Christmas karma

Fortunately most of my Christmas shopping was done before I got sacked. Unfortunately I put it all on our credit card in anticipation of fortnightly pay checks …

The only gift that hasn’t been bought is one for me from Husband. I told him it really wasn’t necessary because I wasn’t making any effort with him after what happened last year. If you recall, he misplaced the Kindle I bought him last Christmas and didn’t bother looking for it … until this week. He found it in a bag with all the other Christmas gifts I’d given him, including a framed photo of the Sprogs and a copy of Moulin Rouge. I got very cross and tightly suggested he should just chuck them in the wardrobe with all his Father’s Day presents – also sitting unused in a bag.

My chosen punishment – just giving him socks for Christmas – hasn’t hit the mark. He WANTS socks. When I told him what he was getting, he BEGGED me to buy him lots and lots. Seriously. He never cuts his toenails, so he’s always getting holes in them. Well I’ve only bought six pairs, so take that, you ungrateful B.

When my fury subsided, I did a show and tell of the kids’ pressies. Apart from being horrified by the spooky walking talking doll I’ve bought for Sprog 2, he was mostly impressed with my gift buying. He agreed, after much prodding, that I have a real talent for it.

I thought my toy shopping was done, but last-minute requests keep trickling in and screwing with my head. First Sprog 2 announced the only thing she really, really wanted was rollerblades. Ack! That will teach me to buy her Little Angel magazine to try and encourage a love of reading, but instead fostering a love of retail therapy.

Then Sprog 1 informed me she wanted a bug squasher. It’s an accessory to the gooey bug maker she got from Nonna for Christmas. And it reminded me of her rather unusual Christmas request this time last year. Here’s an excerpt from the blog:

“Giardia, chicken pox, cholera, salmonella, chlamydia … not the first things that spring to mind when you hear the words “soft toy”. While visiting a science toy shop on the weekend we discovered a whole pile of cuddly toys in the shape of viruses and other icky stuff. They’re called Giant Microbes (there’s even a heart-shaped box filled with sexually transmitted diseases, I bet they go gangbusters on Valentine’s Day). Sprog 1 was transfixed. She was desperate for the Acne one, she wanted to call it Pimply. She was begging: Please, please, please can I have a pimple for Christmas? Christmas morning for Sprog 1 is going to be quite something: a toy pimple, a black T-shirt with a skull on it, a sea monster Barbie doll, Just Macbeth (book), a guide to weird scientific stuff, some Mushi Monsters, a stuffed owl made from chook feathers and a bug catcher. Can’t wait to see my mother try to ooh and ahhh over that lot.”

I’ve just remembered that it’s not the first time I’ve been “let go” during the festive season. Way back during The Recession (yes, I’m that old), I got retrenched from Studio Magazines. And, come to think of it, I got a pimple for Christmas that year myself. In fact, I got a whole face-full of them. It was probably the stress.

This unemployed Christmas the stress is just making my right eyelid twitch around 10 hours a day. I’m not sure which physical manifestation I prefer …

Repeat after me: peace on earth, goodwill to all men; peace on earth, goodwill to all men; peace on earth, goodwill to all men.

Do you start feeling it if you keep on saying it?

WHAT’S ON YOUR WISH LIST? SOMETHING NAUGHTY OR NICE?