Christmas 2020 – parents behaving badly

It’s hard to believe it’s been two weeks since we celebrated Christmas.

The massive lead up throughout the year of frantic gift buying and stocking up on enough food to feed an army; all over in one day.

I thought I would reflect on Christmas 2020 by looking at the behaviour of adults, particularly my own, on Christmas Day. As if the hysterical, over excited children aren’t enough to contend with, it occurred to me this last Christmas that the older generation’s behaviour needs some attention. 

Once again, I’m poking fun at myself here, but you may be able to relate.

Before I begin however, I thought I might mention an instance that occurred a few Christmas Eve’s back.

As Santa is so busy delivering presents all over the world on Christmas Eve, sometimes he does not have the time nor the elf power to assemble all of the toys in time. So this task is often left up to the parents. 

After enjoying a few celebratory drinks before retiring to bed this particular evening, a certain member of my family decided that it might be an idea to put together the trampoline that had arrived in 6000 separate boxes. 

It was no mean feat and after many hours of reading and destroying instructions, rehydrating and then rehydrating again, the massive jumping apparatus was complete. 

For sheer safety purposes and possibly also for their own pleasure, the said family member decided to test the trampoline and with one very high jump, landing not on the large mat beneath them, but rather down the side of the outer frame and net. Completely stuck, two other equally hydrated onlookers were called upon to retrieve the non-acrobatic test dummy from the sticky situation and repair the damage before the children it was intended for, awoke. 

I think there is a lesson to be learned here which is to allow plenty of time for toy assembly, if required, and also perhaps to hydrate after the said toy has been assembled.

Back to Christmas 2020 though.

Jacked up on a breakfast cocktail of 90% of the Christmas Lollies stocking, (only 90% because “you won’t eat your lunch if you eat the whole lot now!”), a sleep period of about 4 hours, and heightened hysteria after discovering that big box wrapped under the tree was in fact the present they’ve always wanted; kids at Christmas can be a challenge to tolerate! 

The same can be applied to adults as well – I for one chowed down half a jar of Cadbury Chocolate Coated Almonds for breakfast, and I too had only managed about 4 hours sleep! The gift however was no shock, for I had purchased and wrapped my own present. Putting on my best Academy Award Winning Actress performance however, my portrayal of a surprised 44-year-old mother-of-two receiving the new frock she’s always wanted would have made Cate Blanchett proud. It’s always a safe bet to buy your own gift, and besides, that way your other half has no idea how much you’ve spent!

After all the gifts have been unwrapped, it is my job, by default, to bundle up all of the paper and toss it in the bin, being careful not to throw out any gifts with the rubbish.

This is where a little of my OCD comes in (‘my’ OCD is a complete self-diagnosis and I am possibly exaggerating slightly here). Gifts are stacked upon each other into two neat piles, one for each child.

About half way up the pile there sits a jigsaw puzzle and as my son spots it, he leaps at the box, tearing the cellophane covering and just as he is about to rip open the box, I army tackle him to the ground as though he is about to step on a landmine. 

No, there is not a flesh-eating spider under the box that is about to attack him, I am attempting to stop him from making the mistake of OPENING THE BOX THAT CONTAINS THE PUZZLE! 

“Leave that!” I beckon him. 

Irrational Mum has arrived as she has not yet had her coffee, is tired and may be coming down from her 15-minute sugar high from breakfast. 

I realise the puzzle was a gift but, in my state, I’d much prefer if the pieces stayed in the box for him to admire and imagine completed, you know, all nice and neat, rather than him tip it all out across the lounge room floor, about five minutes in get sick of it, and go outside to play with the old toys he hasn’t touched since last Christmas!!

Because the jigsaw was a gift to look at, not complete?? Hmm, that does kind of defeat the purpose of a puzzle doesn’t it??

Now the kids are outside, still in their pyjamas and having a great time. My husband has come to my rescue with a coffee which is thoroughly appreciated. Thirsty, I drink it very quickly and decide to make another. 

Half way through I’m having heart palpitations (common for me when I’m sleep deprived) so I decide to leave the rest. Maybe a little lie down for a Nanna Nap might be an idea? 

I crawl into bed and shut my eyes. 

Just as I am about to nod off into a deep slumber, I am awoken suddenly by number two son jumping on top of me Spiderman-style, desperately wanting me to play with him and his new Nerf Gun which he just pulled from the pile I had stacked so neatly.

I snap, as I don’t love being frightened awake.

“YOU LITTLE– !”

“Mum, quick, don’t go to sleep, come and play with me. Come on, it’s Christmas and I want to play with you!”

His beautiful brown eyes staring at me take over, and before I know it I’m out in the yard being shot at with foam bullets. I curse my husband who is nowhere to be seen, as this is Dad’s job. I read the books. I don’t get shot at, although I’m so tired I probably wouldn’t mind being shot for real right about now.

I pretend I’m hiding from the gunman and sneak back inside to finish my little lay down, still cursing my husband. 

Then, out of the corner of my eye I see him through the front window playing basketball with number one son. Where the hell did he find that energy? Now I feel bad for being mad at him. 

I’m about three steps from my inviting bed when the phone rings with well wishes, one after the other. It’s lovely to hear from family at Christmas, but can’t they call back in an hour, after I’ve finished my nap? 

I take the phone outside for the kids to talk to their cousins and get shot with two Nerf bullets. “Mum, where were you? You were supposed to be playing with me!” Here comes the abuse - I’ve been caught out trying to nick off! 

I make a quick getaway, and this will be the last time I make an attempt for the nap I so desperately want. Running to my room, I go to slam the door behind me, but my husband’s arm stops it from closing. With a stubby in his hand, he reminds me that I have to do the roast vegetables for us to take to Christmas lunch at his cousin’s place.

I have resigned myself to the fact that I will not be getting any more than my 4 hours sleep today. 

I consider growling at him for having a beer so early, but in the back of my mind I know I need to keep the peace because in just a few short hours I am very likely to be having that damned sleep and he won’t have a hope of waking me up!

I prepare the vegetables, tell the boys to get dressed in their nice new clothes and then I have a shower. Thankfully the water wakes me up and I feel temporarily refreshed. 

We pack the car and just as I am about to round up the kids, I see they are now in the sandpit with the hose going, wearing their new clothes. They…are…filthy.

A quick wardrobe change and we’re off.

We arrive for Christmas Lunch where there are tables chock-a-block with food for as far as the eye can see. Four variations of potatoes, four types of meat, steamed greens, a range of sauces, proper gravy made with pan juices, julienned carrots, the list goes on. The kids are fed first. With so much to choose from, their plates consist of 1 roast potato and a slice of ham! They may as well have eaten the full contents of that darned Christmas Lollies Stocking after all!! We crack the Bon Bons and as usual my husband tears his as he pushes it onto his head. Bad jokes are told and trinkets are compared, glasses are filled and plates are piled up with more food than we can possibly consume. Why do we do that? It’s as though the idea is to eat as much food as you can on Christmas Day that you would explode. In fact, I myself had a ticket to redeem at the Porcelain Bus midway through my meal and still went back for seconds!

Proclaiming that there was no way I could possibly fit another thing in, plus the fact that there were sound effects coming from my stomach that sounded a little like there was an internal video game going on, out came dessert. 

Puddings, icecreams, custards and creams, you name it, it was on offer. Suddenly as if by magic, there is room for a ‘sliver’ (which in fact is an actual chunk but you dare not cut the serving any smaller), and you load up once again.

It’s funny how it takes Christmas lunch to inspire and motivate you to go on a diet! Why wouldn’t you just serve up a Christmas lunch midway through the year, stuff yourself and then go on a diet half way through the year??

With lunch done, this strange thing happens where everyone except for the wives disappear! Have you ever noticed that? As contagious as COVID, a sudden onset of Domestic Phobia which funnily enough only latches onto husbands, causes the gents to vacate the kitchen in an instant. The only way they can be saved is to congregate to the nearest Esky and not move. Apparently, it can be even more helpful if the contents of the Esky are consumed as soon as possible, with many of the Domestic Phobia sufferers having no choice but to have to lay down after the consumption.

After the dishes are done, it’s time to boil the kettle and bugger it, why not have something else to eat, because you’ve bloody earned it! 

Aunty M. has made biscuits and be blowed if you’re going to miss out on sampling one. Once they’re all cleaned up, someone cracks open a box of Cadbury Favourites and who are you to argue that they’re not necessary? Yes please, I’ll have the Boost Bars and Cherry Ripes even though I couldn’t possibly fit another thing in!!

Finally, the kids have peaked. As they say, what goes up must come down and now fights have broken out. There are tears, you know those really whingey tears?? No, they aren’t coming from me, although I could very well break down right about now because I have only just been able to relax after resigning myself to the fact that I will not be getting that nap I so desperately want. 

It is not a myth that there are crocodiles in Barham because by this time I am snapping like an angry saltwater croc, and anyone of shoulder height is potential prey! 

Gathering up the children, I promptly pop them into the car and while I am seriously considering leaving my husband, who by now has drunk the Esky dry, behind, I simply give him ‘the look’ that tells him it’s time to leave.

We have barely left the premises and both kids are almost asleep. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Gently, the kids are carried inside (I’m quietly envious and wish someone would carry me inside as I slept) and are placed into their beds. Looking at their sweet little faces as they snuggle into their doona, I am hit like a tonne of bricks with guilt as one of them opens their eyes slightly and says “Mum, this has been the best Christmas ever, thank you.” 

My heart melts and I feel terrible for my immature behaviour today. I kiss both of the boys on their soft cheeks, tell them I love them and go back to the living room where my husband too is in a deep slumber. Only his adorability is overshadowed by intermittent snoring and bottom burps, thanks to the day’s consumption of beverage choice and rich meats. 

I go and put the kettle on to make myself a cup of peppermint tea, stretching and yawning as I pour the water. I am so excited about going to bed, but just before I turn in, I look over to the present piles lying on the floor and decide to put them in the kids’ rooms. Carefully, I lift the pile with the jigsaw puzzle and once again there is that pang of guilt for not letting my son get it out of the box. The little darling is sound asleep as I bend down to place the pile by the side of his bed…and drop the bloody box containing the puzzle, scattering it all over the floor and waking him up!

Bugger the mess, I’m off to bed!...