Way back in the time I like to refer to as BC (Before Child), autumn and the run-up to Christmas was my favourite time of year. The crisp golden leaves, frosted grass, cheeks rosy with the cold and mulled wine. I'd start willing it to hurry up at some point in July. Now (AC: After Child), this time of year is referred to as the season of sick and yellow snotfulness in my household. I don't know if there were any crisp golden leaves outside because I was busy being ill and looking after a poorly child, and you can't drink mulled wine on top of Lemsip and Codeine.
I used to imagine autumn and winter with a child being a time of wonder and joy; all nativity plays and frolicking with friends and their children in the snow. Sadly, the reality of small children at Christmas time is a lot of mucus and not seeing your friends for months on end because you tag team each other with illness from about mid September until...well...March. And even then there's chickenpox to contend with. Chickenpox loves to sneak in in March or April just when you think poorly season is over.
In addition, I am ridiculously busy at the moment trying to salvage some of the work that had to be ignored in favour of Dealing With The Sick and haven't even had time to go Christmas shopping. There have been no carols or festive films. There have been no mince pies. The only signs that Christmas is coming are:
a) Rory keeps waking up at night because he's too excited about opening his Advent calendar every morning to sleep. I shit you not. This did not appear in my Christmas-with-a-small-child dream sequence.
b) He is a shepherd in the pre-school nativity play and keeps breaking into song with bizarre Jive Bunny style mixes of Away in a Manger, Jingle Bells and Personal Jesus, at least one of which he cannot possibly have learnt at pre-school.
c) Richard is having his annual Q4 Christmas work related breakdown. Spare a thought for all of those who work in retail at the moment. And their spouses. Especially their spouses. Seriously people, your Christmas has NOT been ruined because the gift you ordered hasn't turned up yet. However, my Christmas is being ruined already because my husband keeps having funny turns of the heart variety because of the stress you don't realise you're putting him under (which isn't even his fault - it should be down to I.T. and customer services to sort it, but as the highest up person in the team, he ends up dealing with it). Last year our nice family trip out to buy the Christmas tree from the farm mainly consisted of him lying down in the car looking grey and clutching his heart. Please try not to finish him off entirely this year.
d) There has been a glitter shitting incident.
I'm off to catch up on some work now. Please send mince pies and sloe gin.