I do not mean to overshare but like many people, I have a rich fantasy life. I know!
I thought on New Years Day I would wake up early before everyone else and make the most divine cup of tea before meditating, greeting the new year with an “om”, then I would serenely wake my family who would all be delighted to be awake early. We would walk the dog for an hour, then we would make a delicious but wholesome breakfast that we would enjoy together. They would then do improving things while I glided around the kitchen making a roast. The bestie would arrive and be met with a warm, tidy house filled with good spirit. The monkeys would go to their Mum’s and we would sit on the sofa, debating Russian literature until it was time for her to go. We’d then clean up while listening to tunes and smiling about the great day we’d had.
What actually happened was at midnight the dog got spooked by the fireworks. After barking for 10 minutes to express his displeasure at the commotion, he then did a massive spew on our bedroom floor. He continued being sick for the next four hours so the beloved spent the night comforting the dog and cleaning.
At 7 am the littlest monkey woke and was filled with devilment. Was she heck as like going to behave. She started by trying to wake her sisters by pretending she was a horse loudly until she was found whinnying at a sleeping monkey. After she’d succeeded in her nefarious plan to wake half the street, the monkeys were plonked in front of the telly while I mopped floors and the beloved made breakfast.
Trying to make bacon and brie sandwiches for six when you are sleep deprived is a challenge so after burns, breakages and all the swear words the husband went back to bed. I then started the roast dinner with Mum peeling veg and telling me to calm down as I was frankly delightful to be near at this point.
The bestie arrived and we were all about to sit down for dinner when my husband’s parents called. They’d declined the lunch invitation but had changed their minds and would be here in an hour for pudding. I can’t blame them; my Mum’s profiteroles are the best.
At this point, the house is full, messy, loud and smelling like sick dog. This is not the dream people! Then just as their Mum is due to pick them up eldest monkey decided she wanted to stay the night with us. The day ended with us watching Miss Congeniality while munching toast and pork pie and patting the pooch.
New Years Day was ruined! My serene, life-affirming New Year was goosed. Cue Fizzy temper tantrum. But…
It was the best start to a new year I’d had in ages. It was honest. Yes, it was derailed at every turn. Yes, it was messy and smelly. Yes, it was worrying and sleep deprived but we got through it. Everyone joined in to get stuff done. All the little stuff didn’t matter. We fed people, we kept them warm, we made them laugh and hopefully they felt loved. Even if the dog is still feeling sorry for himself.
There is so much pressure to have the perfect day or moment, for everything to be pretty and twinkly but sometimes the good stuff is in the chaos and craziness of getting on with what you have.