Vg post. I requested and am getting 9 hours sleep from DH. If it works will be best present ever. May need to purchase noise cancelling headphones first ...
You should have asked for a lockable wardrobe to keep your sex shoes safe from cross dressing preschoolers!
I have lists and lists of things I would love for Christmas. I don't get it
I won't get them though as we're too skint. If we weren't I would buy them for myself anyway
Yeah, I agree - this too shall pass. I would keep your list of 3 (impractical, complete fantasy and gin - I like that!) for your next birthday. Gives you something to focus on.
I don't like your thread. Really don't like it. Are you some diet of martyr? Since when did becoming mother make you lose your previous personality ?
I have a pair of 'come fuck me boots'. Admittedly only one pair. Why haven't you? Order yourself that underwear.
Take back a bit, for yourself. Please. For all our sakes.
I can relate!
I asked hubby for socks so thats what he gave me - i told him i spent £50 on him and he then said he would throw in a few surprises.........freestyling never a good idea i ended up with some taccy felt zebra print scarf off a market stall that pat butcher would wear and a Game of Thrones book which is totally a present for him!
So i am on the gin waiting for the relies to arrive whilst dodging a carpet full of plastic food as my DD 2 yrs old got a shopping trolley and food set and i have been playing checkout girl all morning.
Awwwww......isn't he lovely.
As the writer of this article, I thought I'd nip on here and let you know that my husband bought me a laptop for Christmas so I can "sit and write in cafes like JK Rowling". What a star! Thoughtful present and much needed because it's tricky being a writer and having to stay chained to the home computer. Not a toilet brush in sight ;-)
I want a mobile phone jammer to block spammer phone calls.My friend has ever picked one from jammerfromchina.com and she said it's good.I would have a try.
I see where you are coming from, but I don't really relate either. I add things that I want but can't justify (be they Â£5 or Â£500) to a wish list all year, and there are lots of them.
Maybe it's a young DC thing. Mine are now old enough to express opinions
and teach DH a thing or two about wrapping up, judging by what I see under the tree
..in which case, this too shall pass, OP.
Funny but I just don't relate. I have a whole bunch of things I would like.
My mum bought me a fancy coat which I love and have been using on a daily basis since October
I treated myself to a pair if boots nicer than I would normally splash on
I would also like some super snuggly pjs, an electric blanket, some big dangly earring (just cut my hair short) would be very happy to receive any lush products or nice smellies, a really nice set of bed sheets, snuggly blankets, I love to get candles, chocolates wine and whiskey. I am easily dazzled by pretty scarves
I'm easy to get presents for but hardly anyone does
Had a good chuckle at this. Merry Christmas lovely mumsnetters!
Don't hi five me till after I've had it, you might fall in, lol
imagines mass purchases of foof tighteners
I want to high five you for requesting a foof tightener for Christmas. Inspirational. That's next year's list sorted.
I can relate
However ii threw a curveball this year and asked for one of those things you stick up your foof and it kinda electrocutes you and tightens up your pelvic floor
the lazy way
After extolling the virtues of a tighter pelvic floor I think I may just be getting one.
Too mumsy I know
but the look of shock as I announced my gift list was priceless
I wish I could say I don't relate but it is too true
had a chuckle at concern over your missing penis - been there
i'm recently reading again and have even bought a few cds - albums produced in the last 12months would you believe - that i'm determined to listen to. i'm a single mother of an only child who is now six and i didn't have him till i was 31 so i'm hoping there's a chance for my re-emerging identity to stick and my life to continue forward in ways less predictable than hanging tacky Grandma plaques on my kitchen wall.
we'll see though.
liked this blog post very much, thank you.
What I really want for Christmas
For the past few weeks, mothers across the country will have faced the same, all too familiar question... "What do you want for Christmas?"
Mumsnet blogger Lisa Jarmin casts aside realistic expectations, and tells us what she'd really like to find under the tree this year.
How to be a Domestic Disgrace
Posted on: Tue 24-Dec-13 10:21:25
(17 comments )
"What do you want for Christmas?" asks my husband. No question makes my heart sink more - not even "Mummy, can you guess where my poo's hiding this time?"
What do I want for Christmas? I know what I'm supposed to want: some sort of jewellery effort, handcrafted from sterling silver and my son's fingerprints, to wear like a badge of motherhood. I don't though. Not because I particularly dislike mum jewellery, but because in my head I'm more than just Mummy, and I don't want something for Christmas that celebrates my reproductive status. I'm a bit more rock and roll than that, you know? A little bit edgy, a little bit quirky, damn it.
That doesn't make it any easier to work out what I want. I can think of plenty of things that we need. Say, a nice new toilet brush or one of those thingies that you hang your bananas on. But everything else I could ask for seems to fall into one of three equally laughable categories:
Pre-child, Christmas morning was like an explosion in Agent Provocateur. Nice underwear was my 'thing': satin, lace, velvet, silk, suspenders – the lot. Not to mention what I politely refer to as 'bedroom shoes' IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. The trouble is, when your small boy's got a habit of going into your cupboard and coming out wearing a black satin thong pulled up over his shoulders Borat style, it loses its appeal somewhat. Plus high heels and wispy scraps of lace don't cut it when you're dodging dog poo and scooters on the school run, and the wind's whistling up your flue.
Pre-child, Christmas morning was like an explosion in Agent Provocateur... But high heels and wispy scraps of lace don't cut it when you're dodging dog poo and scooters on the school run, and the wind's whistling up your flue.
Ditto books and music, great piles of which would once have made my Christmas. I used to be a voracious reader, but these days my literary debates are of the 'Gruffalo V Mog the Forgetful Cat' variety, and the last thing I read was a dog-eared copy of Take a Break in the doctors' waiting room. And don't get me started on music. Life with my husband once revolved around watching bands and late night, whisky-fuelled conversations about who we saw playing in a tiny pub before they were signed and what we'd got on vinyl. These days, however, the soundtrack to my life is whatever Rory and I can find to dance to on Youtube, and veers wildly between Agadoo and Stayin' Alive. Not even the Bee Gees original – I'm talking about the 1995 N-Trance abomination. Get raw with the fever on the dance floor.
2. Complete Fantasy:
My pre-childbirth ability to eat cake all day and stay thin. A proper salary. A full night's sleep. A visit to the toilet during which nobody wanders in and expresses concern about my missing penis. The possibility of walking across the living room without being crippled by abandoned Lego. A conversation with my husband in which we discuss culture, politics and intellectual pursuits rather than how tired we are and US crime dramas. An episode of Thomas the knobbing Tank Engine in which an abandoned suitcase contains an explosive device and obliterates the Island of Sodor (see also Postman Pat anthrax attack). A life free from the shackles of chiselling dried on Weetabix off of every motherfucking surface of my home furnishings. Or just a life in general.
Lovely, lovely gin.
See what I mean? I'm a Christmas present minefield. Suddenly I understand my mother's "oh, well, I could do with a new deodorant – Boots own is fine", when asked what she wanted for Christmas: unless you fully embrace it, motherhood is a Christmas present no man's land. It's time to admit to myself that I'm just as mumsy as the next woman. When Christmas morning rolls around, you can safely assume that I'll be crying into a bog brush, a value pack of floral M&S knickers and a bumper bottle of Gordon's from the cash and carry. Merry Christmas everybody. Rock and, indeed, roll.
By Lisa Jarmin
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