My Perfectly Imperfect Christmas – Plus a pic of me I will regret.

Warning:  If you have even the slightest OCD tendencies, this post may make you twitch… just a little.

Well Christmas day has come and gone and to every cashier that politely asked me during December if I was organised for Christmas the answer was still “NO” when family were walking through the unadorned front door Christmas morning.

Organised and my name ‘Sandra’ are never  mentioned in the same sentence… ever… except for this sentence!  (Not unless there has recently been a sarcastic font invented that actually scoffs at the same time like “Sandra? Organised?” And then ba ha ha’s itself all the way home?)

The windows weren’t washed, the garden not weeded and there was a mass suicide of brown beetles to greet the merry makers on the veranda.

The make shift Christmas Tree was decorated in panicked haste 30 minutes before the first Merry Christmas  was chorused. About the same time I threw the wrinkled table-cloth at my poor Mum pleading, “Please iron this!”  Not that she was surprised.  My way  of doing  things has been a constant source of amusement for her for a very long time.  She has just turned 82.  I rarely astonish her with my gifted ways of ineptness any more.

Once the adult children arrived I started throwing directions around like Oprah saying ‘You  get a car, and you  get a car’.  Only no one got a car of course… it was more like ‘You  get to chop the carrots, you  rinse those glasses, you  get down those good plates… ah, you  best wash the dust off those plates, you  cut the price tag off those reindeer centre pieces for the table before your Uncle/Father sees them.

Vegetables simmering and Carols on the tele we turned our attention to every body’s favourite part of Christmas – the gift giving.

There were smiles and many a thank you and even a few oh you shouldn’t have  moments; but probably the funniest moment was the Nephew/Son carefully taking the wrapping paper of his beach towel present to find it sprinkled with home-made chocolate chip cookie crumbs courtesy of our man child’s ability to eat Nana’s cookies whilst helping his Mother with the wrapping marathon that took place at 9.30pm Christmas Eve.  #skills

While the Niece/Daughter was decorating the dining table with the freshly ironed cloth and not very expensive at all *coughs*  glittered silver reindeer, I started on carving the meat.

First attempt did not go well.

Holding the electric knife in the air, inspecting the blades while still buzzing, I asked why this bloody thing wasn’t cutting through the ham – just at that moment the plastic sleeve blade cover started waving around in the air like a possessed skinny condom balloon freeing itself from the vibrating blades.

There may have been quite a few oh my gods  said through uncontrollable laughter.

My Niece/Daughter may have been slightly embarrassed because this was her boyfriend’s first experience of my Christmas disorganisation… but not the first time he’d eaten my cooking… yes, he is a brave boy and a glutton for punishment.

My Mum just rolled her eyes… again!

Once lunch was finally plated  on the dust free good plates and beverages poured into the rinsed glasses I sat nervously waiting for the verdict on the ham from the Husband, Doug.  I knew by the look on his face that I had indeed achieved the ultimate this Christmas – I had NAILED  that ham glaze!  Woo hoo!  Go me!  So I fist pumped the air collecting Mum beside me and knocking her off the chair.

Sorry, that last bit didn’t really happen.  My Mum is FINE. Honest. Though with the way the morning had gone I am surprised that it didn’t happen. She was  sitting very close. But that bit about nailing the ham glaze really happened.  Yesssssss!

We all survived.  I didn’t poison anyone. They all left with full bellies, full arms and full of fear that maybe I shouldn’t be left unattended while using electrical equipment… or anything sharp.

So here I am, four days later, reflecting on probably the most disorganised Christmas I have ever pulled together – and you know what? It was so perfectly imperfect that I’m already looking forward to being just as unorganised next Christmas – it created a very funny, family connecting day – and I loved every disordered second of it.

 

And here I am in my granny apron, channeling my inner granny hoping for domestic capabilities, holding the only friend who didn’t laugh at my expense on Christmas Day!  I’m trying to get over my absolute hatred of having my photo taken.  So it’s a really good idea to post a large pic of me waving Merry Christmas right?  Don’t believe I’ll think that after I hit publish.

In all seriousness, I hope you all had a lovely Christmas – where ever you were, with whom ever you shared it and with what ever you had to make it bright.

Think I’ll stay home New Years Eve.

What about you?

PS. No make-up, lip waxing, eye brow shaping, leg shaving, hair styling, spray tanning, teeth whitening, personal adornments or apron ironing was used or abused in the preparation of this photo.  I didn’t free up enough time.  Upside?  I saved a shit load of money (insert eye wink here).