Too Early to Nowell?

I suppose one good thing about Christmas coming earlier each year is that in times of infant defiance, you get  longer to blackmail your children with Phone Calls To Santa.  I find that at this time of season, a simple "Hello Santa?" into my mobile is enough to blow any bottom-lipped mutiny into smithereens of Sudden Compliance.

But today we had one of those super magazine-mummy moments when calm reigned utterly. For one blissful half hour, no one smashed anyone with sofa cushions or accused anyone of being stinky.  They lay across the floor drawing pictures, said please and thank you to various things, and even the dog was smiling. (But note to self: did anyone pop in unannounced to witness this and be amazed at the wonders of my mothering?  No, they bleeding didn't. But when there's cacophonic chaos and things strewn, oh yes; then, in they flock...)

Anyway. Not being one to miss a choice opportunity, I asked what they might like Santa to bring them this year for being Really-Really-Good-Like-This-At-All-Times.

I don't object to children believing in Santa, and I was shocked recently when one eyes-a-flame mother unleashed an unsolicited jeremiad on me suggesting I should. But I do see that it is slightly double-edged. On the one hand, it is incredibly endearing; this wide-eyed, unsuspicious trust in an all-benevolent old man who sails through the skies to deliver real reward for all the Being Good they have done.  There is such an innocent charm to it that of course you don't want it dispelled; that would be proof that they are growing into harder, more cynical, thinking beings...and God forbid.  But on the other hand, when the Santa list includes "Long Haired Pig (real one)", "Totem pole like the one at Virginia Water", "Granny to Come Back Down From the Sky" and "Mega Mindy costume, dolls and Absolutely Everything Else" (when on earth will poor Santa find time to shop in Holland?), you do also need to find some clever way to prepare them for disappointment.

To distract them somewhat from the impossibilities of their hopes, I asked what Santa should bring Daddy and I.

The oldest was immediately adamant.  Daddy would need beer, some books, something for his bike, new rugby boots, a tool kit, and something to take his headache away. The youngest nodded in approval and that was that.

"And me?" I said, quite hopefully.

There was silence.  After a while, J looked at me.  "The thing is, Mummy, when it was your birthday you told Daddy the Only Thing You Wanted In The Whole Wide World was a Banjo".  (Ok, I admit it, I did say that) "And now you've got it. So there isn't anything else you'd want." (Damn me and my absolutes).  "But that doesn't matter Mummy, because you can enjoy watching everyone else open their presents." (Hrrmph)

The younger one looked up from her picture of Fairy Wars (yes, really - the head fairy wears a black helmet and does funny breathing).  "I know what Santa should bring for Mummy, " she said decidedly.  "What, darling?" I asked in hopeful anticipation.  She went back to a detailed sketch of Fairy, Shot By Arrow.

"Easy," she said.  "Make-up.  Lots and LOTS of make-up".

Right then.  There's one little girl who will be getting bath salts in her Christmas stocking....

I want one of those...

Because I thought I sounded moany in the last entry, here's a cheery one.  How FABULOUS is this?  All my friends are happily represented here! Someone please tell me how to justify buying it?!

BUENAVENTURA PRESS
What a super place!

AFTERTHOUGHT
Although I don't think I know any snipers.  At least, I do hope not.

Oh Lordy.  That'll be the next thing...

From one black hole to another...

Ok, sometimes I need to remind myself to step back and recall that there is always a bigger picture. Things that occasionally seem to matter, and really really matter, can perhaps be relegated to their rightful place entitled Pointless. It's like the dog-hairy-dust that piles together under the piano. It probably shouldn't be there, but since I'm the only one who knows, where's the harm? One day, one day, I'll bend down and move it. When I remember.

Good old Nasa, hey, for knowing when to be helpful. Their Astronomy Picture of the Day page is just the ticket when you need to come up for air. And much as some of the pictures do make me want to lie down and grip the earth I'm on, lest I slide off into all that velvet blackness, it does also cautiously whisper that in the long run, whatever certain people shriek and however shreddingly they shriek it, this incredibly unfathomable universe around us really isn't that bothered. And therefore perhaps neither should we be.

"Think of all those people in China who don't give a damn," someone said recently.

I am really trying. But I am also getting crosser too. Push me MUCH more, you, and I'll blog it. ALL of it.