The power of christ(mas) compels you, Santa!

‘Fuck.’ I sit upright in bed.
‘What?’ as the Irish one turns over groggily.  
‘It’s four am!’ Pulling the covers back and tearing open my swollen lids.
‘Fuuuuuuuck.’ Pulling the covers back over himself and pretending he doesn’t care.
‘Get up NOW!’ throwing the baby over my shoulder and kicking the bed.

And that is how, the day I had been dreading since time began, (A slight exaggeration maybe, so ok, I will amend it so it is a less dramatic- more truthful version!) That is how the day I had been dreading since Addison’s time began, (See?  For those of you who don’t like creative writing? Now I am managing both dramatic and honest) commenced. Badly.

We had overslept. 

Of course we had! Both mobile alarms had been set for days, months, YEARS! (I really can’t help the drama. It’s in my blood.) And yet somehow we still managed to oversleep. How?? I really don’t know. (Mr Sod at his bloody best) I am pretty sure I didn’t even manage to get 4 winks, never mind the pre-promised 40 and yet somehow we managed it. We had overslept by a full, planned to a tee, lets get ready at a relaxing pace, let mammy get her bowels in order in preparation for the flight ahead, hour!

At this point, so early in the proceedings (4am!!) I would love to be able to introduce you, once again, to the Benny Hill theme tune. Except, I do not need to, as the general ambience of both my own mood and that of the Irish one, while running around in a wide eyed, big haired panic was summed up perfectly by my mobile phone shrieking out ‘The Exorcist’ theme tune at five minute intervals. (The Irish one had set this theme as a joke earlier in the year, thinking it would be funny to have as an alarm, and as a ringtone for err, well, for someone scary. Ahem. I have no idea who he could have possibly meant? I’m not due back at work for months so what gives? He is so out of order! My boss isn’t scary!  But anyway! Cough cough cough whistle whistle.) So as it turns out, given my nerves and my uncensored, stomach clenching fear of flying, the theme tune was extremely poignant. (I literally had to force myself not to start running in slow motion while looking back over my shoulder, with a terrorised look on my face, just for kicks. Ok, I did do it, but no one saw me. And only for a moment!)

So! Disaster averted! We woke up late. But ahaaaaa screw you sods law! Because we still managed to be ready and out of the house on time with minimal drama! (I did catch my ear with my GHD’s, so now have a nice welt slowly growing out of the side of my shell like, but that’s another story. I only screamed once. See??? Minimal drama. )

Unfortunately though, cockiness goes against me. As the next potential crisis was hiding in the shape of sodden tights (Addison’s not mine. And yes even though he is male I do put him in tights. It keeps his legs warm. And nobody will know. Well, nobody other than you. BUT again, it is all material for his 21st birthday, so I am unable to promise that this secret will be kept) and a wet patch growing on his beeeehind.

Basically as the doorbell buzzed and awoke each dormant corner of the house, my boy, mid wee, got the fright of his life. Couple that with the general confusion of being fully dressed at 4 am and, ladies and gentlemen, you have yourself a squirter. 

‘What Irish one? For the love of god! The Taxi is here! Help me with these cases!’ (She says applying powder in the mirror, in an attempt to look less dead zombie more mother goddess. (Yes I know it will take more than a sweep of blush. Bastards.)
‘Has Addison sat in something wet?’
‘What?’ (At this point I pause mid dab, a bead of sweat forming on my top lip.)
‘He’s a wet bum.’ (Irish for; he HAS a wet bum.)
‘For the love of all things holy!!!’ (Drops make up brush in the loo and runs to grab Woo) ‘Give him here!’

NOW cue the Benny hill theme tune.

And that was just getting out of the house! Do I need to tell you what happened next?

Between Eccles and Spain, a lot happened (that’s what!) The following is not for the faint hearted.

  • I tripped up in to a queue full of yawning and moaning, tired and grumpy passengers, accidentally grabbing a hairy and tall mans arse to stabilise myself. (I am still cringing.) The worst moment? He winked and said he didn’t mind. He winked! (I vomited in my mouth a little.)
  • Our bags thankfully were under weight. (Even my suitcase shoves its skinniness in my face!) We realised on arrival we have forgotten ALL THE FORMULA! (I say we, but it’s not like I will EVER accept blame for this!) AND I only brought one extra pair of shoes! Can you believe it? I left room for the bloody formula. What is it with these airlines? 20kg is not enough! I have needs too you know! Anyway no drama. We picked some up in the supermarket immediately. Same brand, everything. (Its not too hot or too cold either! Wink wink smile smile.)
  • We finally pushed through the sea of bums and backs and legs and heads to arrive at our seats, fanny around with belts and bags and whistles and wipes, finally get settled and ready for take off, and there it is. Poo face. We hadn’t even taken off yet and there he was proudly squeezing one out for mammy. (I can not type my reaction to this, quite frankly, personal attack on my well being, in here. It was far too upsetting for words. But I will say this. He knew what he was doing. As I passed him on to his daddy’s knee, I am sure he mouthed the words ‘America’s next top model’ at me. I knew flicking from the Disney channel would come back to bite me in the arse one day.)
  • Jam sandwiches are a bad idea for a 9 month old when you are not in the comfort of your own home. (The smeared, sticky gentleman on my right hand side promised he didn’t mind. But then, if that were true? Where did he go after his chat with Stewart the steward? Didn’t mind my arse. Have a habit of vanishing in to thin air do you mate??)
  • Changing a nappy at an altitude of 36000ft in a toilet I can only assume has been designed for people who don’t have elbows, was my idea of hell on earth. (All of a sudden I was all elbows; Woo was all feet, and all swively hips. Could I whip the nappy off and get a new one on in ten seconds flat,  like I do at home? Could I bollocks! Couple that with a few good jolts of turbulence and I began to panic. I very nearly left the comfort of that midge sized bog, with a shitty bum of my own, carrying a shocked baby and screaming WE ARE ALL GONNNA DIIIIEEEE!! Thankfully, though,  I managed to hold it together long enough (secret swig of vodka) to get back to my seat quietly and composed. (Ignoring the shakes, and my knees giving way, in front of the drinks trolley (another sneaky swig.)
  • 2 hours of screaming. (Addison.)
  • 2 hours of panic and apologising. (Me)
  • 2 hours of sighing heavily, (Irish one) and assuring me we weren’t going to A) crash in to another plane on decent, B) fall from the sky due to double engine failure, or C) die in a horrific mountain meets air random and unexplained plummet. (I really need to quit watching Air Crash Investigation.)

On the plus side, when I had finally stopped shaking, and had finally finished kissing the ground and thanking my lucky stars for our safe arrival at Malaga Aeropuerto, the first thing I spotted, with my beady un-caffeinated and frazzled eye, was An EL Starbuckso!!!

A Christmas miracle!

Cue my first Spanish Latte de vanilla con leche desnatada porfavor.

OK, half a Christmas miracle.

The other half being, Addison slept through until 8.30 this morning!!!!! (A full nueve horas!)

So ignoring the fact I kept waking up in a cold sweat, thinking the bed was shaking (turn that bloody Excorsist theme tune off Irish one! It’s not funny, it never was!!) or that my head was about to start spinning off my shoulders in a sickly green rage (Just a normal day in the woo household then) I very nearly managed a full 40 winks.

‘And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof.
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.’

Until he saw Mammy woo, suspended in air,
Green in the face, with very big hair,
You may be special, but don’t eat my pies!!
He fled through the chimney and took to the skies!!

Merry Christmas to one and all!

And to all of the nutbags who keep me sane (you!!) I hope you have all had a lovely christmas day. I love you all x


4 Comments on “The power of christ(mas) compels you, Santa!

  1. PMSL. How can you induce laughter and sympathy from me in one sentence?! I do indeed hear the Benny Hill themetune in my head when I read most of your posts. Or your tweets. That or Hot Diggety Dog (or whatever it is!) I think you’re very brave cos I’m not even going to attempt flying with JW until he’s old enough to use the loo by himself! And then he can sit in economy with his daddy while I fly first class dah-ling. Oh, wait a minute, I appear to have drifted off into fantasy land there for a second. But there’s no way you’d catch my changing a nappy in one of those tiny loos. (how on earth does anyone manage to join the mile high club btw? I couldn’t imagine anywhere less cramped!) Anyhoo my mind is clearly wandering. Fab post xx

  2. This had me laughing and cringing at the same time. I’m terrified of flying but was even more terrified of having to change my little hummingbird’s diaper on the plane last month but luckily her bowels cooperated. Glad you survived. 😉 Happy Holidays!

  3. You are a literary & comedic genius. I fully believe that your life is lived at helter-skelter pace, no wonder the exorcist style head-spinning!

    Glad you’re there safely! Hope it’s not too cold or too hot! 😉

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