The days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
…a basketful of dirty laundry.

So that would be GP1, GP2 and GPD.

It became a basketful or more after I collected 3 wet towels from one bedroom floor and 4 from another then went into the bathroom and threw a wobbly at the pile of clothes on the floor.  I collected it all, dumped it in the sitting room, and proclaimed that henceforth any clothes I picked off the floor would go into a bin bag and then the bin.  And I wouldn’t be the one replacing them.  It worked for a while…

On the 2nd day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
…two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

Nothing new there, then.

On the 3rd day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
…3am vomiting*, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

*Poetic license. It was only 1 boy – GP2. Too much chocolate rather than alcohol we think hope.  Murphy’s Law, according to the Guardian, states “No child will ever vomit in the toilet”.  So true.  Nothing like sorting out vomit-covered bedding at 3am, I always say.  Unfortunately I stuck the once good, white cotton sheet in the machine with a blue blanket.  Next morning I had a pale blue sheet with a stonking great orange-brown stain in the middle.  12 hours in a bucket of nappy-san (not that I ever washed nappies) followed by the hottest wash my machine could muster and I had a grey-side-of-white sheet with a pale-only-if you-looked-hard stain.  So I decided not to put it in the bin, tempting though it was.  Meanwhile, youngest son was happily regaling us with vomiting descriptions. It was just like the woman on Little Britain, apparently – it just kept on coming.

On the 4th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
…4 rounds of Monopoly*, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

*and I wiped the floor with them. Just thought I’d point that out. Although I did let GP1 win once or twice and he also cleaned up at Risk.

On the 5th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
…5 lo-ong walks*, 4 rounds of Monopoly, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

*Wishful thinking rather than poetic license. We didn’t ever get GP1 to shift himself.

On the 6th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
… 6 miles of running*, 5 lo-ong walks, 4 rounds of Monopoly, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

*I got a pass-out and some of the Thursday crowd dragged me round a long (for me) run – southern edge of Tranent to northern edge of Prestonpans and back, with a few loops inserted here and there.  Those of you in the know will realise it’s all downhill to the Pans (and I mean that in the nicest possible way) and all uphill, I mean really uphill, all the way back. 

On the 7th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
… 7 hours of cooking*, 6 miles of running, 5 lo-ong walks, 4 rounds of Monopoly, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

*Time for fun cooking at Christmas.  Party cooking and mince pies.  Baked ham.  GPD cooked the turkey and then there was turkey & ham pie, turkey curry, turkey soup, turkey pasties.  It had lived a happy life, this turkey, until it met us.   Christmas cake.  Little cheesy biscuit things.  Brandy snaps.  Party nibbles.  Pizza.  And almost all gluten free.  I had a very pleasant time in the kitchen this Christmas.  It did mean I had to defrost excavate the freezer, though, so that I could stuff it full of new cooking.  A little like the oven, defrosting the freezer was a chore past its time. 

On the 8th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
… 8 hours of lounging*, 7 hours of cooking, 6 miles of running, 5 lo-ong walks, 4 rounds of Monopoly, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

* I think we all did lots of lounging about this holiday.  It’s great when there feels like no need to do anything much and the boys no longer need entertaining every hour of the day.  You can read books and sit and talk.

On the 9th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
… 9 days of sunshine*, 8 hours of lounging, 7 hours of cooking,  6 miles of running, 5 lo-ong walks, 4 rounds of Monopoly, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry

*Wasn’t the weather fantastic over Christmas? No wind and cold, clear days.  It might not have been 9 days but it seemed to be lots.  The last time we had Christmas at home, we spent New Year’s Eve playing Monopoly by candlelight in a stormy power cut.  Oh yes, Monopoly – d’you spot a theme here?  

On the 10th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
… 10 hours of partying*, 9 days of sunshine, 8 hours of lounging, 7 hours of cooking,  6 miles of running, 5 lo-ong walks, 4 rounds of Monopoly, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

*We had a party, an open house sort of party.  It’s something we’ve not been able to do for a while.  Festivities began at 1.30-ish and the last people left at 11.30.   We didn’t have too much food left.  It got the house tidy and I didn’t have to do it all myself.  And I’ve found that left-over mulled wine is a fabulous addition to stews.  To be recommended.  The downside is that the volume of chocolate, cake and related, fat-laden, calorific sugar products in the house can now be measured in cubic metres.  And as for alcohol…  litres doesn’t come near it.

On the 11th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
… 11 hours of sleep*, 10 hours of partying, 9 days of sunshine, 8 hours of lounging, 7 hours of cooking,  6 miles of running, 5 lo-ong walks, 4 rounds of Monopoly, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

*Long lies were an essential ingredient.  Especially after the party.

On the 12th day of Christmas my 3 boys gave to me…
… 12 lazy, relaxing, happy days, 11 hours of sleep, 10 hours of partying, 9 days of sunshine, 8 hours of lounging, 7 hours of cooking,  6 miles of running, 5 lo-ong walks, 4 rounds of Monopoly, 3am vomiting, two piles of ironing and a basketful of dirty laundry.

But then it’s back to work.

And there was still all that laundry to deal with.

Things that we didn’t do this Christmas: work; homework (at least, not until the very last moment); revision for prelims (sigh); ironing; a tour of the motorways of southern Britain which is how our Christmas holidays are often spent.  I like to think we were doing our bit for climate change.  

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8 thoughts on “The days of Christmas

  1. You know, for a moment there I thought the 3am vomiting was appearing every single day. Duh! Sounds lovely – and well deserved – though (apart from the vomiting and sheet washing, obviously…)

  2. I did nearly leave out all the repeats through sheer boredom – perhaps I should have done! And it was lovely, thank you. Especially lovely not doing the motorway miles although we missed seeing wider family.

  3. What a perfect Christmas (excluding the vomiting of course) – there is nothing like a spot of exercise on a crisp, clear day to put a smile on one’s face!

  4. Thanks for the tip re left over mulled wine.

    Child, vomiting, bucket. The three don’t come together till quite late on, do they? Until that day, it’s always child, vomiting, clothes, bedding and carpet.

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