OK, I think I’ve freaked everyone out enough for the moment about s*x …
Time to move on to less controversial topics, such finally getting my act together for Christmas.
I usually have my Christmas shopping done by July and my tree up by 9am on December 1.
This year has been a total shambles. I’m blaming it on my belly. It gets the blame for everything these days. Very easy target. (Also quite nerve-wracking for men on the train, trying to decide whether to offer me their seat.)
My impending medical procedure sent me into a festive frenzy over the weekend.
With the countdown on to womb angina, I swept the kids in the city at 10am on Saturday morning to have their photo taken with Santa at Myer.
It was a little tricky getting them into suitable attire. The youngest reluctantly agreed to wear a Christmassy ensemble. I gave up with the eldest and said Sure, wear the black Hogwarts top with cargo pants and thongs, wot-eva!
Oddly, the trip to meet Santa was actually instigated by the punk/goth 12-year-old who insisted it MUST be done.
We’ve kind of been elephanting in the room about Santa. I have NO idea what’s going on inside their heads.
The youngest is rat cunning, so surely …
But who knows?
Speaking of the youngest, she wasn’t happy about playing the role of cute kiddie for Santa’s elves or Santa himself.
She announced through gritted teeth when we got home that it wouldn’t be happening next year because she didn’t want to have to high-five and fist bump the man in red.
Though she quite cheerfully told him she wants a FitBit for Christmas. Santa was a little rattled, as it was his first FitBit request from a little person.
She was very peeved afterwards to realise she’d forgotten to ask for a specific FitBit – the FitBit Surge HR. She’s very worried her order will get stuffed up … so maybe she does think he’s bringing it.
What the hell does she want a FitBit for????????
Afterwards we stumbled across a Lindt pop-up shop, which even had candy cane flavoured ones! Oooooo-er!
Then we checked out the David Jones windows, which were TERRIBLE.
I’d thought reports children were crying with disappointment were a little melodramatic until I stood before the pathetic displays. Talk about BLAH.
When we got home, a dear former school friend dropped by with a gingerbread dalek.
In stark contrast to David Jones’ piss weak Christmas efforts, it was totally AWESOME.
After my talented friend hit the road, I set the kids to work decorating the Christmas tree.
I had to intervene at one point and wrestle the star from their hands as they launched into all-out war over who would put it on the top of the tree.
Geez my head hurts when they get going.
Sunday dawned with a Christmas jail visit to see Kathy, then I trekked off to the wilds of Sydney’s northern beaches to attend a lovely Christmas drinks soiree at a friend of DD’s place.
We both had serious real estate envy as we gawped at the lovely house while sipping my bottle of rose from Renault.
As the sun set, we cleared our heads with a wander on the beach, where we argued about whether men or women were more fun at parties in our middle age. (Sparked by the fact the sexes weren’t interacting.)
And I took this arty shot of DD storming off …
Nah, he didn’t really storm off, he just got bored with me faffing on Instagram.
I had SUCH a nice weekend.
Well, apart from the Christmas star fight. Could have done without that.
How was your weekend?
Song of the day: Frank Sinatra “Have yourself a merry little Christmas”