Christmas Treats

Father Christmas was very kind to our household this year, we all had lots of lovely treats.

There were a few treats we could’ve done without though.

You may remember that we were plagued by coughs and colds at the beginning of December. I thought we were on the mend but at 3am on Christmas morning came a really fun twist (not really fun but I’m trying to pretty things up here).

We woke up to change and feed Thing 4, all quite normal so far. Hubby was downstairs making the bottle while I changed the nappy on the bed (Thing 3 was also in bed with us as she always ends up in there before the night is over). I had just undone Thing 4’s nappy when I heard gagging next to me, I looked across to Thing 3 who was throwing up huge chunks of stinky puke all over Bears side of the bed. I quickly pulled her hair back and began rubbing her back to soothe her but then I realised Thing 4 had her bits out and could pee or poo over me at any moment!

After a quick nappy change hubby came to my rescue and helped clear the mess up as I stifled more than a few giggles at the fact she puked on his side rather than mine. *Does evil laugh*

So that started our day off beautifully, treat 1 done and massively enjoyed… not.

Then on Christmas afternoon, after we’d received some treats that we actually did enjoy, Thing 3 was crouched in the hallway playing with her new toys when we were overwhelmed by the most rancid smell I have ever had the displeasure of smelling. We all looked at each other, clearly thinking the turkey farts had started early this year, before realising that the smell was coming from the hallway. Poor Thing 3 had literally exploded. The watery crap was all down her legs, over her feet and, the very best part, all over the floor. Yay. Merry fucking Christmas.

Christmas 2016 will be forever etched in our minds as the year of the unwanted treats.

For anyone who may be concerned, Thing 3 received lots of love and cuddles and is slowly making her recovery after infecting the rest of the household with her treats.

The saga continues…


Don’t Deliver To My Back Door

This year I made the genius decision to do all of my Christmas shopping online – there’s no way I would choose to go shopping at this manic time of year with 2 kids under the age of 3 in tow. I felt really smug about my idea, quite cocky in fact.

Then I realised what I had done. I realised that I had about 50 billion parcels on the way and I’d actually have to stay at home to receive them. No popping out to Costa for my regular caffeine hit (I have 4 kids, caffeine is pretty much the only thing getting me through each day). No swanning off to visit family members so that I’m not solely responsible for Thing 3 for a couple of hours (she really does require a tag team of adults to keep her under control) and definitely no sneaking out for lunch to save me the hassle of finding something in the cupboard that meets Thing 3’s approval.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, there seems to be a special group of delivery people who think it’s perfectly acceptable to wander through our back garden and deliver to the back door. Now I think this is a chuffing rude thing to do anyway – I wouldn’t dream of just walking into someone’s back garden, that’s their personal space in my opinion.

But it’s even worse in our case:

The massive dog has free run of the back garden and we have a sign on the back gate informing people of this. ‘Do not enter. Dog loose in garden’ I mean how sodding difficult is it to look at the sign and not bloody well enter??

If they get lucky and the massive dog is indoors it causes me a whole shitload of aggravation because now the dog can see a stranger coming into our garden and he goes batshit crazy.

His barking obviously wakes up Thing 4 who has usually only just gone to sleep and is now screaming at the top of her lungs because the bastard dog has just totally ruined her nap.

Then, as the dickhead delivery person starts knocking on the back door, somehow I’ve got to get the angry dog out of the room so he doesn’t lose his shit with the idiot banging on the door, whilst simultaneously shushing Thing 4 and trying not to trip over Thing 3 who is jumping around making her own barking noises.

Then I’m expected to be polite to the person who has caused all this crap. Believe me when I say it takes everything I have not to shove the parcel up their arse!

I’d just like to point out here that the dog might be massive but he is a complete gentleman, a gentle giant if you will. He just doesn’t like unexpected visitors in his personal space and, as you can probably tell, I feel the same way.

I’m still waiting for 100s of parcels so I’m sending out a plea to all you delivery people out there – DON’T DELIVER TO MY BACK DOOR!

Christmas Tree Hell

Have you ever heard the phrase ‘like a red rag to a bull’? Well that’s exactly what a Christmas tree is to a 2-year-old.

Thing 3 has been on a permanent high ever since we fished out our fake snow-covered tree. I have to admit that she already had feral tendencies but now that the Christmas tree has been erected (can’t help but giggle at that word, no I haven’t quite grown up yet) the feralness has turned up several notches.

Not only do we have frigging fake snow all over the floor (whose genius idea was it to get a snowy tree anyway?) but we also have baubles and beads flying in all directions. It’s not much fun standing on a sparkly star let me tell you. Honestly who actually thinks it’s sensible to make a tree decoration as sharp as a pissing scalpel? But then who actually thinks it’s sensible to buy the sodding things? Oh yes, apparently at some point I thought all of the above things were a good idea. *Rolls eyes*

So anyway, it’s been up one day and I already want to throw it out the chuffing window!

I can’t even remember how many times I’ve threatened to take it down or told her that Santa won’t bring her presents if she keeps being a little bugger (obviously I said pickle instead of bugger but I was bloody well thinking the other word).

I’ve even made a deal with her – “you can play with the baubles as long as you put them back on the tree when you’re finished”. I think that’s massively reasonable of me. I know that my tree is gonna look like shit by Christmas Day but if she could please pick up after herself then I’m perfectly ok with it. Job done, or not. I may as well talk to a brick wall.

It’s gonna be a long December!