Christmas Quicktakes

1. The younger kids got out of school today at 12 o'clock, and have been high on selection boxes and  excitement ever since. Actually though, they came home yesterday afternoon and assured me that their respective teachers had thoughtfully told them that they needn't bother coming in today- they should just have a nice long lie in instead. Aye right, like either of those two scenarios is ever going to happen.  So I was all 'Hmmmm, okay then, stay off if you like...but I've a list of jobs you'll be helping me with....and you'd just be playing and watching DVDs in school. Totally up to you though!' Needless to say, they decided to go into school.  Yours Truly, 1. Teachers, nil, I think.

Our Anna (14) and Rosa (1 week)

2. Welcome to the world, little miss Rosa Elizabeth Anne, my newest niece, and isn't she beautiful? Here's the oldest and youngest grandchildren together.... and there's sixteen more in between! They'll all be here on  Christmas morning, along with with my five siblings, their five spouses and our parents. Something tells me it's gonna be loud, crazy and a whole lot of fun!













3. I got my nails done this week for Christmas and I've been sneaking admiring glances at them ever since. You likey? They even stood up to making pastry, and  I'm pleased to report that they survived the ordeal unscathed... which is just as well really, cos let's face it,  no one wants a diamante bow in their mince pie.


4. Its been a week of lists, which I work my way through, then score out (or actually delete off my phone).  The problem is that as quick as I 'make mincepies', 'write cards', 'wrap presents', it's deleted and instantly replaced with something else. Today it's 'do Tesco shop','research city break', (sadly not for me) 'write blogpost', 'make pasta dish', 'shave legs'.  And I'm writing this first, obvs, so the legs may or may not make the cut, so to speak, if you will.

5. Finally, in the midst of all the madness here's a little musical treat for you.  It's my very favourite Christmas carol, and almost five years ago my sister Mary (baby Rosa's mammy) sang it had her own wedding. Imagine that! It was so very special, absolutely beautiful (as was she), and I'll always remember it as one of 'those moments'. Unfortunately, I don't have footage of her singing, but here's the next best thing- the Celtic so enjoy!
Finally, finally, a very Happy Christmas to you all, my lovelies, wherever you are and whoever you're with, I really hope it's a great one. Much love, Emma xx

Christmas Craft Much?

I'm gonna come right out and say it-I'm just not into doing arts and crafts with the kids. Does it make me a bad person because I actually wince when I get requests to 'take down the painting box' ? That the thought of making pasta necklaces brings me out in a cold sweat, and I've never made play dough in my life?
And yet, unbelievably, I've still managed to give birth to a child who swooned when he got his own Sellotape dispenser for his birthday, and regards every piece of recycling as an key piece in his latest crafting project.  A frequent exchange between us usually goes something like this....

Rory(in bewilderment  'Mammy how did this beautiful ornament (ketchup bottles and egg boxes taped together) that I made for you, end up in the outside bin?'
Me in 'puzzled dismay' 'Oh no! Surely not? Daddy must have put it in by mistake!' (Yep, I just threw him under the bus-karma's gonna get me) ' Let's put it back up again....for now.'

And no, I'll never forget the time a few years back, when another child, who shall not be named, secretly decided to make a little 'person' out of the rubbish in the upstairs bathroom bin. It was then proudly unveiled during Sunday lunch with the In Laws and on closer inspection included not only a toilet roll holder for the body, and used tissues for hair, but discarded tampon applicators for legs and arms... I'm shuddering even now at the memory.

Anyway, I've  completely digressed because this was supposed to be a post about teachers' Christmas gifts!
So drumroll please...and feast your eyes upon my gorgeous festive jars of gingerbread mix. Yes indeed, behold a real life Christmas miracle because despite my complete lack of flair for all things crafty, I've actually managed to produce a gift I'd like to get myself...which is surely the point after all?
So thankfully, this year there'll be no last minute rushing round M&S for the 'three for two' toiletry offers, because as you can see I'm all over it like a rash.


 I'd love to say that I thought up the whole idea myself but tempting though that is, it would be a downright lie. And anyway, I'd probably be outed by all those swotty crafting blogs, so I'll just come clean and tell you that I got the idea from my blogging mate Sarah's other blog. (She's actually got three...I'd hate her if I didn't love her!)

I bought the jars from Ikea for £1 each (bargain!) and picked up the ribbon and labels and cookie cutters here and there.
So, what’s in the mix?  You will need 375g plain flour, 1 tsp bicarb of soda, 2 tsp ground ginger and 90g light, soft brown sugar.  Just combine until evenly mixed and pop it in the jar! Then on the label I wrote the recipe and instructions.

Ingredients:
1 quantity of gingerbread mix
125g chopped, unsalted butter
230g golden syrup
80g sifted icing sugar

To make:
Preheat oven to 180ºC.
Put gingerbread mix, butter and syrup into a food processor and pulse until it forms a smooth dough.  
Wrap in clingfilm and refrigerate for 30 mins. Roll out the dough between two pieces of baking parchment until 0.5cm thick.  Cut into shapes and place on lined baking sheet.
Bake for 8-10 mins until golden.  Allow to cool.
Mix 80g icing sugar with 2tsp hot water and mix until smooth.  Decorate the biscuits as you wish.  Enjoy!

 Tah dah! You're welcome. Just call me Kirstie Allsopp.
 Laters lovelies, Emx 

Santa's On His Way......

Friday Quicktakes

1. In the car yesterday, Anna was telling us about a joint English/ History project for school, in which she has to pick a person- anyone at all, dead or alive, famous or not, and make a persuasive argument for how they displayed courage and influence. She wasn't sure who to choose and we chatted briefly about courage and examples of it. Then later, we heard the news that Nelson Mandela had died and suddenly her choice seemed obvious, for who more worthy than he? RIP Mr Mandela.


2. We're putting up our Christmas decorations tonight and, would you believe, I'm in the doghouse already? Pour quoi? Because this year I committed the grievous sin of quietly ordering an artificial tree. I mean, honestly! You'd have thought I'd told them Christmas was cancelled and Santa wasn't coming by the looks on their faces.
'What's that? What? A fake tree? Noooooo! Is it tiny? I bet you it's titchy! We only love big trees!'  Eh,Yeah I know.  Last year's Griswald-esque one was only flippin'18 feet tall but I'm the only one who remembers the stupendous needle drop.
So then I tried explaining that it was no ordinary fake tree - it was a snow tipped Laurence Llewellyn Bowen inspired tree-luxuriant and a bit camp, rather like Mr LLB himself, now I think of it- but they weren't remotely impressed. There could well be a stand off later but I'll keep you posted.


3. Update- I went to my class yesterday, got back my assignment and was really pleased with my
mark and the tutor's encouraging words. It's definitely inspired me to keep writing.
Now part of me was still busy thinking- 'Behave yourself! It's just a short story. It doesn't make you flippin' Marian Keyes so get a grip.' But the other part just wanted to run home with it and tell my Mammy.....So that's just what I did. And in true Mammy style she put me over exactly what the tutor said five or six times, and then wrote it down word for word to tell her friends/ family/ dogs on the street later. I suppose some things never change and I'm very glad they don't.


4. Always on the look out for purveyors of fine tray bakes and unlimited coffee refills, three-year-old Luke and I arranged to meet Herself (Mammy/Nana) in a place we'd never frequented before. We walked in and Luke was assessing it all- the Christmas decorations, the smells, the impressive selection of goodies- and then he turned to me, nodded approvingly and said, 'Good choice, Mummy.'  (That's ma boy!)

5. Finally, when we lived in the US, I listened to a radio station rather embarrassingly called  WASH-FM - Soft Rock, and for a whole month, from the day after Thanksgiving, until Christmas Day they would play only Christmas songs 24/7 -Well, I LOVED it! It totally put me in the Christmas mood and I got to hear every Christmas song under the sun- who knew there were so many Country ones? Anyway, the first time I heard this one, I could hardly drive the car I was crying so much...in my defense, I think I was pregnant at the time. So here it is, a big slice of Christmas cheese maybe.....but still guaranteed to bring a wee tear to my eye every single time.
Enjoy and have  a good weekend , my Lovelies xxxxx

The Christmas Pudding

Today I'm making Christmas pudding, following my Granny's recipe, written in her own handwriting, which always makes me feel a little sad and  wistful for Christmas' past, but very grateful that I have this piece of her to share with her great grandchildren here today. They may not have known her, but they DO know and love her pudding....for various reasons!
Here's my Christmas pudding memories from last year...

Granny and me

When I look back at Christmas' past, (and is it just me, or do we look back MORE as we get older?), an integral part of it all was Granny's Christmas pudding. Not just the eating of it, although that was pretty great, but the annual ritual of preparing it, mixing it and cooking it.

Growing up, Granny was like a second mother to me - it didn't matter that she had 11 children of her own, I was her first grandchild and she always made me feel special and important - unsurprisingly, I spent as much time there as I possibly could.

Every year about mid November, Granny started the mammoth task of making Christmas puddings for her children and their families. First, there was the buying of industrial quantities of ingredients, and then the soaking of  fruit in Guinness and brandy overnight.

 Next day, there was the weighing, mixing and stirring of several huge basins of pudding mixture, followed by the filling of the bowls, then covering them with greaseproof paper and tying them up with string. Finally, and most time consuming of all, was the 12-14 hours steaming of each one. This took MAJOR commitment -  she often got up several times during the night to top up the water in the saucepans. When they were eventually distributed to each family, I often wondered if they all knew just how much effort had gone into each and every one.

Of course, the best part of all was the eating of it. After being steamed again on Christmas Day, it was almost black in colour, (on account of all that Guinness!), and  heavy, rich and delicious when served up with fresh cream and brandy butter on the side. A veritable heart attack on a plate.

My three brothers in particular, put away vast quantities of the stuff - they LOVED the fact that as an added bonus it made them fart... a lot. Even more than usual, in fact,  which was quite a feat - to them it was a gift that kept on giving,  if you like. The leftover pudding (we always got an enormous one), was wrapped in tinfoil and gradually eaten over the holidays. Actually, it was often just nibbled straight from the fridge and Christmas wouldn't have been the same without it.

Granny died in March 1999, just a few months before our Anna, her first great grandchild was due. There had been great excitement on both sides of the Atlantic when she agreed to come and visit us that summer in Virginia, but tragically it just wasn't meant to be. Later when Anna was born, I found it comforting to think that she had lovingly held her even before we did. I miss her still.

So it's a little bit special to have her handwritten pudding recipe in front of me now and it's an honour to follow in her footsteps with this Christmas tradition.
 I'll not lie -there's been a few disasters - for instance,  several years ago, I committed the unforgivable error of letting the pans boil dry. That combined with the use of plastic pudding bowls meant an unprecedented pudding disaster. Unless you prefer your pudding with melted polymers, of course.
 Thankfully, the birds didn't seem to mind - I just picked out the plastic and they feasted like kings and that year we had the fattest robins for miles around.

This year I wisely stuck to glass and ceramic bowls, and thanks to Mr Google I also finally worked out how to steam them in the Aga - sooooo much easier, no pesky topping up required and now I'm kicking myself that I didn't realise this before.

And On Christmas Day I'll take a piece and remember my Granny and if it tastes half as good as hers did, I'll be very happy ...(that said, with four boys, we could possibly live without the 'hilarious' side effect of enhanced flatulence!)

Happy Christmas Granny   xxxxx

Merry Christmas to All

'Christmas! The very word brings joy to our hearts. No matter how we may dread the rush, the long Christmas lists for gifts and cards to be bought and given--when Christmas Day comes there is still the same warm feeling we had as children, the same warmth that enfolds our hearts and our homes.'

Joan Winmill Brown

A very very Happy Christmas from my house to yours today and thanks a million for stopping by this year. (And now......I'm off to peel the spuds!)
Much love, Emx

Christmas Quick Takes

1. There are certain things that even with the hustle and bustle of last minute deliveries, gift fueled panic, and end of term excitement, grounds me, and makes me really feel Christmas. Right here, inside. One of these was the school carol service that Anna sang in this week. Something happens when I listen to the beautiful Adeste Fideles and I was even able to sing the descant part in the third verse from my own choir days all those years ago!
It certainly wasn't without its trying moments mind you, probably because it was the evening and the wee ones were tired. Rory, for example, opted to prostrate himself on the floor for the entire service, studying the end of the kneeler intently, leaping  up only when he heard the opening strains of 'Away in a Manger'. At that point,  he belted out all three verses before immediately resuming  lying position again.  He only roused himself again at the very end when the words  'refreshments in the parish hall' were whispered in his ear. I take no pride at all in the fact that all 4 boys then shamelessly proceeded to eat their own weight in mince pies. At last count Cormac admitted to six.


2. I bought this seasonal fire guard yesterday in our local garden centre and seriously, who knew I could feel this much love for such a mundane safety device? Obviously, a fire had to be immediately lit in the grate so that it could be fully appreciated in all its working glory.....and I have to say it didn't disappoint. Don't knock it till you've tried it.


3. An update on my teachers' presents conundrum - you know that friend I told you about, the one who assured me that this year she was giving the whole 'teachers' presents' thing a bye- ball? Well, mere moments before the end of term, I learned that she had in fact bought all round her, as usual. She had so many she actually  needed a shopping trolley to deliver them around the school. (Okay, I may have made that last part up...but still!) So what did I do? Did I stick to my guns and my original plan to go big in June? Nope, I totally bottled it, rushed home and hastily wrapped and delivered those stashed Joules handsets.  What can I say, except that  peer pressure's a bitch!

4. That said, I've decided to do it all differently next year. This week my good friend Kim thoughtfully indulged my weakness and made me home made caramel squares as part of my Christmas present.  Which incidentally were To. Die. For. Between that, and Sarah Miles lovely gift idea, I'm inspired. No more Boots 3 for 2 deals for me! Next year, I'm going all Nigella / 'vintage with a twist'. Who knows, I  may even wear a pinny!


5. Finally, I'm on the radio tomorrow. (you know I'm totally screaming and jumping up and down right now!) I didn't tell you before in case they did an Irish News on me, but two weeks ago I was interviewed for 'Your Place or Mine' on BBC Radio Ulster and its on there tomorrow morning!! The downside? It's dead early. Between eight and nine am. So if you've any wit, you'll be sleeping off a Christmas hangover, but if you ARE unfortunate enough to be up, you can tune in to hear my five minutes of (relative) fame. My mum is texting all her mates as we speak so that's a good twelve or thirteen already.
Happy last weekend before Christmas one and all.xxxx

Teachers' Presents

Today I decided to focus on a seasonal conundrum facing many of us at this time of year- the thorny topic of teachers' presents. Over coffee and mince pies yesterday,  a couple of us tried very hard to reach some kind of  agreement on this complicated issue once and for all .....and failed miserably.

 Everyone has their own thoughts on the matter. Do you buy a present for your child's teacher at Christmastime,  or at the end of the school year, or both? What about the class room assistants? The school secretary? The principal? And that's just for starters-don't forget  the judo/ piano/ drumming/ tennis teachers too! You get the picture- so where do you start? And stop?

In the primary school, we, (and by 'we', I mean 'me'), do the 'Shoe Box Appeal'.  A month or so before Christmas, we wrap and fill several shoeboxes with  toys and goodies to be sent to children in Africa. The school states very clearly that this is INSTEAD of buying Christmas presents for teachers, and although time consuming, it certainly seems much more relevant than yet another scented candle for Mrs X.

 Simple, or so you'd think,  but what ACTUALLY happens is that lots of parents quietly give two fingers to those sensible guidelines, and at the last minute smugly produce beautifully wrapped  presents for everybody and their dogs. Which then of course, sends the rest of us into a right old panic because now WE look suspiciously like tight arses, and let's face it, NO mummy wants to wear THAT particular crown.

So now we're on the horns of a dilemma and it's time to run through our limited options -
a) stick to your guns, brazen it out and overcompensate for your faux pas in June with the handwash AND  the bottle of wine.
 b) scavenge around at the last minute, thanking God you had the foresight to stash away those '3 for 2' 'Soap and Glory' sets, or
c) most pitifully of all, with no more gifts to re-gift, you're left to hoke through the last bits of old tat in the local chemist, frantically wrapping them in the car before the final school run.
Personally, I've done all of the above.

But this year, I decided early on to just bite the bullet- do the shoeboxes AND give the presents and that was grand.....until I had a chat about it with a certain friend, (You know who you are!) who historically, is the worst offender when it comes to landing the rest of us with the gift buying guilts. She normally buys for EVERYONE, (including the dinner lady), but  informed me that, no, this year she was doing the shoebox appeal and only getting teachers' summer presents. Eh, hello? As its this very same friend who sparked my panicked  tailspin down the chemist  more than once, the uncharitable part of me is tempted to just let it slip in the dying moments of term,  that I'm actually doing both this year myself...but honestly,  its up to her and I'm sure the teacher won't even NOTICE the lack of present, and DEFINITELY wouldn't hold it against the child anyway. But then the other nicer (meaner?) part of me calculates that if Mrs Claus isn't getting them, then it  probably IS overkill, so I'll just hold onto those lovely Joules hand sets till June and say no more about it. What till do?

I also heard about a MUCH more organized system at a different friend's school. Apparently, all 26 parents give in a tenner, and the lucky teacher pockets £260 large ones to spend in the House of Fraser.  A win win all round, I'd say, BUT then again, someone would need to step up to coordinate and organise it and it's already  beginning to seem like waaaaaaaaaaay too much hassle.

No matter what you or I end up doing though, spare a thought for this teacher's recent less fortunate gift experience. A child in her class brought in a large envelope with a present inside, which she left on the teacher's desk. Later, while the class was busy, the teacher idly picked it up, glanced inside and before she knew it the entire envelope and its contents were vibrating quietly in her hand. Those of a delicate disposition should stop reading now, because yes, you've guessed it -the child had indeed discovered and re-gifted this lucky teacher with her mummy's golden hued bedroom toy. Wrong on so many levels.....and  just imagine the excruciating mortification for all concerned, when it was discreetly returned to its rightful owner later that day....
Kinda puts the whole 'present thing' into some perspective, eh! Catch ya later, Emmaxx

Hitting pause.

There's loads of stuff going through my mind at the moment. I could talk to you about how depressing it feels to watch the riots in Belfast played out on the TV, the terrible effect it's all having on the Christmas trade here, the damage to the city's fragile reputation and the fear that we're somehow taking an unwelcome step back into troubled days gone by. All because of a flag. Where on earth will it end?

I could also tell you about my old friend's mother who passed away suddenly this week, and the deep sadness I feel for her. I spent lots of time in their home as a child and those bittersweet memories are trickling back. What sorrow now for her family, perhaps even more raw at Christmastime.

I could talk about my cousin and dearest friend Maryrose, who died just before Christmas four years ago, leaving a young family and a loving husband behind her. A terrible loss of a short life that was blessedly lived to the full. An aching, gaping hole that she once filled so beautifully.

And yet despite all of this, here and for now, our little world still turns- there's presents to be bought, meals to be made, uniforms to be washed, carols to be sung. Life pauses in tragedy.... and carries on regardless. It's both a curse and a  grace- the distractions and minutiae of our daily life drag us along with them and very, very slowly, the inner pain lessens. We carry on, not unscathed, nor without scars but still here. And possibly with a greater appreciation for today and for those we love. Sometimes anyway.

But today, I'm definitely not going to talk about any of that, because right now, I'm going to go and put on another load of washing after the vomit-athon we enjoyed here last night and then I'll do the school runs and the homeworks,  and maybe later on I'll go to a wake. And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow I'm going to take myself into Belfast with Loverboy and we're going to enjoy our great city at Christmas time, and ignore the rest... for a little while anyway.  Because life goes on.

Christmas Prep

Made me laugh!

Whoa- is it just me or are we seriously ramping up into Christmas mode now? It may be only early December, and the big day is still nearly three weeks away, but I'm detecting a definite whiff of panic in the air. The fact that we haven't bought the tree yet, nor got a single decoration down from the attic is unusual, odd even, because it looks like everyone else has!

When we lived in the US, and folks traditionally put their trees up the day after Thanksgiving, it seemed shockingly early... but not any more. Am I sounding a bit 'bah humbug' about it all? Don't answer that... but while I'm on a roll, here's another one- the taking down of trees almost as soon as Christmas Day is over. What is that about? It's a SEASON for goodness sake! Twelve days of Christmas and all that, and, seriously, there are few sights more forlorn than an abandoned tree on Boxing Day. That said, conversely, leaving it up too long is another no no- friends of ours had a desperate habit of leaving the tree up till Valentines Day, which is just wrong...and downright lazy. And yes, I realize that I'm sounding suspiciously like the Christmas Tree police, (Special Branch- geddit?), so I'll zip it...for now.

Other preparations? Well, I've booked my pre- Christmas Tesco delivery slot-  those slots are like gold dust and fill up fast but they're sooooo worth it. Never more so than a few years ago, when it was -13 outside, and the lovely Tesco man STILL made it out to us in the sticks! How we would've survived Christmas without that garguantuan cereal and toilet roll drop, just doesn't bear thinking about. (He DID admit though that he'd made the extra special effort because he thought we were an old people's home but still.... that's dedication for you!)

What else? I'm in the middle of writing my Christmas cards. Loverboy didn't manage to get a cheesy Christmas letter done in time this year but honestly, I reckon Facebook ticks that box now anyway. Plus, it makes them heavier and after dropping £50 on stamps this morning, I'm all about saving the rainforest.

I also spent a day cleaning and clearing  the toy room of junk/big plastic toys. Top tip- if at all possible do this job in the middle of the night, or at the very least, use black bags so your precious angels can't see what you're sneaking in there for charity/ bin/ other people's toy rooms. Start clearing and suddenly even the crappy Mc Donald's toys become beloved childhood heirlooms that they can't bear to be parted from. But somehow I managed it, and for a few short weeks I'm pathetically enjoying the sight of colour coded toy boxes and plenty of shelving space.

Present wise *whispers* I think we're almost sorted, which is great. And yet....I always have an uneasy feeling that I've forgotten something or someone important. Which is nonsense, I mean I've made the list, I've checked it twice...but still, I can't shake it off. It's the same story every year, and honestly it only ever leads to  unnecessary spending, which you KNOW I'm totally against, (except obviously in the case of absolute necessities ....like shoes or handbags.)

Guess who?

So, logically the next step, even though it's still a fraction too early, is putting up the Christmas decorations this weekend. I'll also be getting my Christmas playlist sorted, making the first batch of mulled wine and most thrillingly of all, revealing this year's seasonal toilet rolls. Meanwhile, Loverboy will be off to get the tree, which is actually more dangerous than it sounds. A few years ago, he dragged home a monster sixteen foot tree which we could hardly get upright. He said it looked much smaller in the field, which beside the twenty foot ones, it probably did.  I, on the other hand, am all about the small but perfectly formed, non shedding variety, or better again, an artificial one complete with snowy branches and lights. But this year, given that its probably our last one living in the country, Christmas tree-wise, he can knock himself out. So be afraid, my lovelies, be very afraid....

Delivery!

So, there I was this morning,  iPad on knee, coffee in hand, when the house beepers alerted me to someone arriving outside.
 Turns out it was my friendly, local, delivery man who appears to do ALL the internet deliveries around these parts, and as a result,  I've got to know him per-itty well.
As usual, he happily popped round to the back door,  had a good old nosy through the kitchen window and clocked me on my iPad.
He's a bit of a cheeky chappie, you see, and we always have a bit of craic- the last time I opened the door, he greeted me with, 'It's a big one this time. Get it away up the stairs before yer husband sees it!'
 So this morning, when I opened the door to to sign the electronic thingy,  he quips,
' Penning your big novel, are you?'
' Oh yes,' says I, ready for him, How'd you know?'
  'Sure, didn't I read all about it in the Guardian! ( Steady now- that would be the Antrim Guardian, not the ACTUAL Guardian, but still, it took the wind right outta MY sails.)
'What?'  I stammered back.
 'Yep', says he, grabbing the upper hand, 'You were away in London for something or other? Housewives? Or something? Anyway, congratulations!'
'Thank you!' I gathered myself, 'I didn't even know it was in there! Maybe if I actually bought the Guardian now and again, eh!'
 He laughed and then off he went but closing the door, I quickly discovered that the package WAS'NT actually mine at all, so I ran out after him, but he was already careering off up the lane at a fierce rate.
 Five minutes later though and the beepers went again, and there he was back with my ACTUAL package- a plain brown 'Toys R Us' box, (Shhhhhh!), so I handed him back the 'Next' one.
'Oh Aye', I accused him, 'You just assumed that one had to be for me as well, didn't you? Hmmm?'
He laughed agreeably, totally caught on,
'Yeah well, YOU should've known you didn't order anything from Next!'
Drat, he was right...I'd quietly assumed it was a tipsy late night purchase.
'That's true', I conceded grudgingly, 'Sure, I thought I had and had just forgotten about it!'
He laughingly shook his head, clearly relishing his moment, and then headed off, calling over his shoulder as he went,
 'Christmas is coming- I'll be seeing you again soon,  I'm sure.'
 Cheeky sod- Right again. AND he knew it too. Drat and double drat.

What's your Poison?

On Sunday morning we caught a mouse in a trap under the kitchen sink. And by we, of course I don't actually mean me- I was far too busy standing on a chair screaming Tom and Jerry stylee. The little fecker got his leg caught in a trap, and then proceeded to drag the trap underneath the kitchen cupboard, where he squeaked and wriggled and created such a distraction, it put Cormac right off his breakfast. Which absolutely never happens.
 The only way for us, ( NOT me-as if!), to get at him, was to take the plinth off the front of the cupboard and suck the horrid creature AND the trap out with the Hoover. Obviously Himself then did what any normal person would do-he threw the whole lot into my mop bucket, got out the camera and took plenty of photos.
After which, I naturally assumed we, (I COULD have done this bit), would bash him squarely over the head with a brick, but instead Loverboy made the rash decision to release him from the trap, whereupon the fecker ran off back into the field, as fast as his gammy leg could carry him.
Now, can you just imagine the story he told his mates? He'll be eating out on it  for the rest of his life for goodness sake  - he'll probably write a book, sell the movie rights-  he's on the pig's back! (metaphorically speaking)
 God, I HATE mice and it happens every Autumn-our house is surrounded by fields, which in turn are jam packed with mice. Combine that with the chill in the air, the warmth of the kitchen and the kids leaving the back door open ALL THE TIME, and we may as well just issue an open house to the entire mouse population of Glenavy.
Then, on top of that, this morning I got a text, (A text! I ask you!), from Anna's school to say that headlice had been discovered in her year group, and it advised me to check my child's hair. Well, my blood just ran cold right there because, much as I loathe mice, I'm undoubtedly on the OCD spectrum when it comes to headlice. Thankfully, we haven't had them for a number of years *touches wood repeatedly* but just the thought of them makes me shudder.
It brings me right back to Christmas Day 2005 (Christmas DAY, FTLOG!) We had just moved out to the country, (major stress),  I was 9 months pregnant with Rory (even more stress), and I was getting the older three ready to go visit relations, before hosting dinner for 16, (stress +++).   Then I found the lice AND with them my tipping point, and that was that. Christmas was immediately cancelled and the entire day was instead spent fine combing, delousing and weeping. It was horrendous, and it probably didn't help that we'd also had mice the week before, so I was ready for the hills.
The time prior to that, was in 2001 when we were living in America. Anna was two and Jude was 8 weeks old.  We were all due to fly home later that day for his Christening, when I  discovered, to my utter horror that Anna's ginger curls were walking....and so the wheels began to come off.
First,  I rushed to the supermarket for the special delousing shampoo for her, but then I panicked about whether or not I should treat Jude as well, even though, in hindsight, he was entirely bald. But in that skewed moment,  it seemed perfectly reasonable to me to phone the 1800 LICE number on the back of the bottle and implore the poor woman on the other end for advice.  And although I'm fairly certain she was well trained on the side effects and treatment times of her product, she was woefully unprepared for the oversharing, sleep deprived, Irish madwoman on the other end of the phone, crying about colic and flights and newborns and  feeds, oh, and headlice. Not my finest hour, and as you can imagine it's all left me with a bit of a phobia in that department.
Truthfully,  I 'm MILITANT about Anna wearing her hair up in school, I switch channels if the headlice ads come on the TV,  and I literally cannot look at  pictures of a magnified louse without feeling sick. But needs must ...I've got that text from the school, so  I HAVE to do a check later whether I like it or not...and just talking about it now makes me want to scratch...Ugh!
What about you?  If you HAD to pick-  Mice or lice- what would it be? Go on, choose your poison...

Bah Humbug!

I'm just not feeling the Christmas spirit. I hope it'll creep up on me, because right now, I feel like I'm going through the motions for everyone else, and it all seems like a big old chore. When did that happen? The other night, as I tried to muster up a bit of enthusiasm for the Christmas tree lights switch on in the village? Or standing in the freezing cold for half an hour beforehand, only to have Luke burst into inconsolable, frightened tears, when it did eventually light up? Or maybe after that, when we argued over whether to queue outside the church hall to see Santa or head home? Undeterred, we did wait..only to finally get inside to encounter coils of others ahead of us, queuing to see, a frankly, crap looking Santa. So no, I'm not looking  forward to putting up the tree, I'm dreading it, and as for the Christmas cards, I haven't even started them yet, and you know what...I can't be arsed. What the hell is wrong with me? When did it all become too much bother?

I have another confession to make- my secret fantasy is to spend Christmas- alone -in a 5* hotel. Does this make me a bad person? I've really fleshed it out too- think crackling log fires, heavy garlands, flickering candles, carol singers (too much?), mulled wine, a four poster and most wonderfully of all, nothing to do except relax with books, magazines and the remote control. Then, a gorgeous Christmas dinner in a beautiful dining room with white tablecloths, expensive crackers and no highchairs. No gravy to make, no turkey to carve, no wrapping paper to recycle, no dishes to do.

Now, I know it's only an indulgent fantasy, and therein lies its allure. I'm 100% certain that if I were alone at Christmas, all the luxury in the world would suddenly become worthless, and my only wish would be to have all my family around me. Definitely, 90% certain of that. Truthfully, I really am very, very grateful for all the blessings that I've been given, and I know what I need to do and I WILL do it all. I just want to feel the sparkle a little while I'm doing it...and nope, I've just checked, and it's still not there.

I suppose its partly the daily grind- the everyday pain in the bum stuff that we all have to deal with- the shower being broken, leaking through internal walls and damaging the paintwork in 2 rooms. The hassle of a car being off the road, and a mechanic whose been coming for weeks, and let's face it, we all know it's a write -off anyway. But then, to admit that, means the expense of a new (to us) car and who needs that at Christmas? Much more significantly, my dearest friend and cousin's anniversary is just around the corner- she died 3 years ago and left a husband, four children, and a gaping hole of pain and grief like you wouldn't believe. I think of her every single day and life's so unfair and I can't help wondering why I'm here and she's not.

So, maybe it IS too much to ask for a little bit of the Christmas spirit but there it is.... I always was greedy. It's not that I'm not trying- I've brought out the big guns- the Christmas playlist is on the iPod, the Christmas toilet rolls are in the downstairs loo. I even took the children to see 'Arthur Christmas' yesterday and we're off to see (another, better) Santa tonight and putting up our tree at the weekend. I've got big plans for a viewing of 'Its a Wonderful Life' complete with a tin of Roses, and if that doesn't do it, nothing will! So, if I've rained on your Christmas parade today by being a grinch, I'm genuinely sorry. I promise you I'm working on it. Bah humbug!