Stephanie Connolly  Writer   Wife   Mumma   &  Shoe Queen    ;-)                     
 
Et voila! Crimbo & New Year all wrapped up again for another 4 seasons. And, though I love the fun and festivities, it is with a little sigh of relief that I slip comfortably back into normality.

I have flicked a cheeky finger at my superstitious-self by whipping the dec’s down a whole 6 days before the ‘12-Day’ rule. I did it yesterday. The tree, the garlands, the lights, the cards and the ornaments all packed neatly in the garage for next year. I concluded that it’s probably only unlucky to take them down early if you believe it is. And I don’t.

I’ve also decided not to make any resolutions this year either. In my experience resolutions only serve to make me feel unnecessarily guilty when, come Jan 5th, they are no longer in tact. So it kinda makes sense not to promise myself anything in the first place.

Of course there are plenty of life’s little pleasures that I ought to give up,  (chocolate, Diet Coke, Vodka . . . )  And plenty I could do with more of, (apples, exercise, shoes . . . ) and there are loads of random things I wanna achieve too, (help rescue orang-utans in Borneo, run the New York Marathon, sponsor a roundabout, that kinda thing . . . ) But I definitely don’t need to begin 2010 with more pressure and commitment upon my shoulders.

According to Wikipedia, NY resolutions have a teeny tiny 12% chance of success. And we all resolve to change the same stuff too. Year after year our motto’s and missions remain the same. To avoid failure, which I don’t do well, I am officially declaring that I’m not gonna change a single thing. ;-)

Having said that however there are a few things I‘ll definitely be leaving in 2009. I haven’t a choice. They’ve already gone. First to disappear was my gorgeous Red Lipstick. Which sucks since I’d grown rather fond of it of late, tis very rare to find such a good shade of red for my rather uneven pout. Alas it rolled it’s way outta my clutch on NYE never to be seen again. 

I have toyed with the idea of telephoning the Casino, to ask if it has been handed in, yet I fear they might underestimate the value of such an item and could therefore not take the matter as seriously as they should. Perhaps if I pretended it was some kind of spy device they’d return it to me? Just a thought.

So with the exception of the absence of my lippy, and the new dry-cleaning bill for removing the kebab grease from my red coat, (one cannot conclude a classy night out without a greasy meal of some kind after all) not a lot has changed in my world since last year.

I told you I was a good girl in 2009 and my sweetness did not go unnoticed. For Father C did indeed fill my stockings well! He didn’t exactly grant me with every little request on my list, but he did get me many a fabulous treat. And one of my fave gifts has been my new Wii Fitness Plus thingy. I cannot get enough of it. I have hula-hooped, dressed as a penguin and practised my balance, cycled, jogged, boxed and taken part in rhythm Kung Fu, all whilst still in my PJ’s in my very own living room. So far I’ve been on it everyday this year ;-) 

I feel tense, but good tense, achy, but satisfied. So I think I’m gonna make a habit of it, use the Wii to get extra fit and healthy this year. *Obviously that’s not a resolution though. lol

Hope your own resolutions are still intact? ;-)

Steph x

 
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Somebody has stolen my hot water. And it isn’t funny because I really want to get in the tub, I need to wash my hair before Santa comes, (Santa doesn’t bring presents to dirty girls.) 

I hadn’t intended on writing tonight, I thought I would be frantically wrapping pressies and tidying the house as is the norm for me at this time of the year. However, (and I don’t wanna count my chickens early and all that) something miraculous has happened. I seem to have Christmas and all the preparations in the bag already ;-)

I don’t know how I did it. I’ve got Steph Flu and everything. Yet despite my poorliness and despite the snow, which is still settled and glistening all over our neck of the woods, I managed to complete mission Christmas with more speed and efficiency than Anneka Rice on speed. And I’m not even wearing a shell-suit.

The pressies are sitting pretty in their newly acquired gift wrap and bows, and the kitchen now houses many a festive treat. The Fridge is full of baileys and beers, the mistletoe hung, the stockings ready, all that is missing is the main man himself. Who of course won’t be coming unless I clean my hair. I hope who ever stole my hot water returns it soon. 

Whilst I am waiting patiently for the emulsion boiler thingy to kick in, (is this right?!) I thought I’d come pay you a visit.

This is my darling son Leo’s first Christmas. Of course he knows very little of the season to be jolly, though he tends to be pretty jolly most of the time anyway, I’ve just tucked him into bed, his little face grinning from ear to ear. He likes to kick the covers off in order to watch is exasperated Mumma tuck him in over and over again. Tis a game he has become rather fond of, he giggles the entire time. Cheeky boy.

I can’t help but think of his big brother at the moment. Especially since we would have been celebrating Harry’s first birthday in 2 days time, if he had have been born on time. I only hope that wherever he is, he’s safe and happy, and that he knows how much his Mumma loves him.

That’s the thing about Christmas, it magnifies ones life and highlights the important things, the things we’ve achieved, the things we haven’t,  those we’ve loved and those we’ve lost. It’s no wonder so many people suffer at this time of year. 

I am looking at my own life in such a positive light though, I know I’ll see my baby boy again someday, but until then I’m enjoying what I do have. I can’t believe I’ve been blessed with two gorgeous, angelic children, I must have done something really good in a previous life to have them. 
 
Material presents aside I am feeling very lucky this year, even if Santa doesn’t come I reckon I’ve already got the greatest gifts I could hope to achieve and I don’t care how corny that sounds.

As well as the Crimbo decorations, and the newly acquired crystals, candles and other bits and bobs we purchased when we decorated the living room the other week, we have two new additions to the lounge. Two rather massive glass awards with Jay’s name on them ;-)

On Saturday night my extremely deserving husband was promoted from Area Sales Manager to Senior Sales Manager. And not just because he’s getting old either ;-) He’s worked his derriere off this year to ensure that the team he manages have risen above the rest and I’m so proud of him.

So proud. Couldn’t be prouder. Very happy for him. Really very happy. *But also a teeny, weeny, tiny bit jealous. :-/

Don’t be outraged. I know I sound ridiculous. I don’t mean to be jealous it’s just that, well, I’ve never won an award before. 

Seriously 26 years on this planet and the closest thing I’ve ever got to an award was the little medal that they give out to everyone that takes part in the Race For Life.

My chosen occupation can be very lonely. It’s just me and my laptop, and my laptop never tells me when I’ve written something good, (though is very quick to put a red squiggly line under any mistakes I might make!) so you see? No team work, no Christmas Do’s in lavish hotels and no awards ceremony. 

As much as I love writing I can’t help but be green with envy. (or is that dirt?! Oh where the hell is my hot water?!!)

Sunday morning,  whilst I was feeling incredibly fragile owing to the Steph Flu and also the amount of alcohol consumed on Saturday night, Jay returned from his 5 star Christmas Do and proudly displayed the awards he’d won, and I smiled and cried at the same time.

I told him how very proud and very jealous I was and explained to him how I longed to be presented with an award of my own. 

And the moment that succeeded this was one I shall never erase from my heart.

Footsteps tinkered down the hall and rustling could be heard in my bedroom before my little princess returned to the living room and instructed me to close my eyes. 

Obligingly I held out my hands and closed my eyes, and when I opened them again I found myself presented with my famous red heels. The same pair I wore in the photo for the front cover of my book.

Tears in my eyes I glanced back to my sweet daughter, her face lit with excitement. And watched in awe as she started to clap her little hands. 

‘To you Mummy,’ she said in her little high-pitched voice, ‘your award for being the best Mummy and Writer in the world.’

And my heart melted then and there.

Okay so I’ve not quite conquered all in my world. I’m not yet the greatest writer on earth (a girl can dream though,) and I’m not yet worthy of an award of my very own, but I am, in the big blue eyes of my offspring, the bestest Mummy. And who could ask for more than that?!

Merry Christmas and love to all!

Steph x

 
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Punctuality has never really been my thing. And it is with shame that I make that statement. Alas even with the greatest of intentions and all the will in the world I never have been able to perfect my time-keeping skills. Tis a flaw that gets me into trouble time and time again. No pun intended ;-)

I therefore have refrained from sending a very stroppy email to the North Pole today, for I fear it is my tardiness that is to blame for the absence of one of the pressies on my list to Saint Nick.

Perhaps if I’d returned my list sooner he might have had time to make the necessary negotiations with the Weather Man. To ensure that the snow did not fall upon our little village last night as I’d specifically requested. Alas I guess once again I was too late.  

I know I did state that I didn’t want a white ‘Christmas’. And I am also aware that ‘Christmas’ isn’t actually until next week. Yet I assume that Father C knew what I meant, he is magical after-all, and he should know that as a woman I am fully within my rights to say one thing and mean another.

Ah well, I have been a very good girl this year, so hopefully all the other stuff on my list will appear :-)

Generally speaking 6:30am and I do not meet very often. Unless I am still awake from the night before, or am going on holiday or something. Well last night I went to bed at a reasonable hour and did not have plans for holidaying today, so you can imagine my surprise when I found myself wide awake and face-to-face with the digits ‘6:30’am flashing furiously on my phone.

‘It’s snowed!’ Jay whispered. ’Come and see!’

And as though I might have doubted him had I not witnessed for myself, my excited husband led me by the hand, down the hall and into the living room where we stood surveying the snow-covered, bright white street.

Michael McIntyre (my fave comedian of all time,) makes a little joke in one of his stand-up gigs that a man should never ever wake his wife on her day off unless it has snowed or a celebrity has died. And Jay seems to take this rule very seriously indeed. He never normally wakes me when I’m due a lay-in. This morning though I’m so glad he did. Because it was absolutely beautiful.

Together we padded through the house hand in hand, viewing the picture-postcard scenes from every possible angle of the comfort of our warm house. We checked the drive. Beautiful. We gasped at the garden. Even more beautiful. We tiptoed into Lori’s bedroom for a glimpse of the front garden. Again very beautiful.

And eventually, once we’d decided that yes, the snow had made everything indeed beautiful we climbed back into bed and whispered excitedly until we’d nodded back off to sleep.

Of course snow is all well and good when one has nowhere in particular to be. So today Santa, the Weather Man, Mother Nature and Climate Change can all be forgiven for granting us with a winter wonderland in Wymington, yet I’m slightly nervous that should the snow continue to fall my rellies might be a tad disappointed when they tear open the wrapping paper I have already purchased and find a pressie of Sweet F.A inside.

Because *Shock, horror* I haven’t yet finished my Christmas Shopping. And if the snow continues all the shops will shut, I won’t be able to drive (I can barely drive in fine weather, let alone snow) and the presents I intend on buying next week will remain on the shelves til next year.

Now I’m thinking I should have added ‘punctuality’ and ‘better organisational skills’ to my Christmas list this year, cos right now both are looking more useful than the sable. :-/

Steph x
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Santa Baby, 

Just slip a sable, (whatever that might be) under the tree, for me. 

I’ve been an awfully good girl. Especially if you ignore the incident that took place a few days ago.

I didn’t mean to throw my middle finger in the air. And I have no idea how that terribly offensive word flew out of my mouth at such volume. Honestly I never normally use such language. Least of all in public. But you see it was raining, and I was drenched. And that car plunged directly into a puddle of about 10 inches in depth causing an almighty tidal wave to come crashing down on me in my new coat and well . . . He sort of deserved what I accidentally called him. 

I know by now you must have made your list and checked it twice so you probably already know who’s naughty and nice. Hopefully the fact that I was punished for the aforementioned outburst, by a major dose of embarrassment as I had to stand in the playground amongst the Mums that had witnessed the scene and now are probably under the impression that I am a tourettes sufferer or something, will mean that the episode of naughtiness is well and truly behind us and you can put me back on the nice list?

 

I promise not to let it happen again. Just this afternoon, for example, I broke the heel on my beautiful boots whilst tottering around Asda and I barely muttered the ‘f’ word under my breath. So there’s a start?!

The thing is Santa Baby, I know bad language is probably frowned upon by you and your Elves, but it can be very therapeutic. And sometimes quite necessary. So I sincerely hope you still come down the Chimney to bring me my presents this year.

So anyway, back to my list. As well as the sable, might I also have a higher metabolism this year too? I’ve heard they are quite necessary for those of us who wish to have the body of a supermodel whilst still indulging in the yummy foods that are compulsory to scoff over the Christmas period? I will of course start my diet on New Years Day, (as I do every year) and will of course be more dedicated this year than any other, (as I am every year) - it’s just that the metabolism might help for the next few weeks. (I fully intend on testing the mince pies for you, you see, before we leave them out on Crimbo Eve.)

Santa Baby . . . I know everyone else is dreaming of a white Christmas, but I’d appreciate it if you could save the snow for the North Pole, cause it’s kinda cold enough this year. Numb fingers and faces all aglow may sound idyllic in carols, but they’re rather unattractive in real life. If my face really must be all aglowing could you ensure it is doing so with Benefit High Beam and Saint Tropez fake tan instead? Thank you. :-)

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a phone. I’ve spilt Diet Coke all over my one and no amount of resuscitating, disassembling and drying in the airing cupboard will bring it back to life this time. I promise in the future to not put opened bottles in my handbag.

Also, Santa Baby, I know it’s not very politically correct these days, but I wondered if you might send me a servant? Or a slave? I’m not fussy :-) It’s just that I don’t want to waste valuable time doing washing and cleaning and bed-making and stuff.  I don’t mind if my slave is human or robotic or anything really, however this request is of utmost importance so please sprinkle a little extra speed dust, (not drugs, of course, but the stuff you use for your sleigh) in order to deliver this present without delay :-)

Now I’d like you to take a moment to think, if you would, of all the fun I’ve missed. Think of all the fella’s that I haven’t kissed . . . ? Next year I could be just as good if you check out my Christmas list?

So Santa Baby, that’s my list and really it’s not a lot. I’ve been an angel all year, Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney on the 24th.

Love Steph x x x

 
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  I suspect that some of you may have found yourselves accidentally seduced into reading this post solely on the temptations of the rather suggestive title . . .  Tut, Tut. How naughty you are ;-) But just to clarify . . . Who dear? Me dear? Explicit dear? No dear! What kinda gal do you take me for? Lol

 

But seriously, I’m sorry if I’ve lured you in under false hopes. But I really couldn’t think of a more appropriate title for what I am about to disclose.

 

So please do take heed and only read on if you are a fully fledged member of Adulthood. For this post could shatter dreams and cause heartache everywhere if it were to fall upon the eyes of the innocent. And I seriously don’t want to be responsible for that.

 

I am already carrying the increasing weight of a ton of guilt. And each and every time I look into those big blue eyes of hers another ounce is added to the load. She wants to talk about it all the time now that Christmas is fast approaching. And I feel awful for keeping up the pretence of an entire tale of complete fabrication. Honestly I don’t know how I can sleep at night.

 

It’s been five years already. And once a year, as the day draws closer I find myself obliged to tell lie after lie after lie. And as my Nan says, ‘what a web we do weave, when at first we choose to deceive.’

 

The web of lies surrounding this time of year, or one specific night to be exact, is becoming more and more tangled. And I wonder how I’ll ever be able to get myself out of it when the time comes. The dreaded time when I am expected to confirm the suspicions of a child growing more cynical with age. When she asks me outright and I have to confess that A. He isn’t real. And B. Her Mummy is a liar.

 

You see, I know all parents are expected to say stuff like this, but she really is a bright little girl. She’s intelligent beyond her years and for this reason alone she has earnt my respect. I don’t like to lie to her. I like to answer her questions with honesty. And so my Lorelei looks to her Mummy for guidance. For facts. For love and comfort. And for the truth.

 

And I wonder whether she’ll ever be able to trust me again when the truth comes out?

 

It broke my heart the day that I discovered the truth behind the web of lies woven by the adults around me when I was a kid. I remember it distinctly.

 

Mum was in the tub. I sat with her on the toilet seat, as I always did, swinging my legs and chatting away happily. It was the beginning of December and my 8th Christmas was fast approaching.

 

I’d heard the rumours already. From the more sophisticated and worldy members of my class at school.  But I didn’t want to believe them. In fact I concluded that they would be the unlucky kids, crossed off the list for disbelief and punished with empty stockings and uneaten mince pies. But just to be really sure, I went to the one person I knew I could trust to tell me straight. And so slowly I sought the truth. With my heart pumping and a heavy weight in my tummy.

 

‘Mummy, is it true that Father Christmas isn’t real?’ I spoke.

And several slow moments later my response came in the form of a guilt-ridden nod.

 

At that point in time I found myself forced to question all the characters in my life that I had never seen but always believed to be there. The Easter Bunny. Jack Frost. The Tooth Fairy. And one-by-one those characters that I’d based my foundations and life philosophy upon faded into oblivion.

 

I am all too aware that one day my children are going to know that their Mummy was actually the bearer of a lot of bullshit over the years. And I hope they can forgive me.

 

Yesterday Jay and I took the kids to ‘Gullivers’ theme park in Milton Keynes. We had a fabulous time, the park was great. Although I am thinking that perhaps ‘Gullible’s’ might be a more appropriate name.  For tearing around in the cool winter sun was a million little gullibles, completely oblivious to the fact that they are so obviously being mugged off by their own ‘rents.

 

  We ate doughnuts, (the kind that cannot be recreated by ever the best bakers, the kind that you can only get from fairs and stuff.) We drank Hot Chocolate. We watched shows. Rode on carousals. Sang Christmas carols underneath the softly falling (pretend) snow and walked through a winter wonderland on route to see the big man himself.

 

Lorelei sat next to him, old Saint Nick, and on her best behaviour and displaying her very best manners she politely introduced herself, humbly asked him for the things she so desperately hopes to receive on Christmas morning, (a Baby Alive, a Nintendo Wii . . . ) wished him a Merry Christmas and waved goodbye, (explaining her hopes to meet with him again on Christmas Eve.)

 

The way her little face lit up when she saw him. I doubt I’ll ever be able to confess now.

 

You see the thing is I actually find myself going out of my way to keep up the whole pretence. It is not enough for my children to merely believe, oh no, I have to go the whole hog to prove he’s real. He eats the mince pies and drinks the beer, for example. Sometimes he even leaves muddy boot prints on the carpet. And Rudolph munches the carrot we leave for him too.

 

Though I must confess that whilst Santa is amazing, he never brings Lori the bigger presents on her list. They always come from Mummy and Daddy, (obviously can’t let him take all the credit!)

 

The thing is I believe that imagination feeds the soul. Without imagination I for one, would find life a little crappy. So at the expense of being known to my kids as a bullshitter I am continuing to try my utmost to create magical childhood memories for my little cherubs.

 

And for all the lies told, the stories made-up, the ‘ooohing’ and ‘ahhing’ and ‘look who’s been?!’ it’s totally worth it just for the precious expression of amazement on her face when she rises on Christmas Morn.

 

Your turn now! :-) Can you remember the moment when you discovered? Do you play it up for your own offspring?

 

Let us all repent our sins together :-)

 

Steph x

 
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