'Tis the Season to be Trollied

Lately I have been a BAD blogger. I have barely posted, I haven't replied to comments, I've not even acknowledged awards some kind people have given me. Please don't give up on me, thank you for sending lovely comments and emails and, come the New Year, I'll be back on it with both cylinders. Promise. Until then, I apologise for my bad blogging behaviour and consider myself well and truly put on the naughty step.

Truth is, despite having TWO of the X chromosomes, I seem to have lost my ability to multi-task. What with both our children's birthdays within a month of Christmas (bad family planning, we know), a change of childcare, a demanding freelance job, a zillion illnesses and the eldest coming into our bed every two minutes, my coping mechanism over the last few weeks has generally involved at least half a bottle of red per evening, with the occasional hot spicy cider thrown in for festive measure. Our recycling box is such an embarrassment in our well-heeled neighbourhood, The Husband has to take it out after dark and place it down gingerly to avoid the 'clink' factor. Last week we had more bottles than next door's flats put together. Oops.

All this does of course is result in 'duvet brain', more tiredness and a greater relaxing of parenting boundaries, because I'm too knackered to give a shit. I know supernanny would have me trotting my 4 year old back to his bed 15 times a night but frankly I'd rather spend that time trying to get back to the dream about me and Spencer from Made in Chelsea.

As The Husband has taken on a new 'stressful' job, I'm also in charge of all the Christmas shopping this year, which basically means wasting a great deal of my life saying the words 'Do you take American Express?' It was an idea of The Husband's that, since we were caning the credit cards, we might as well make money out of it, so he's switched us to some scheme where we clock up free air miles every time we chip and pin it. Last night he proudly announced we'd racked up enough to get us somewhere in Europe. I started mentally planning a Gite in the Loire Valley or a pretty yellow villa in Tuscany. Only to learn that apparently it's only enough for one. One way.

So it turns out The Husband is planning his quiet Christmas somewhere over the Channel, and I shall continue my wine-based meltdown towards the 25th, hoping I get there with enough brain cells still intact to play Cranium with my in-laws (or, God forbid, Trivial Pursuit...when will they bring out a celebrity gossip version?!) 


Merry Christmas fellow bloggers and faithful followers. See you on the other side x