Honestly, the whole festive period was just incredibly stressful and I didn’t really enjoy any of it.
I had grand ideas for how perfect it would be, traditions we could start and memories we would make. In the end it was mostly just Tuesday. With added mess. And extra tantrums due to the over-excitement of it all.
It was also the first time we visited family since the twins were born and fuck me the amount of STUFF we needed to take for a 3 night stay was unreal. Living out of a suitcase is not fun with 3 small children. Neither is having a toddler running around somebody else’s non-babyproofed house while hyped up on chocolate.
Constant sky-high anxiety.
He’s gonna break that. I’m being too lax. I’m being too harsh. Do we have any clean bottles? Where did we pack the muslins? We didn’t bring enough clothes. Why are there so many vests and so few tops? The babies won’t stay asleep when we put them down. We forgot the baby carriers so each need to carry a twin and somehow still keep hold of Caide so he doesn’t run into traffic. Linden’s puked on the sofa. Theo’s puked on the carpet. Fuck what if Caide pees on the carpet?! Caide it’s time to go to the potty! “No!”. Everyone’s judging my parenting, I know it…
It’s all just left me feeling drained, disappointed and slightly ill. That’s not how I want Christmas to be.