Hours of wrapping, losing the scissors, tape, pen, scissors, tape and pen over and over. The fight to find the end of the tape drives you crazy, finally though you’re all done and it all looks pretty, only to be destroyed in two seconds on Christmas morning or tree pressies on Boxing Day.
Somehow in the madness you miss the faces of joy or disappointment as the whirlwind hits the living room which has turned in to a huge rubbish pile.
Mums flapping as she tries so hard to keep on top of the paper which flys in every direction apart from the bin bag.
Presents are lost under the ever-growing mountain of paper.
Your hands bleed from the ties they use to hold the toys in the boxes, and as soon as you’ve unpacked one toy, the little ones have already moved onto the next toy.
So the fight continues to get it unpacked before nanny has thrown part of the toy that’s hanging on for dear life in the box that doesn’t want to come out.
Then you have the tears as you have forgotten to buy the right size batteries.
All the while my daughter is still holding tight to the creeper teddy that she opened first and still has half a stocking to unwrap. I’m sat there trying to convince her that she has more to open before DJ claims them for himself.
The puppy has his head under the tree, wanting to rip the paper off every present that hasn’t been given out, claiming them as his.
This is the magic of Christmas.
Christmas dinner for once goes smoothly, nothing burns and the timing is prefect, wine is flowing along with pints and pints of beer.
Drunken smiles and laughter echo around and bellies full.
Isn’t this what we have all pictured the perfect Christmas to be?
Until I make the mistake of raising a glass to the loved ones that aren’t here.
To me that happens to be very very important.
Thankfully though the tears that well up soon disappear from their eyes as DJ throws his food at MK.
That moment is forgotten by them all apart from me.
I guess we are meant to be jolly after all, but sadly my heart has a huge empty space which somehow seems bigger at this time of year.
So the adults get drunker, the music louder and the children play.
And I watch the small moments that no one else notices, the little smiles, the game play, the thoughtfulness of my daughters game.
To me this has to be the best part of Christmas.
Watching her in her own little world, at peace with her world.
Living out her dreams in her game.
You don’t need Christmas to have those special moments.