The reality of Christmas with kids

The ‘first Christmas’ outfits and filtered family shots with smiling faces…

Scrolling through Facebook or Instagram it would be easy to think that Christmases with young children are textbook festive magic. Of course there are lovely heart warming moments but now I’m in the thick of it with a two-year-old and four-week-old I can assure you that any picture perfect photos are mere snap shots amongst the usual day-to-day chaos and against background pressure to enjoy the perfect day.

Poor daddy on the late feeding shift on Christmas Eve was dreaming of several beers, a good film and the leisurely construction of Harriet’s new play kitchen. Instead he found it to be an endurance exercise on every level. A baby demanding bottle after bottle and crying every time he was put down so daddy could use the screwdriver resulted in a very late night/early morning.

Mummy on the overnight shift had to get up ridiculously extra extra early to guarantee a shower as mummy knew that if it didn’t happen then it wouldn’t happen at all and she didn’t want to spend Christmas day in milk-stained PJs.

Any sense of timing for anything was thrown out of the window as Sam wanted feeding at impossibly small intervals and/or Harriet repeatedly claimed she needed a ‘wee wee poo poo’ (all false alarms but as we’re at the start of our potty training we have to whip out the potty enthusiastically) as soon as there was any chance of adults opening their presents or having a quick sit down and prosecco.

Christmas dinner was bouncing the baby seat in a cramp inducing way while shovelling down the pigs in blankets and turkey knowing that Sam’s snuffling was soon going to turn into a full on hungry wail.

The over stimulated, over tired toddler… enough said.

Idyllic visions of Harriet sitting and enjoying The Snowman and other Christmas classics went out the window and instead we had to suffer the same Peppa Pig episodes as every other day of the year.

Did we post Christmas shots? Of course we did- captured memories of Harriet leaving a mince pie for Father Christmas for the first time and Harriet’s unexpected first kiss for her little brother, but this blog is intended to be the subtext- the reassurance that pictures don’t always tell the whole story!

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