Where the Elf is my Christmas Spirit?

It’s Christmas. Roar.

I’m struggling with this Christmas thing. I’m really sorry, but if you’re making any kind of Christmas craft, or baking your gifts and wrapping them in cellophane while you sing carols, I won’t be able to read your posts. It’s not you, it’s me. I just feel a bit… bah humbug.

First I thought it was because it was October and there were carols and mince pies in the shops, and I was still fighting my inner battle over Halloween. But now it’s only a week out, and I still haven’t bought any presents. Uh-oh. We have a tree, and it smells great, but this year I’m not going and sticking my nose into it for great big whiffs like I’ve done in the past. Underneath are some sad, empty floorboards. Each night I go to sleep with my hands over my eyes while the Christmas lights epileptically flash through the blinds over my windows.

I am becoming a little bit afraid of going to sleep, hiding under the covers in my white nightcap and billowing white nightgown, waiting for that dude to turn up and drag me back through my Christmases past and future until we have to go and look in on poor dead Tiny Tim’s sad family.

I’m not hiding completely though. We had our Christmas lunch with our wonderful friends at Manly on Saturday, as we do each year. This year was fabulous, as nobody was pregnant. Finally!! We had our Shit Kringle, with a max $10 spend, and unlimited steals. By far the most coveted were the honking horn beer mug and the Crocodile pool float, which I can proudly claim to have purchased myself. So I do at least still have my gift-buying skills. I am now the proud owner of a beautiful set of man-care products for the face, which would be lovely, if I had a man-face. Well, perhaps I do, when I’m angry, but I generally don’t feel like facial grooming at such times. I got a little spirited, it’s true, but not particularly in a Christmas kind of way.

Some kind of Christmas spirit.

I will enthrall you now with a brief pictorial run-down of the day’s events, so you can capture all the excitement as each Shit Kringle gift unfolded from our dizzy blindfolded hands. (I should mention – the dizziness was not purely alcohol-induced… prior to our selection we were spun around pin-the-tail on the donkey style about 15 times).

Spin the donkey – weeee fairy fingers!

She was spun so much she got lost and grabbed the wrong present! Oops;)

Jackpot! Honk if you’re thirsty!

 

So … since Christmas is about kids, and I have some, I’m going to have to get my Christmas on somehow. I’m going to work on some kind of military-style three-pronged attack, I think. There will be holes in this approach, because there always are in my plans, and I have no army training. My training is legal, so I’m good at poking holes in stuff.

Step 1) Listen to the carols. I will not discriminate. There will be Mariah in there. In fact, quite a lot of her, because despite the fact she’s shrill and wobbly, my brother loved her when he was 14, and listened to her Christmas CD on loop, so she kinda brings back happy family Christmas childhood memories, in a weird and annoying kind of way.

The French li-moose. An interesting character.

Step 2) Go to the bloody shops, and buy the bloody presents. All that tinsel and towers of Danish biscuits in tins and Santa and howling children will surely have to touch me deep inside, won’t it?

Step 3) Find some real carols, and go to them. Take children, and wine. And more wine. Dripping candle wax down your arm and watching your children wiggle their butts to jingle bells has to be a little bit like Christmas, doesn’t it? I’m just scared I’ll get picnic blanket rage at all the place-holding/complaining/pushing/jostling that goes on at that stuff. Where’s their Christmas spirit? Oh yeah. They’re probably like me.

That li-moose. It gets around.

A slinky AND a yoyo!? UNBELIEVABLE!

Considering these things may not be enough, please send me your best Christmassy spirity type tips that work for you (that do NOT involve baking or craftificating) and I will be eternally grateful. So will my poor girls who are clutching on to their advent calendars for dear life.

xx Merry Something.

My Christmas Wish List – thanks Santa – NOW.

There’s a little wishing game going on, and the lovely Kelly at HT&T has bestowed upon me the honour of making my very own little wishy (I did not say washy cos I’m pretty bloody demanding) wish list. So, please, Santa, bring me all of the following. Preferably now, because it’s been a hell of a hectic week, I’m impatient, and I shouldn’t even be writing this post. I’m stealing my own working time and I’ve been awake since 5am. I want to wish for altruistic things, but I’m feeling like a cranky 5-year old right now. So here is my cranky 5-year old wish list.

First of all, dear slightly rotund man with rather flattering forest moss-like facial hair (because we all know flattery will get you everywhere, right?) I would like some world peace. WHATEVER. I’m not in a beauty pageant. Let’s start small. I would like some house peace please. Just baby steps. Let’s not bite off more than we can chew, hey? Santa … you and me – we’ve got this. We work together, pull this off, I reckon we’ve got the other wishes IN THE BAG. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I really need you to grant me this one though please, because this one is more than I can bite off and chew by myself. I’m tired, I’m poor, I think I meant to say time poor, and they just. keep. arguing. I want some little cherubs all wrapped up in shiny packages under my tree please, hugging each other and saying ‘yes mummy, of course we’ll brush our teeth and go straight to bed, because bed is LOVELY and so is sleep.’

Oooh look! Presents containing perfect angel children! Weeeee!

Now that you’re warmed up, I would like you to bring me something slightly more challenging. The Fountain of Eternal Youth. This fountain should be made from champagne (french – preferably Veuve). You’re laughing at me now, but really, I’m not asking for too much. I swear. I’m ok with growing old … I just want to LOOK awesome while I do it. Rot my organs, atrophy my pelvic floor, but for goodness sake, let my skin not sag below the jawline! I’m not being vain, just pragmatic. Nobody will listen to me about the world peace thing with a sagging jawline.

Slight tack change here. A karaoke machine. This one sounds selfish too, but it’s not. Everyone has a drinking ‘curse’. Mine is singing. Get a few under my belt (you’d know about that, right? I always leave you a coldie on Christmas Eve, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one…. you’ve got elves to steer that reindeer ship, right?) and I’m compelled. It’s a force of nature and I can’t fight it. I simply must sing. Maybe if there was a karaoke machine in my house I could stop singing into bottles, hairbrushes, using tables as my stage and generally tormenting family and friends. Maybe. And you know what? The kids would just LOVE it. (They’re genetically programmed, see.)

I look just as cute as Taylor Swift when i sing into a hairbrush *she says snorting tea out her nose*

A bottomless cup of tea. I understand. You probably only give away one of these each year, and clearly the rightful recipient should be Catherine at Cup of Tea and a Blog but since she decided to forgo her wish this year by instead jumping in the tardis, I’m putting my hand up. Tea tastes SO much better when it’s made by someone else, and I just keep boiling the kettle, and boiling it, and boiling it, and then nothing else happens … As a recreational activity it’s ok, but if you could make me a cup of Assam Bold (Twinings, thanks – or otherwise Yorkshire Tea, since I’m sure you have access to it) that keeps magically refilling, piping hot, I’d be MOST GRATEFUL. There’s even a kiss in it for you if you deliver this one ;)

Tea, to the power of 5! K?

One more. All of the books. All of them my kids and I ever want to read. This would take up a considerable amount of space, obviously, so we’re going to have to call on that old faithful here.

The bottomless pit of books – all the storage you could want, plus an unoriginal idea. Who, me?

 

Now – I’ve left this wishing game rather late, and many of you may already have played, since I’ve been out of bloggy loopy land this week. So please point at me and laugh if you’re already tagged. If not, I’d LOVE to see your list:

The Things I’d Tell You

The Kids are All Right

Lydias Lunchbox of Thoughts

Declutterbug vs Captain Stingypants