What is it about the period between Christmas and New Year that makes it feel like the Bermuda Triangle of time? (aka the Bermuda Time-Jangle). It is literally the longest week of the year. I have no clue what day it is, but wake up thinking it’s Saturday every day. I feel vaguely despondent that Christmas is over and vaguely excited for the New Year … but not ready yet to get all eager and ‘resolutiony.’ It feels like I am marking time and waiting for something big to happen (but I’m not sure what that is). The truth is, I feel decidedly unsettled and would like to just get on with whatever’s coming next.
Our Christmas was uneventful. In my mind it was going to be this beautiful family time. Grace would be home from college. We’d play board games, listen to carols, decorate the tree, watch Christmas movies and drink eggnog. Yeah … not so much. Teenagers are actually the living embodiment of the Grinch who stole Christmas. Apparently carols are lame, boardgames are boring and Christmas movies suck.
I didn’t dare whip out the eggnog … although maybe if I’d spiked it things would have warmed up a little. They begrudgingly sat on the sofa (heads buried in phones) while I decorated the tree to the dulcet tones of Eminem (or some such). My teenagers have also not really mastered the art of giving. In their defence, they have totally nailed the art of receiving … they’re all over that. When asking my son what he’d like for Christmas, I got my usual one word response …“cash” … Oh how festive.
White Chocolate Mascarpone Mousse With Berries In Sparkling Shiraz Syrup
This same message was repeated to all the rellies and he’d barely finished licking the brandy custard off his plate before he hot footed it up to the after hours ATM to bank the days takings. Long gone are the 5am wake up calls and excited shrieks upon the realisation that a fat, bearded guy has broken into our home overnight and eaten our cookies. Now, no one gets out of bed before 9am … other than me who gets up at 6 to start the annual over catering pilgrimage. I have a problem with over catering at the best of times. In fact I think I have an actual phobia of under catering which is right up there with my fear of hairy spiders and missing bin day. But I take it to a whole new level for Christmas. We literally had Noah’s Ark sitting in festive platters… half a pig, a chicken, a turkey, some cow and a fish. There were more protein dishes than there were people around the table!
If teenagers are Christmas grinches then I am totally the Grinch who stole New Year’s. My new years eve mantra is “if I can’t walk to it, I’m not going.” My hangxiety (the fear of an impending hangover) is bad enough without adding in the extra angst attached to “how am I going to get home.” I am quite partial to a good list though, so I’m all over the New Year resolutions thing. It’s like a massive ‘to do’ list for the following year. Maybe I’ll spend New Year’s turning mine into an excel spreadsheet with key deliverables and milestones highlighted for ease of use … #girlsgonewild
So it seems that all that’s left for the year is to take down the tree (worlds worst job) and binge on what’s left of the ham which has already been reincarnated as toasties, quiche, frittata and an unidentified pasta bake. Hurry up already 2018 … My list and I are ready for you.
