December has arrived.
And with it, all the usual over-commercialised, guilt-laden crap to really get us all in the spirit…
But this year is the first year my toddler is taking notice.
She’s nearly three and suddenly… I have to start actually explaining things. And actually creating some magic. And actually fighting off a pack of nine-year-olds using my best diving/biting abilities to get the last Elsa snow-glow doll in the wider Hampshire area…
Yes. #WallyChristmas has truly arrived. Here’s my tips on how to survive:
- Buy at least three advent calendars. You can’t be expected to resist temptation for 25-bloody-festive days?! THAT WOULD BE INSANITY.
- All biscuits should come in yards now… Yards… #thatisall *nods without blinking*
- You can’t actually watch ‘Elf’ too many times. It never stops being funny. NEVER. You should remember that when your ‘main present’ turns out to be another f@*king pasta necklace.
- No matter what you buy the toddler it’ll be old news by Boxing Day… If I took a shit in a box and wrapped it up she’d be happy. Poking it with a stick for three hours like she does to the ones at the park would probably be the highlight of her day.
- Elf on the shelf can f@*k off. (No I’m not destroying the magic. I’m just sick of my Facebook timeline being full of twatty smug photos of annoying twatty shit.)
- Once you’ve eaten all the purple, green and toffee Quality Street in the tin, this counts as finished. And means you can buy another one. #winning
- Beginning December 1st, you should practise your not-disappointed-face in the mirror ten times a day so you’re ready for your husband’s gift. If it’s an iron or a slow cooker, you are legally entitled to set fire to him.
- This year you’ll be setting festive traditions that will last forever… so remember not to set the bar too high. A mouldy orange in a sock and a Co-op mince pie by the back door seems like my kind of limit to be honest… Magical…
- You are well within your rights to only decorate the top two foot of your tree. And accidentally on purpose lose/misplace all the toddler-made decorations. Call me a bitch, but half-baked-playdoh-snot-handprints on glitter string just isn’t my kind of thing…
- Do you know what’s easier than creating cards for the Grandparents with your child…? Accepting that toddlers are shit at drawing. And making the decorations yourself. With your left hand. Whilst so drunk you can’t see. So no-one can tell the difference… #festivewin
- In between the tears and rows, don’t forget to instagram photos of your entire family smiling in matching Christmas Jumpers/Onesies because that is totally original and absolutely no-one else in the UK will be doing that. Phew.
- Black Friday was a cold run for the Boxing Day sales. I may have got fisted in the face by a telly, and used my enormous pregnancy frame to my advantage, but that’s nothing compared to the damage I can cause with my baby outside my uterus. In a pushchair. Covered in knives. And an axe… It’ll be like robot wars. With hormones. And people’s shins.
- And most importantly, make it easy on yourself – and be slightly drunk from the waist up at all times.