Happy New Year lovely readers! How fitting that my 100th post ***fanfare please*** should start with the the very first words I ever wrote on Water Birth Please. Yes, a full year has passed and been documented here on my humble little site. My plan for the big 100th was to tell you about our Christmas, and although I would love nothing more than to recount a tale of log fires, gifts greeted with the innocent glee of a child, and loving family Christmas-card-picture cosiness, it didn’t all pan out that way:
Christmas Eve – LOVELY! Friends and family gathered to our “Open House” invitation and our fantastically talented musician neighbours came armed with penny whistles, guitars and violins. Big ol’ Christmas sing-song and knees up. Dancing toddlers clutched jingle bells and tambourines and jumped to their hearts content. Mulled wine flowed. All was Christmassy and festive. (As an added bonus – everyone was gone by 7pm so little-un even kept her usual bedtime.) My head hit the pillow that night happy, contented, and the most excited I’d been on a Christmas eve in years. Grace this year is just that little bit older, and seems to understand a bit more about it all. She hadn’t shut up about Father Christmas for weeks and knew she was getting presents for being a good girl. It was like the magic was all coming back again.
However . . .
Christmas Day – Disastrous. She woke up having a HUGE hissy fit, which pretty much didn’t stop. All day. It was tantrum city, and it got ridiculous. Every gift that was presented to her was met with hysterical screams of “NO NO NOOOO!” If we tried to help her open any wrapping, it was armageddon. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! BACK ON BACK ON BACK ON!” as she desperately tried to wrap them back up, and on failing to do so, hurled them at us unceremoniously. Awful. I ended up walking the dogs – on my own – in floods of tears for the rest of the morning, and the presents had to be put away.
Maybe it all got a bit too much for her. Maybe we have such high expectations for Christmas that anything less than perfect, and it becomes a million times more of a bigger deal than it would be on any other day of the year. Maybe she just thought the presents looked too pretty to rip up. Who knows?
Thankfully, from boxing day onwards, we opened a few gifts a day with her and all was well, but bloody hell! Is it all worth it? I’ll let you know next year!
Other news: The dogs have had diorrhea for several days now. (My blog is just a delight isn’t it?) A friend came over the other morning for a coffee and a catch up. Dog number one went to the trouble of getting up from his bed and crossing the room to stand right in front of said friend before crouching to squeeze his cheeks together and spilling forth a plethora of poo. Dog is severly reprimanded and thrown outside and I am shovelling shit and apologising profusely, when dog number two decides to let a pile go on the other side of the room just as I’d finished disinfecting. Aaaahhhh! (If anyone is interested in adopting a geriatric belgian shepherd, or an intellectually challenged greyhound with a porridge gun for an arsehole, then please do get in touch.)
We have other issues going on too. Namely, tantrums and potty training (with the child, not the dogs.) Both subjects far to involved to go into on the one blog post. They deserve a rant all of their own as I’m having a real struggle with both.
Till then, I shall leave with a glossy mag style, super trendy, word-on-the-street type feature of What’s Hot and What’s Not in the strange world of Grace:
What’s hot –
- The whoopie cushion Daddy got for Christmas.
- Cbeebies programme “Show Me Show Me”
- Kissing. Mwah!
- Making pretend cups of tea.
- Telling the cat off. “Naughty Winnie! Grace’s Pram!”
- Dance Junior on the Wii but only with Daddy. Mummy’s dancing makes me cross. (Which is FINE with Mummy)
- Purple dressing gown with hood.
What’s Not –
- Dolly that wees.
- Mr Tumble.
- Socks. Or shoes. They are the enemy and must be avoided on the feet at all costs (although putting them on hands or ears is fine.)
- Mummy trying to sing along in the car. “No Mummy – Gracie sing!” (I guess my singing is about as good as my dancing skills then.)
- Wearing nappies.
- Not wearing nappies.
- Pink dressing gown with spots.
Till the next time . . .