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A blog about me, my life, my ups and downs as a Mum working in the male dominated IT field, running a house, running around after the kids and JD, and generally running around like a headless chicken!!

Wednesday 21 November 2012

CHRISTMAS AT THE INLAW’S – Elaborate Hoax or Strange Family Initiation??



So we’re gearing up for Christmas at the in-laws. That is JD’s Mum and Step-Dad. This will be our third Christmas together.
Last year was a quiet one at home with us, Mumina, MSB and little Man. It went without any big events other than me and JD arguing at the beginning of December about decorations – “apparently” it’s meant to be a couple thing: decorating the tree………… the jury’s still out to vote on that one (along with the rest of the world!).

So this year we shall have an audience with the Lord and Lady – M.I.L and F.I.L (Mother In-Law, Father In-Law etc… No names remember?). The Christmas trees will be decorated beautifully (real tree’s, naturally) and the trees will be adding to the decorative feel by shedding their needles f@cking everywhere. After owning a Christmas Tree Farm I’m soooo over the nice smell, going out a choosing a MASSIVE one, cutting it down to two feet and then watching it drop needles everywhere for a month – GO FOR A FAKE!! They look soo real – they’re symmetrical (this quality is especially handy for those of you, like me, that suffer from the OCD: ‘Symmetrical Christmas Tree Decorating’ Red Bauble, Gold Bauble, Red Bauble, Gold, Red………….) they fit neatly into corners and you can hang really heavy decorations on them and they do not droop – they are the Marine of Christmas Tree’s.

For our first Christmas together at the In-Law’s I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I mean, we’d had the odd Family Party, BBQ’s and a wedding together so I thought I knew what it would be like and knew the rules. It’s like fight club:
·         Rule 1 - NEVER Swear
·         Rule 2 - NEVER offer to help JD’s Mum in the Kitchen
·         Rule 3 - NEVER say ‘it’ll be fine, calm down’
·         Rule 4 - No plasticine or play dough in the living room/dining room (my Brother in-law’s words of wisdom there)
·         Rule 5 - NEVER decline food/drink/nibbles
·         Rule 6 – NEVER break Rule 1

I made a rookie mistake before we’d even hit Christmas Eve – I decided to give up smoking on Dec 10th so by the 24th I was constantly shaking like a shitting dog and had almost killed JD. Twice.
So Christmas Eve is upon us – we’re packed and I’m waiting for JD to get in from work. Instead ‘Death Warmed Up’ decided to walk in, dressed like JD, but with a cold, cough and wheezing chest. Great – Man-Flu had rocked up and decided to do a dirty protest all over me.
JD showered, changed and dodged death by Tinkerbell three times then we set off.
We’re greeted at the front door and ushered in….

M.I.L:                      What do you mean you feel ill? It’s Christmas! You can’t be ill. Have a Port & Brandy and you’ll be fine. Someone get him a Port & Brandy NOW

Me (in my head):        Fantastic! JD Drunk is well chilled

We have dinner and I think we’re all about to settle down in the living room for an evening in front of the TV…..

M.I.L:   I’ve got the latest ‘Let’s Dance’ who’s going first?
Me:      Pardon?”  Me (in my head):             What the Fuck?”

M.I.L:   “Just Dance!!! You can’t NOT play it. EVERYONE is……. JD – What do you mean you’re too ill for Just Dance?! It’s Christmas! You must do it! Have a Port & Brandy and you’ll be fine – someone get JD a Port & Brandy”

Just Dance commences….
I’m shocked - It’s really good!  and I’m convinced I’m actually better than Britney Spears in the ‘Toxic’ video.
JD did not ‘Just Dance’. But did have four more Port & Brandy’s and is feeling ‘a little bit better’.

It gets to about 11pm and we’re sort of ordered to bed:
M.I.L:               Tinkerbell. What do you mean you’re not tired?  It’s Christmas Eve! Have a Port & Brandy and you’ll drop right off

JD and the F.I.L (Father In-Law) accept this offer and instead of going to bed went across to the flat to wrap some presents.

JD to Me:         Won’t be long, just gotta wrap your present then I’ll be up to get mine” (wink wink nudge nudge)

So without the help of a Port & Brandy I go upstairs to our room to basically wrap myself up in some seductively chosen bows  - Obviously -  as paper would be noisy and could result in paper cuts.
And I wait.
And wait.
Wait a bit more.
Start Reading my book.
Look at the clock – Midnight.
Wait.
ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz

1 o’clock – British Standard Time:
BOOM!!!!! The bedroom door SLAMS OPEN and……..

TINKERBELL he is YOUR responsibility now GET UP and sort him out!

Me. Very Much Out Loud. Not in my head at all:      What. The. Fuck?”

I shit you not I thought Darth Vader had invaded dressed head to toe in Laura Ashley night ware.

M.I.L: “I said he is YOUR responsibility now get up and sort him out!

The Laura Ashley-clad Darth Vader steps to the side to reveal JD. Pissed out of his head. Sick down his chest. Jeans around his ankles……

I do the only thing I can do when faced with Darth and JD, during my first Christmas at the in-laws: I leap out of bed; semi naked, with bows (that were strategically placed) now stuck to my elbow, cheek and shin.
Thank the Lord of Primark that I had remembered to bring my Polka-Dot dressing gown!  
So I come out of the bedroom scanning the thick, plush cream carpets for his dirty protest and find none – 

Me: “Where were you sick?”

M.I.L: “I’ll tell you where he was sick: In the BATHROOM RIGHT OVER THE B-DEY – He has RUINED CHRISTMAS!!!!!” 

JD: “Shudup Mother”

I take a peek around the corner into the bathroom expecting to see the dirty protest. Instead I see the F.I.L, in just his pants, on his hands and knee’s cleaning it up. God love him. 

I turn to JD:
Me: “Ok lets get you to bed

JD: “NO NOT YET!!! I NEEEEEED to be sick again

F.I.L: “Not in this bathroom you’re not – I’ve just bleached it

JD: “Fine I’ll go to the downstairs bathroom” ……….. And off he goes.

I follow with fresh p.j’s, towels, and shower gel and attempt to sort out the carnage that is JD. 
Once clean JD continues to sit on the loo, swaying, insisting he is going to be sick – we’ve been here for half an hour.

I’ve finally had enough. I pull him up, walk him to the galleried hallway and…………
JD: “It’s coming!!! I’M GOING TO BE SICK AGAIN!!!!!!”

I grab a bowl and the echo falls, that is a grown man being sick, came forth and thundered. Sweet Jesus I don’t know where he got it from!

It is now 3am. I have finally got JD in bed. We are surrounded by old towels, dust sheets and bowls. 
I start to drift off to sleep ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

BOOM!!!!! 6:30AM and Darth Vader is at the door armed with 2 cups of tea:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!