On Christmas Eve the puppy is found in The Teenager’s bedroom eating chocolate.  Around six bars are missing, presumed consumed. Half an hour later she returns the chocolate, in the back garden, in an enormous puking spree.

You are grateful for small mercies when your children wake you at 7am to open their presents.  Even more so when you get a text from Teacher Friend, Mother of 3 saying that her eldest woke at 2.45am.

The 7 year opened her smallest present first, and on discovering a much wanted ipod shuffle declared it the best Christmas ever.

You wonder how it is possible that you only had to untie/cut and hack one present out of it’s box, for the children, with it’s ridiculous ties.  You consider contacting The Guinness World Records to see if you qualify for an entry in the 2012 book.

When Gramps and my Stepmum arrive bearing gifts on Christmas morning, the 5 year old, rather rudely ignores his present of an army tank and action man.  I thought he was being ungrateful, it turns out he was suffering present fatigue.  Later at bedtime he sleeps with his tank next to his pillow and a rather disgruntled looking Action Man in his arms.

The six foot folding slate bed pool/snooker table, that Father Christmas bought from ebay for £30, was a fantastic purchase.  Set up in the playroom  people play throughout the day.  At one point all 14 members of the Christmas Dinner party were in there.

I  discover that the 5 year old thinks that Bono and Sting’s classic ‘Feed The World’ song is actually ‘Beaver World’.  It tickles me all day making the fact that the CD is on repeat all day more bearable.

Every year Grandma makes a trifle. This year she arrives with a half formed trifle because there had been ‘A Great Custard Shortage’. I’m sure you must have heard about it because we all did.  We manage to rib Grandma about the custard shortage for the remainder of the day.

It only takes four hours for a 5 year old to be irreversibly addicted to an XBOX.

Someone gives the 5 year old a Vuvuzela as a gift.  I am yet to find out who it was.  It was a stealth gift from the seventh circle of hell.  Every time he visits a relative I shall send it with him until someone breaks and admits guilt.

My Sister’s homemade orange liqueur looks like a urine sample from someone who has been stranded in a desert for three weeks.  It tastes like flat Fanta.  This seemed to please everyone else who enjoys her offering.  I stick to gin.

Despite the dishwasher being broken, The Husband’s constant taunts that he’s going to use every utensil in the cooking process and my anxiety dreams the washing up isn’t really a problem.  I secretly enjoy washing up, finding it therapeutic and it’s amazing what a teenager will tell you when they are unable to walk away due to a tea towel anchor.

When The Teenager announces on Twitter that she has drunk alcohol for 5 consecutive days you wonder what went wrong, but are pleased that you were only technically responsible for her for one of those days.

On Christmas Day night one of the teenagers decides that we should watch Get Him To The Greek.  This results in three adults hiding their faces at the incredibly rude bits … of which there are several.

For the first time in ten years we have no plans for Boxing Day. We lay about, do a bit of sitting around and just forget about time.  We play on the XBOX, play pool and watch films. This means that at 3pm we realise that the children have missed lunch.  Their chocolate moustaches indicate that they’ve not gone hungry.

Waiting until the children are in bed to play the ‘over 12′ XBOX games results in someone playing Halo and shouting ‘Die motherf*cker’ whilst The Teenager looks on with a mixture of embarrassment and awe.  That someone might have been me.

If one thing is for sure, my sister is going to kill me. But when I was looking through the photo albums of yesteryear I just couldn’t not use these joyous family shots.

I must have been around 4, which makes it the Christmas of 1982. We pose for the family portrait in the living room, later in the kitchen with our Christmas dinner, minus my Dad who is behind the lens; My Nan, Me, My Sister, my Mum, My Da (Grandad).

My Nan and Da lived on our street.  Every Christmas morning they would come over.  Nan, smelling of Youth Dew, face powder and wearing her best blouse, would have to leave the house first, leaving Da under strict instructions not to leave the house for 15 minutes.  This elaborate timing was “just in case a burglar was watching”.

The doll I’m clutching was named Roy, after a family friend.  My Dad was once berated in a supermarket car park for tossing Roy, who looked like a real baby, into the boot of our car with the shopping, by an old woman who accused him of child abuse.  Poor Roy, his head once fell off and he had to be re-stuffed, but I loved Roy … until I was 11 and gave him an anchor tattoo, painted his nails and shoved him in a wardrobe, never to be seen again.

Look how happy My Sister looks.  15 years old and going through a colourful make-up/punk/dress-all-in-black-stage. She is full of the joys of Christmas. The evil sideways glance, in the second photo, is making me howl.

I’m struggling to work out if the tree was silver or we had a green tree covered in an explosion of silver tinsel.  The nativity scene behind my Mum was made by my Dad, out of toilet rolls, each character coloured with pastels.  It lasted years and I’d forgotten all about it until now.

It’s also just dawned on me that I only had 8 Christmas Days with my Mum. I have incredibly happy memories of those Christmases. The house was filled with family, friends, parties, fun and laughter.  My Mum loved Christmas and she made sure that everyone had a good time.  That’s what I remember; My Mum’s silly party games, her head thrown back in laughter, her cackling with friends in the kitchen … no doubt with a cheeky sherry.

I’m sad that she’s not here to throw her head back and cackle in the kitchen with me and My Sister, over a glass or two of prosecco, as we look at the photos of Christmas 1982 and the look on my sister’s face …

But, I’m glad I can remember those Christmases.  I’m glad that we’ll have a house full of family and friends, silliness and laughter.  My Sister and I will drink too much prosecco and cackle in the kitchen … because we remember.

Gramps dropped the children off this morning. When I asked how it had gone Gramps muttered something about Santas’s Sack and then left.  Later I checked my email and discovered this nugget from him;

We had bought sweets in bags called ‘Santa’s sacks’ to take to the pantomime but forgot to take them. The contents include Gummy Rings, Compressed Rings and Gummy Pouches. On arriving back home the grandchildren instantly made for the bags of sweets. It was late; bedtime. “Leave Santa’s sack alone” I said sharply to the granddaughter and instantly thought, thank God I hadn’t said that in the theatre, in the dark, in public.

Many years ago your mother had a similar slip with an inappropriate comment. While we were sat in the large, busy reception area of the company where we both worked she saw in a magazine a picture of some actor or celebrity that resembled my brother. “That looks just like your Willie” she exclaimed in a voice that echoed around the still void.

I arrived, at church,  early, and elbowed myself to a decent seat upstairs with a good view of the choir. At these sorts of things it’s always important to make sure your child knows where you are.  Sitting there with a large flashing arrow is bad practice so everyone spends the first five minutes of any school performance identifying themselves to their child with a series of twitches and arm waving. All the parents around me spotted their children as I continued craning to see mine.  Nope, she definitely wasn’t there.

Wondering if she’d been left at school I went downstairs to question her teacher.  Looking a bit shocked, she said “Didn’t she tell you she was performing in the Christmas tableau?” Well, no she bloody well didn’t … otherwise I’d have brought the BIG camera and what in all things manger-like is a tableau? I went back upstairs, muttering to myself that I still didn’t know what a bloody tableau was, except of course I didn’t say ‘bloody’, not in a house of god, and moved to a better ‘tableau viewing point’.

The concert went something like this … Big Vicar Who Never Smiles says a few words … choir sings … some readings … more singing … Big Vicar Who Never Smiles tells church about the collection plate at back of church … tableau forms at front of church … I work out that a tableau is a formation of non speaking people … my daughter is a mute innkeeper … tableau returns to sit behind alter … the mute innkeeper keeps mouthing something to me.

She is approximately 6 metres away from me and her face is partially obscured by an elaborate iron frame.  I struggle to work out what she’s mouthing. I keep mouthing back “What?”. As everyone starts to belt out Away in a Manger I think I’ve got it.  She keeps mouthing “I need a bell”.

I’m trying to remember at what point in a nativity the innkeeper has a bell and why on earth she hadn’t mentioned a) the fact she was performing in the ‘tableau’ and that b) she needed a bloody bell.

Shrugging I mouth back ‘I haven’t got a bell’.  She looks confused.  We all sit down again to listen to the Big Vicar Who Never Smiles telling us that Christmas isn’t just about presents. She continues mouthing at me.  I keep mouthing back ‘I don’t have one’ and gesticulating the international sign for ‘all gone’.  I stop short at emptying the contents of my handbag and holding it high above my head with the lining hanging out.  I realise that the man standing next to me, the Father of the child playing Mary, probably thinks I’m mad.  I whisper to him “She needs a bell”.  He looks at me like I’ve just confirmed his fear that I am mad.

Then it’s all over. Parent’s of children in the tableau are urged to go and take pictures of their children. I go over at which point I realise she looks a bit grey. I ask her why she didn’t tell me she needed a bell.  She tells me that she doesn’t need a bell and it dawns on me that the words she kept mouthing were  “I don’t feel well”

So we are now at home, her a little green behind the gills and  snuggling a puppy for medicinal purposes. I just need gin.

Cadbury’s have given me a Cadbury’s Ultimate Hamper (RRP £80) to give away to one of you lucky people.  It’ll take you until July to finish that lot off. Who am I kidding?

All you have to do is leave me a comment below telling me what your favourite Christmas food is.  My favourite Christmas food is sprouts.  Shhhhh at the back there, don’t judge.

The competition closes at midday on Friday where I’ll be picking a winner at random.  I will need an address from the winner by midnight on Friday so that the hamper can be sent out on Saturday morning.  Open to UK residents only.

For an extra entry tweet the following … I want to win Laura’s Cadbury’s Ultimate Hamper competition http://bit.ly/vDy1LR #lauraloveschocolate

White Rabbit England sent us one of their nightlights. The minute I saw it I fell in love and realised that I would be unable to hide it away in a bedroom.  It now has pride of place on our living room shelves.  It’s stunning and everyone who has seen it has commented.  There is a fluffy white rabbit doll with a story book to compliment the lamp.  Co-founder, Charlotte says “The idea is to get little ones in to a bedtime routine, switch on our rabbit lamp, read the story and cuddle the rabbit!” Buy it for a child or buy it for yourself *cough*, one thing’s for sure, I love the passion which oozes from White Rabbit England and I think everyone should have a white rabbit watching over them, be they 5 or 33.

Great British food experts, Forman & Field,  decided to surprise me by sending me a luxurious hamper.  The contents didn’t disappoint. There was wild salmon, potted lobster, lemon curd, a selection of cheeses, a box of chocolates, a pork pie, a chocolate brownie cake, a banana loaf and some mince pies.  It’s the sort of food that screams out to be savoured, not shoved into one’s mouth and swallowed without further thought. They sent me a brochure which I lingered over longer than I probably should. I worked my way through the sections; fishmonger,  cheese monger, butcher, deli, hampers. By the time I got to the patisserie section I was salivating a little. I like the idea of giving the gift of food, whether it’s London Smoked salmon or Dorset Knob Biscuits *snigger*.

We were sent The Secrets of Mercy Hall by Garth Edwards. The 7 year old was VERY excited at receiving this book having already read the first book from The Thorngate Trilogy, Escape From Mercy Hall.  The books are full of intrigue, mild peril, strong characters  and perfectly suited for a 7 year old with an appetite for chapter books.  The book follows the exploits of eight year old Milly, and nine year old George and Samuel, as they escape from the grey world of a Victorian orphanage into a land of curious and unsettling modernity. The books remind me of a mixture of The Magic Faraway Tree, Narnia and Alice in Wonderland which I find exciting. Do you hear that?  That’s the 7 year old tapping her finger impatiently urging Garth Edwards to get on and publish the third book.

Garden Games sent us a Jumbo Connect 4 and a Giant Chess set.  For an old fashioned gamer like me these games are heaven. I love the competition, the frustration and the sense of achievement when we play non-electronic games together. We’re a big fan of these over-sized games from Garden Games, and have a Giant Jenga  which always gets an airing during parties. The Connect 4 has caused a few arguments between myself and the 5 year old, who seems to think it’s Connect 3.  Although it’s a ‘Garden Game’ it’s not so big that it can’t be used inside during the Winter month.  We’re saving the chess set until Spring when we can get it out in the garden. I’ve promised I’ll teach the 7 year old how to play and I can’t wait.

For research purposes the 7 year old and I did some kitchen dancing to one of our Christmas CDs just to make sure which was my ultimate song.  Whilst I chair danced she pirouetted round the kitchen and concluded that she likes it because it reminds her of the film Home Alone … our favourite Christmas film … “Keep the change  you filthy animal”.

So here is a version by The Drifters. Pass the sherry …

I pass the Ultimate Christmas song gauntlet to Insomniac Mummy, Babylon Tales, Cheshire Mum,  Two Teens a Dog and Me and Tiddleyompompom.  Hit me with your festive tunes ladies.

This year, though, I have found My List Is Here which lets me build lists from over 500,000 products across more than 300 high street and online stores (including Selfridges, Debenhams, Play.com, Gap and Vodafone).

I signed up (easy peasy) and started building my Christmas wish list. I can even add hilarious notes for people next to each item, for extra hinting purposes.  Here is my list. You’ll see I’m not asking for much, but what I am asking for is something that I DEFINITELY want and need.

If you’re buying a new home, planning a wedding or birthday the possibilities are endless. I’m planning on starting up a ‘dream home’ list … all the things I’d like to have when I win the lottery cough.

I love my list is here. I love that I can share it, easily, with family and friends and I’ll definitely be using it in the future for all manner of events.

If I was really bitter about The Husband’s lack of hint uptake I could do a Wedding List for when I marry the man who will get my gifts without prompting cough. But luckily, with the help of my list is here I won’t have to. Will I?!

What better way to count down to Christmas than with a beautiful advent calendar from Playmobil? A great alternative to chocolate, and certainly longer lasting, Playmobil Advent Calendars come with a stunning scene to complete in the lead up to Christmas. Each of the 24 windows has a wonderful surprise to add to the set, finishing with a glorious set on Christmas Eve which will provide hours of creative play.  And because everything from Playmobil is made to the same scale, once Christmas is over, the pieces will fit into any existing sets children might have or even get for Christmas.

Christmas Post Office – Santa’s Christmas Post Office comes with everything he needs to sort all the children’s letters and deliver presents to all the good little boys and girls.  A fairy and elf are at hand to help Santa load the sleigh and the reindeer is ready to deliver all the children’s presents this Christmas.

To be in with a chance to win please leave a comment below.  Winners will be pulled from a hat on Friday 25th of November.

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CONGRATULATIONS TO CARA, I WILL BE IN TOUCH SHORTLY!

Operation Christmas Child is an amazing initiative which has been helping underprivileged children around the world for 20 years.  All you need is a shoebox wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper and a few gifts for a child.

The 5 and 7 year old do a box each. They love to get involved, helping to wrap the box and put the things in.  We talk about how an underpriviliged child may feel when they open the shoebox that we have sent.

Last year nearly 1.2 million shoeboxes were packed and sent from the UK to children who need them most in some of the toughest parts of the world, including Haiti, where this little girl is from.

If I can, hopefully, make two children smile like that then maybe you can too?

It’s easy, just start here … http://www.operationchristmaschild.org.uk/how-to-pack-your-shoebox