I am tired and weary. My liver hurts. I have overdosed on pork products and I will scream if I have to count to the mythical 'three' one more time in order to try to stop a sugar induced tantrum.
Admittedly heart warming moments abounded. I have never been so proud as when watching my son performing his at his nursery concert in his Santa costume. Watching a dozen three and four year olds impersonating penguins in Christmas attire was hilarious and thankfully safely videoed for future blackmailing purposes.
The kids ooh'ed and aah'ed appreciatively over their pressies (again, responsibly captured on film) and there was only one person who brought a far more generous present than I bought for them; the politics of presents - the unspoken agreement that you will both spend a similar amount on each other, only for the other person to aim a passive-aggressive undercut by unilaterally blowing the budget. A different person would be grateful for the generous gesture, but sadly not me - it just makes me feel guilty that I didn't buy them something just as nice....
In addition it was lovely to see friends and family and spend time with them, especially on the day itself when a kind friend invited us and other friends with young children to her house for us all to create mayhem whilst she cooked. We had a great time and she is a good, good friend. Mwah mwah.
I find Christmas to be a bit like giving birth - all anticipation and anxiety in the run up to the event, barely tolerable pain and incredible joy on the day itself, then as soon as it is over you forget and within a few months you are ready to go through the whole blooming thing again........
I'm such an old misery - I blame it on a liverish reaction to another pig's in blankets based evening meal. Tomorrow I'm finding a recipie for miso soup or perhaps curly kale and mung bean stew.
