Finally I can get on to the business of Christmas. The first part of the week has been focused on my son’s birthday and I always feel it’s a little mean to merge so we have Happy Birthday banners to take down now and swap with Christmas baubles.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FIRST BORN CHILD!! WOOHOO 23!! (and I am so going to try and avoid saying “how did that happen?” and “where did the time go?” because that’s what old people say). My very old son has been trashing my house for 23 years now and to be honest, what a privilege that has been and Long may it last. They won’t be around forever (she says hopefully) so you might as well jump in and get involved whilst they’re still around and you are just about young enough not to fall over on the dance floor because your knees have given way.
How on earth I managed the spectacularly bad planning of producing a child 4 days before Christmas I’ll never know. He was, to be fair, three weeks late and born in the height of the summer in Melbourne – he should have been born at the beginning of December, which would have been way better.
Especially now that I am still dealing with the remnants of a massive house party held here on Saturday night and it’s all just a bit too close to the next lot of celebrations and I already feel rung out. We had seventy people to play on Saturday night. 71 if you include my brother who came for moral support. I tried very hard to get them to have pre’s (as you say these days) at my house and then go to a club – that is quite a civilised option and one that is particularly popular with my neighbours. Instead, this year they had pre’s at the pub and arrived at my house at 10pm all very jolly and in the mood for a party. I went out for dinner and then got back at the same time – simply dreading how the evening was going to progress and wondering what time I’d be able to go to bed and where were my earplugs.
But, honestly, it happens every time – I just love that bunch of kids who are no longer kids and they have an awful lot of interesting stuff to talk about and all the normal issues and when they’re all together, in that beautiful mess of the next generation all laughing and chatting I couldn’t be more delighted to have them all in my house. I”ve known most of them for years – they’ve been trashing my house since they can remember so it was good to catch up with lots of them who are either still at uni or already working in the big wide world.
Obviously my delight was not quite the same the next day. They stayed until 6.30am – well some of them did and I rather foolishly did the same – which meant that I’m still recovering, as is my house. But so what? Let me just say that it is far more important to bring everyone together than to have a clean floor. What are we all going to remember in the end? A clean house or a happy party? Well, I know which one I would prefer and maybe next year when the same thing happens again and I dread it for weeks beforehand I need to come back here and remind myself that this is actually what life is all about. “Messy House, Happy Soul”.
Anyway, I can’t be sitting around writing blog posts – I have all my Christmas shopping to do!