All I Want For Christmas Is…

Having an under-table party. I wasn’t invited.

We’ve all got something we’d like the big bearded man from the North to bring us on the 25th, right? This year my Christmas list is depressingly short. I don’t want clothes because the fanciest place I go to is baby group. I don’t want books cause the last time I read a book was during my first pregnancy. Alcohol and chocolates are both out of the equation. And I have far too many socks already.

So I got to thinking, what would I REALLY like as a mother this year? Aside from all that guff about cheer and happiness and world peace. What would make my life about a zillion times better? Here is my by-no-means-exhaustive-at-all-I-just-wrote-this-while-they-napped-SIMULTANEOUSLY-for-once-HURRAH list:

The ability to go for a shower and not have to stop the water at least five times because I can hear imaginary baby cries. Or just to learn that they’re never crying and it IS just my imagination.

To go to the shops without coming back with some sweets that I had to bribe the toddler with and a new outfit for the baby even though he has more clothes than the Kardashians.

To go out and come back with all the baby socks, dummies and sippy cups I left the house with.

A Sunday morning where you look at the clock and say ‘nah, it’s only half nine, I won’t get up just yet’.

Naps to continue until both children go to school.

Delivery drivers to never arrive when either child is sleeping.

The toddler to decide she wants the first thing I suggest for lunch, not the 47th.

A washing up fairy.

Never to have that awful feeling when you lose sight of your kid at soft play, frantically search for them for a minute and then they suddenly appear in a place you’ve already looked five times.

For them to finally make the episode of Bing where Flop finally flips and tells him what an ungrateful, whiny little nause he is.

Failing all that, just no tantrums for a week.

Failing all that, just no tantrums for a day.

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

Christmas Isn’t For Toddlers

While it’s generally accepted that Christmas is a very child-focused time of year, there are actually some aspects of the festive season which are basically the very opposite of ideal for a toddler:

  • Not touching stuff: we put the tree up over the weekend. I wasn’t that bothered about having one and pointed out the potential for disaster when combining a 15 month old and a huge prickly thing adorned with lots of glass things – but Dylan insisted and said I was being a grinch. Two days in and I’m already pretty fed up of the whole ‘NO. DON’T TOUCH. BE CAREFUL’ routine – it’s just one more thing in our house that I have to try and stop Alexandra destroying. It’s also very sweet that she likes to take the baubles off the tree and present them to me with a sticky outstretched hand while saying ‘there’. But equally slightly undermines the amount of time I spent placing the damn things on the tree in the first place.
  • Waiting: if you’ve ever met/owned/been within 50 foot of a toddler, you’ll know they don’t do waiting. Patience is not one of their many virtues, that’s why they have to make them cute. So the very concept of waiting to open presents, waiting for Santa to come, waiting to open a new advent calendar door each day rather than eating them in one go, it just doesn’t really fit. Cue much pointing at the advent calendar – when actually she should be grateful because mommy didn’t get one AGAIN this year (not bitter).
  • Busy shops: sitting in the pram while it’s not moving is not one of Alex’s strong points anymore, gone are the days when she’d merrily sit down and look around for ages. Now she can walk she just wants to be off exploring. So when the shops are so busy that you’re at a standstill for 20 minutes while Mabel decides which card to send to her great niece in Australia, it can be a pretty testing time for all involved.
  • Men with beards: No one likes to sit on an old, fat man’s knee (well maybe some people do). We actively discourage this for 11 months of the year then suddenly in December, that’s it kid you go tell that grumpy man fuming at his wife for volunteering him for this what you’d like to open on Christmas Day.

Harriet and Alexandra x