas - lovely/twee/cosy generally contain either cute picture (reindeer) or vaguely suggestive message 'i've been a naughty girl santa'.  Note if the latter, and unwell at Christmas change into the former, in the name of good taste
  • Entertaining/Sexy jamas - the kind of thing you wore before you threw up/gave birth in front of your other half. Basically don't bother, he's a dead cert.
  • Cleaning jamas - relegated from downstairs jamas, quite tatty and generally covered in bleach or gloss paint.
 I will admit that I wouldn't normally condone even considering putting up the Dec's until December (today is November 30th) however I took a magic sleeping pill last night, so I'm all well rested and possibly still slightly under the effect of the sedative. I must be to even consider the dreaded decoration horror day.

I clean upstairs, as I need to wait for Phil to come home for lunch to get everything out of the attic. Joe is still in bed, allegedly revising, which is highly unlikely unless he's somehow managed to work out how to do it while sound asleep and shouting about corned beef (As far as I'm aware he isn't taking a GCSE in corned beef however they do things very different these days).  I use one and a half bottles of bleach cleaning the bathroom.  Its impossible to enter the room without developing a burning feeling behind your eyes and a streaming nose. I take this as a sign that it's really clean.

Joe gets up at this point attempts to enter the bathroom but is repelled by the fumes. Then Phil comes home and instead of moaning about getting the Dec's out of the attic he positively skips up the ladders. I realise that he is delighted to be missing car crash decoration day.  He even brings all the boxes and bags downstairs. I am in the middle of telling him my plans for this years colour scheme/theme when I hear the front door slam and the car wheel spin out of the drive. Quite rude I think.

In films, or at least the kind I favour, the boys should be desperately excited to decorate the house ready for Santa's impending visit, however in this house there is no one to be seen. I consider the fact that it's because I haven't created a festive enough atmosphere, so I turn the computer on and pop on 'the best Christmas album in the world ever'.  With the haunting (whiny???) voice of Mariah Carey singing about all she wants for Christmas drifting around the house I set off in search of the boys. 

I check everywhere and am left with Joe's room. I go to push open the door but can't, it seems to be stuck.  I try again but nothing. I shout them, 'Joe, Syd, hurry up, its time to put the Dec's up'......nothing.  Again, but louder 'JOE, SYD, WE'RE PUTTING THE DECORATIONS UP.......' Still nothing....I'm getting a bit annoyed now, which isn't part of my plan for today. Today I am a Doris Day style super mummy, I will not lose my temper, throw anything or swear.

I consider shouting again until,

'Mam'. Its Joe, seemingly from right behind the door, 'Go away, we're not coming out'  Then Syd 'Yeah Mam, go away'......They're actually sat behind the door blocking my entry.

I'm quite irritated now. 'This is silly, now come out and help'.....Oh look! It's the organ-grinder Joe again, 'You just do it Mam, then we'll come down and say its nice'.....and here come's the monkey (aka Syd) 'yeah mam, we'll say it's nice'.

I'm annoyed but I still have my trump card, and I'm not above playing it.....'okay', I say, walking a few steps back, 'but I wouldn't want to think Santa found out you refused to put the decorations up'

'Nooooooooooooh' (that was Joe. He knows I've won)

Next comes Syd 'Let me out Joe, let me out, I need to help....JOE'

'She's tricking you' (Joe)
'Let me out' (Syd)
'Santa will still come' (Joe)
'LET ME OUT' (Syd)

The door opens, and much as in a hostage situation, Syd is shoved into the hall, before the door slams again.  As a resourceful mother I'm not above dirty tricks, so I pull out my super duper trump card. I lean into the door and say in a mock whisper.

'Thanks Syd, I thought while we put the tree up, we'd open that tin of celebrations.......' I then grab Syd and roll to safety, as Joe's door almost comes off the hinges....

'What needs doing mam'

So we start by sorting out the baubles. Within 10 seconds of the opening the box the boys are in a full blown bauble fight.  I shout for a bit and realise I'm getting nowhere, in fact I seem to whipping them into a full blown frenzy.  There are baubles bouncing off my head so I do the most responsible thing possible I SCREAM, COVER MY EYE AND FALL ON THE FLOOR.

So here am I, rolling about on the floor. There is still a volley of baubles flying above me, and I realise that they are completely ignoring me.  What I do next is still completely inexplicable to me. I shout:


Stupidly I expect that this will stop them from throwing baubles and rush to my aid, but oh no, they just speed up the volley of baubles so I do the only sensible thing open to me.

  • Stand up, take control and demand that they behave themselves
  • Calmly get up and walk out of the room, leaving them to it
  • Threaten to take away pocket money/xbox time/biscuits
  • Do something completely and frighteningly bizarre
This is me, so I immediately discount the first three and go for number four.  So what I do, is crawl under the ongoing bauble fight into the kitchen. I locate a bottle of red food colouring/cochineal and drip it into my eye.  It stings a bit but I persevere. Checking in the mirror it actually looks like my eyeball is bleeding. Excellent. I consider walking back into the room but believe that crawling may add to the effect, so dropping to my knees, I crawl back towards them.


This has gone too far. I could, should I choose to, return to the kitchen and wash my eye, it is actually stinging quite a lot now too. I probably should do the adult thing and just go in there and kick off a bit and get them to stop chucking baubles about. 

Despite my inner monologue/note to self I decide they deserve a shock so I decide to carry out my plan.  I crawl into the living room and plan to quietly wait for them to notice them. 

They don't. So instead I shout 'HELP, I CAN'T SEE OUT OF MY EYE!!!!!!' (What on earth is wrong with me!).  They both turn to look at me and all hell breaks out.  Syd screams the house down, Joe rushes over, Syd hot on his heels, and grabs my face.

Suddenly my stroppy, sulky 16 year old is Charlie Fairhead from Casualty.  He tells me to keep calm, he sends Syd for kitchen roll, which he wads up and presses to my eye. He then takes his phone out....APPARENTLY TO PHONE AN AMBULANCE.

Oh sweet jesus, I'm in too deep now. I was just playing a little joke on them, for being naughty earlier, now I'm pretending to be blind and apparently bleeding profusely from my blind eye. How do I get out of this.

  • Tell the truth
  • Lie
I decide to do neither, what I do instead is ask Joe to press down on the wadded kitchen roll over my eye, I moan a bit, then say he needs to remove it. Which he does. The kitchen roll is soaked with my blood (I know, I know,  I'm just really getting into this) and I blink like a newborn foal and proclaim that I can see again.....The boys hug me, high five etc.

I then give them a fiver to go to the shop for treats and put the decorations up myself.

Yes, truly the most wonderful time of the year.

1 comment:

  1. That's so funny. I have 3 sons and can completely relate. Keep blogging...