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All I Want for Christmas


I’ve quite liked 2015. It’s had its ups and downs, but all in all, it’s been a pretty good one.

It started with maternity leave, a 4 month old baby and a 25 month old diva, and it’s finishing off with our lovely little family just that little bit older and so much easier. We’re all still knackered, but less so. Age has brought sleep, and with that, just bit more sanity.

And the phases! We’ve seen a few: seperation anxiety, olives, green poo, hot wee, Mickey Mouse hair, I HATE OLIVES, scared of the dark, I WANT OLIVES, peeing on the grass, NOT THE GREEN OLIVES, pooing on Waitrose car park.

We’re currently on Christmas tree crumpets and Hello Kitty, but off Fruit Shoots and minions. Livvy, that is. George loves a cheeky Fruit Shoot and an afternoon in front of Gru’s mates, but not Liv. No way. Unity is lunacy, it seems and besides, it’s so much fun seeing mummy cross-eyed from catering to everyone’s whim and fancy.

I’m hoping the Why Phase is called that because it will eventually end. That one’s been going forever. As has Livvy’s obsession with marrying her brother. That’s got be over soon, surely? Otherwise this blog is going to take a very peculiar Waltons-style twist.

But I’m loving the way they each wake up in the morning calling for each other. Livvy grabs armfuls of cuddly toys off her bed and throws them in our room, ready to give to her little brother. And George will wake up shouting, “Livvy!” until she jumps out of bed to open the door and give him a big cuddle. It’s so sweet. That one can last forever.

Christmas is just three days away, and I’m using the time wisely: I’ve almost loaded the dishwasher and I’ve just bought three episodes of Hello Kitty at a cost of £1.89 a pop. George is having a nap and Livvy is happy, so all is momentarily peaceful. That, I’m sure you’ll agree, was six quid-odd wisely invested.

I’m quite calm about Christmas. I think I’m pretty much there. I wouldn’t say I’m a vision of an organised Boden-type lovely, but I’m doing ok: I’ve wrapped the dancing octopus, massive steering wheel thingmy, the inhabitants of Cinderella’s castle and engines of Sodor. I need to pop to Tezzies, but I need to pop to Tezzies every day, so that’s no biggy.

There is a chink in my armour, though. A little confession, if you will: I’ve had to resort faux Peppa Pig sweets (M&S’ Percys), but having fulfilled a million other ridiculous, wild requests more fitting to those of WAG of a Russian Oligarch, I have no guilt. Percy, Peppa, they’re both pigs. Hopefully she won’t notice.

And anyhow. I’m overly bothered by stuff, so my Christmas wishlist isn’t too extravagant. I like holidays and wine and food more than clothes and jewellery and things. I try and invest in nice times and good memories rather than bits and bobs. Although I have an odd obsession with overpriced hand soap? Weird. Anyway, here’s my wishlist:-

1. Wine (amazing and self-explanatory)
2. Gin (amazing and self-explanatory)
3. Champagne (amazing and self-explanatory)
4. To see BBC Breakfast one last time. I hate Noddy, I tolerate Thomas the Tank and Peppa Pig belongs in a pate, so I’m not enjoying my current morning viewing. Don’t get me wrong, BBC Breakfast is no Richard and Judy, but it would be nice for a change.
5. One piece jigsaws. No bits. Just one big picture.
6. To reunite the Fisher Price Cookie Jar with its cookies, the Peppa Pig aeroplane with its passengers, the Little People Zoo with its animals. The disorganisation of the toy box is fast becoming my 3am anxiety.
7. Curry (amazing. Food of kings)
8. To use the blanket box for its intended purpose. Not just shit.
9. For the Disney Princess dolls to have their clothes and shoes on, for the dolls’ house to house dolls, for the pop-up books to pop-up.
10. More boxes to hide the shit.

That’s it.

Merry Christmas lovely people! I wish you sleep, a clean floor, wine, curry and a good box set that you can stay awake to watch.


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