I could be a poet

Hello and seasons greetings to you - I hope this finds you with a happy heart and in rude health.

I'm conscious I've been light on posting this year which is in part due to an irresistible urge to write poetry.  It's something that I've done for a very long time and if you've been to my Facebook page recently, you will have seen (and heard) quite a number of them.  Rather than keep them in just the one place, I thought I'd share them here too - they'll have normal titles from here on in but because I'm introducing this one, I get to use a line from one of my favourite Ian Dury songs :) 

-----

At Christmas
Enter my house at your peril
The rooms are like bomb-sites
The children are feral

New guests arrive
As the last are departing
Our brains in a funk
And everyone's farting

The days are a haze
We slump and we list
We're fed up of Twister
And being half-pissed

Last week we were lively
Fresh-faced and perky
Now our skin's gone to pot
And our insides are turkey

The mere thought of port
Makes me want to heave
I shan't touch a drop
At least 'til New Year's Eve


-----
Soundtrack: What a Waste - Ian Dury and the Blockheads

Get Through It

What a week to be a working parent.  The children are hanging on by their fingertips to get to tomorrow when 1.30pm brings the end of school and the official start of Christmas.  They are puffy-eyed, over tired and bordering on hysteria with what next week will bring.  The curriculum has gone out of the window to be replaced (much to the children's delight) with dvd-watching, clearing out cupboards and a nativity that for all its beauty (and the best camel outfits ever to grace a church) sounded like a doctor's waiting room such was the level of coughing.  Book bags spill over with Christmas cards and sweetie wrappers as the healthy eating policy gets crushed under a sea of Quality Street from the teachers.

We are Wolves

And while they're at school I'm still working to pre-Christmas deadlines whilst accepting deliveries, sending cards and adding ever more to the festive food list - the closer we get to the 'Big Day' the bigger our appetites get - we are wolves, salivating at the thought of turkey and upping our cheese intake to make sure we at least eat something with the bottle of port waiting patiently in the cupboard.

Now where *is* that
last tree chocolate?

Sunday Best

I am trying so hard to be focused but there is part of me wishing these next couple of days away.  I'm eager to join the children in their revelry, up for letting my hair down and dreaming of those few days when I point blank refuse to do any washing.  Let the jeans and t-shirts fester in the basket, we shall wear our Sunday Best to breakfast, lunch and dinner.  I can't wait until nothing but the next game of UNO and trying to find a tree chocolate matter, and to savour that moment of giggling and shushing on Christmas Eve when we sneak the presents under the tree.  They say Christmas is just for children but I know different.

Knackered

And it's not just me - the playground is full of parents who are knackered.  We too are puffy-eyed, over tired and bordering on hysteria.  We too are hanging on by our fingertips before we can take time off; empathising and encouraging each other to give it one last push before we run out whooping and yelling into the December air - we can taste time off and it tastes like Christmas.  So come on grown-ups, one deep breath and just a few more days to go - we can get through it.

Merry Christmas everybody!


Soundtrack: Tender by Blur