Almost like Christmas

 It's been a hectic, happy few days. 

My grandson visited for two, then my youngest daughter for three.

With my grandson, we planted cabbage and sweet pea seeds from the February Mud and Bloom box, played animal dominoes and the Postman Pat board game, and got fooled into watching Peppa Pig.

With my daughter, we went out to Shipley for a snowdrop walk, played more board games, vicariously shared the excitement of her going out for the evening, had a movie night in with La La Land, and I got to show off my new clothing purchases to someone who might be interested.

 In between, there was a lot of fun and laughter, both daughters went out for the evening, there was a family dinner, and a birthday tea.  It was almost like Christmas.

We're now into the lull before New Year, as next weekend sees another family birthday

Looking Forward - to Christmas

I said in my 'jottings' this week that I was starting, after this dreadful year, to look forward to things again. It's not that we're out of the whole coronavuris mess - more that I can see a light at the end of the tunnel and I'm eager to get reach it. Starting to, very cautiously,  plan ahead is lifting my spirits now, so I'm going to be sharing these things that I'm looking forward to. 

First up is Christmas.

I'm not usually much of a Christmas person. I'm not religious, and when I was growing up my family weren't, so it's a time of presents and parties. It's fun when you're small, then again when you have small people of your own - but with both daughters now grown up the excitement had gone. This year though is different.

Being allowed a lockdown window over Christmas has changed everything. After a year of hardly seeing each other, the whole family can be together again. We're fortunate in being a small family - and that none of us have other people we'd like to see. My Manchester-based daughter will be home for the whole period, and we'll be back and forth, visiting and being visited by my older daughter and family most days. Getting together after such a long time apart is more exciting than presents or over-eating.

For now there's planning to be done. Who will be where, and when? What shall we eat? What shall I wear? Can I persuade OH to put on a different Christmas jumper every day? Will there be beds, and chairs for everyone?

And shopping this year is really different. I'd normally buy quite a lot on line, but this year everything is being bought that way, and there are inevitable disappointments - items that were badly labelled and not suitable; spending days trying to decide what precisely to buy, then finding it suddenly out of stock; small businesses so busy that they're having to stop taking orders for a few days while they catch up and parcel things; and the new nightmare that is waiting for those parcels to arrive, because suddenly all deliveries are turning up earlier than expected! No doubt it will all come right in the end. I hope.

I still don't have decorations up! I know this is late by everyone else's standards but we normally have a real rooted tree, so don't decorate till a week or so before Christmas. Last year's tree, still in a pot, has dropped a lot of needles, so is relegated to the patio but with lights to make it look festive. The cable for lights at the front of the house got trapped in the garage door and cut in half, so I'm hoping OH and some tape can fix that. Meanwhile I'll start the 'big clean', making sure there are no unexpected cobwebs lurking in corners of the ceiling, waiting to be spotted once garlands are hung up, and maybe by next weekend the house will start to feel Christmassy.

Not the best Christmas

Well, Christmas is over, accompanied by a huge sigh of relief.
I never really look forward to Christmas and this year particularly was never going to be good. With my mother's death still leaving a raw wound, and a couple of bouts of illness hitting me in late November, I was immersed in gloom, unable to plan ahead, and leaving present-buying and putting up decorations till the last minute. Then a Twitter friend reminded me of a conversation we'd had back in September - that grief is at its worst after about three months, and for both of us, that was lining up with Christmas - and things started to slot into place. Sometimes understanding what is wrong is halfway to curing it.



There were changes this year. Once my parents came over every Christmas day but it recent years that wasn't possible due to my mum's mobility problems so we'd have a lazy morning and visit them during the afternoon. This year my dad came over to ours, and our day had to fit round him - the times he likes to eat, actually cooking full Christmas dinner, not watching anything violent or noisy (or those nude scenes from Love, Actually) on TV. It was an odd combination of sad and boring.


A happier change was passing on a family tradition to the next generation. When they were younger, our daughters had The Night Before Christmas read to them just before bedtime on Christmas Eve, but this year we all went to the eldest's to hear it read to my grandson. He fidgeted a bit, but hopefully will grow to love it.

There's so much pressure though to feel Christmas must be happy and fun-filled for every minute, and obviously in my circumstances it wasn't really possible. There were a lot of tensions and emotional moments, and I sometimes felt like all my small sadnesses were joining themselves up to make a huge overwhelming wave.


There have fortunately been good moments this Christmas. There's a massive amount of fun to be had just watching and playing with my grandson, but perhaps the best thing was having our youngest daughter home for the whole week, which was really special as since she left home in February we've only seen her for a couple of days here and there. Somehow she took me out of myself, changed my focus and I now feel like I've turned a corner, and the new year looks welcoming in a way I wouldn't have believed possible in the run up to Christmas.

This year the (rather pathetic) decorations will come down early - partly because I still don't really feel jolly enough to leave them up till Twelfth Night, but also because I'm impatient to get on with next year.

Life on hold

When your parents reach their late nineties, you fall into a feeling that they'll go on forever. That somehow the accidents and illnesses that befall other people's parents have totally overlooked yours.
Obviously it's not so, age catches up with us all, and a month or so ago we made the tough decision that my mum would actually be better off cared for in a residential home. In part, we'd been expecting this day to come, but we still weren't really prepared for it. We hoped though that some of the difficulties and worries of the past months might be behind us and a little stability return to our lives.

But no. My mum had hardly moved in to the care home before my dad fell ill, necessitating a week in hospital. Nothing really serious, apart from, as I've said before, EVERYTHING is serious when you're in your late nineties.
Now, Dad's back home, and, although living alone for the first time ever has definitely been a shock to him, after a shaky start he's settling into his new routine with lots of visits to see my mum, and possibly a day out each week at an old folks day centre (though the 'old folks' there are twenty years younger than him!)
What's slightly taken me aback though, is how I feel at sea. Before I've managed to cope with this sort of dashing about, here, there and everywhere. This time I didn't. At the end of a day, I was exhausted, more emotionally than physically I think.

The heat this last month has probably not helped. As temperatures hit the high twenties, day after day, week after week, I just gave up hope of doing anything. Apart from a curtailed visit to Timber Festival, we haven't gone out anywhere. I abandoned the gardening and housework. I couldn't find the energy to cook dinner. I cancelled evenings out at gigs, and a weekend at Curious Arts Festival. Life outside of looking after my parents ground to a halt.


Hopefully we've started to turn a corner. Care-home visiting is time consuming, but, although my mum doesn't always recognise us, my dad wants to visit her as much as possible. At least we're past the chaotic settling-in phase, so maybe now life will return, not back to normal, but to something a little more predictable.