Is it wrong/unfestive to say I've not had an amazing day?
Christmas Eve: somehow my Mother and I were roped into running the church crib service (Nativity story with carols and puppets) even though neither of us wanted to. I consoled myself that at least it wasn't a proper church service (I'm a closet agnostic, bordering on atheist: To believe or not to believe) only to find that Mum had inserted a prayer and blessing for me to read out, making me feel like a hypocrite. Add to that the stress emanating from her during our morning preparations for the service (she tends to go into meltdown when she feels overloaded) and it was not the most relaxing start to my Christmas.
Once the crib service was over, all the family came back to the Badger residence for supper (sandwiches and easy finger food), which was much more relaxing, but my evening was neatly rounded off by Baby Badger chundering a mixture of booby milk, snot and food over my shoulder and chest. Nice!
Christmas Day: Father Badger's Mum moved down to the next village about 18 months ago, which is lovely: we get on well, respect each others' space, and Baby Badger gets to grow up knowing all her grandparents. It also means that we have stopped alternating Christmas Day between families and this year was our second Christmas bringing both families together for Christmas. For Father Badger's family it's much more relaxed than in times gone by (arguments and family feuds), but my parents don't seem to settle when out of their house at Christmas. Once again, my evening was rounded off by being coated in booby milk, snot and partially digested food. Merry Christmas Mummy!
That's when I tweeted.
Boxing Day: today has at least been more relaxed. A walk around the village followed by soup, baked ham and brownies with ice cream at my parents' house. And no vomit. Hurrah!
Image: Michal Marcol / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
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