Fucking Christmas.
Every year, I believe if I build it, they will come. And by come, I mean be happy, cheerful, helpful and generally quietly joyful and merry because their mum/stepmum/partner has once again magicked up a lovely Yuletide of thoughtful presents, delicious food, treats aplenty, sparkly lights and everything just really nice.
I don't expect much. I don't wake them up early (kids are 15,14,12,10), I don't make them go to church, breakfast is boy friendly bacon butties and pain au chocolate... I invited everyone for a dog walk on a sunny beach and didn't get cross when only my DP reluctantly came with me... we opened presents and I did ellicit a few smiles and a handful of nice pics but within 15 minutes it's all over. They disappear back to their nests like startled rats with the "fails" abandoned on the floor for the puppy to shred...
DP is hanging... his traditional boys Christmas Eve drinks gave way to some serious wine consumption last night and he's feeling it today. I've not even been cross about that! I just gave him a can of coke, 2 paracetamol and a wry smile. Then cracked on with making the Beef Wellington, fondant potatoes and all the trimmings...
I've spent an absolute fortune on food, drink, presents, tree and all the flipping trimmings and at the end of it all, no one actually gives two shits
So in closing, to myself in 9 months... don't bother with the spreadsheet of gifts, don't make a note on your phone every time anyone shows an interest in a potential present, don't spend hours planning the menu, shopping, prep and organisation.
Decorate the monstera, chuck a few pizzas in and just go to bed with the dog, a bottle of good champagne and a new book.
Fuck 'em.