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Christmas was EXHAUSTING.
I come from a first-generation immigrant family. Christmas growing up was my parents and sister, maybe we go see some family friends.
Quiet. Peaceful. Admittedly somewhat dull.
This year? THIS YEAR? Hoo boy.
Obviously it's somewhat my own fault, what with how I got myself into a committed relationship with a partner who not only has a family but also has a husband and he has a family, so on Christmas Day we had V's older sister and her husband and kids over for morning tea, then her younger sister and her husband and kids and their parents for lunch, and then my parents for dinner... and then on Boxing Day we went to C's family lunch.
V's brother and one of C's brothers weren't even there. Still kinda overwhelming!
With the help of V's sisters and one of her nieces we've made substantial progress in getting the house ready for the baby. We're talking about plans for decorating the nursery. So far in terms of Unique and Special Decorations all that's really there is a little drawing of a Totoro on the wall inside his cupboard, it's super cute and I'll have to show a picture of it at some point.
I drew it. Helpfully, I got paint markers for C's family's secret Santa.
The baby is, of course, continuing to grow and be more active. Highlights in externally observable development:
- I startled him. I didn't mean to, but I was lying with my head in V's lap and I was being performatively outraged about something for her entertainment and I was maybe slightly loud. He had been asleep, but he jumped.
- Last night, he was very active, but it was getting close to V's bedtime and I've been encouraging him all along to make sure he doesn't keep her from sleeping. I sang him a lullaby... and it worked. He stopped kicking and moving around.
- Today I had to sing him two lullabies. He'd been quiet during the first one, but started kicking again as soon as I stopped singing. The second one he stayed quiet.
- Sometimes he presses and holds against V's tummy instead of just kicking. If you press back gently a couple of times, he stops. (It gets uncomfortable for her.) I'm not sure it's required to say, "High five, baby! High five!" when you do it, but I do.
I still suck at reading my reading page. In my defence the last couple of weeks have been rough for concussion stuff. Going through all the stuff for reorganising to clear baby room is a lot of memory things that are still very taxing for me, and then So Many People and so many screaming children at Christmas.
I'm not sure I could have managed Boxing Day, actually, but for the first couple of hours I wasn't out with the crowds, I was in one of the bedrooms playing Lego with one of the nephews.
Before that he gave me a tour of the house (or at least, of all his toys in all the rooms in which they were located). As he was showing me around, he noted: "You're very big! And fat. But really big!"
It is hilarious to me that he clearly wanted to be clear that he wasn't calling me fat... by specifically drawing the distinction between the fact that I am fat and the thing where I am very big, because he is three feet tall (and four years old).
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Went down to the farm for Christmas. It was good.
I got baby cuddles, got to feed baby L. a few times (fun when you do it rarely, feeding babies), helped young J. with his Lego, saw many wonderful people.
Got a lesson in the power of detachment, in a way.
The family sprung Grandma from the home to come for Christmas lunch. She can barely raise her voice above a whisper and she's physically weak and easily exhausted.
The thing is, it was obviously a little distressing for her daughter and grandchildren to try to help her so much, when she'd cared for them their whole lives. And it seemed distressing to her to need them to help her - when they asked her, she'd generally tell them she was fine, every time.
But when I asked, she could say she needed things more easily, it seemed.
I helped her with her lunch and fed her cheesecake when lifting utensils had become too hard. She fell asleep holding my hand.
And the thing is? For me, doing that didn't hurt. She was elderly when I met her for the first time a couple of years ago, and I never knew her well at all. I am not grieving for her decline. I might feel more strongly if I weren't three weeks out from a very painful funeral, but since I am in fact three weeks out from a painful funeral, someone else's grandma doesn't really leave a mark right now.
And I think that worked out for the best for everyone.
Grandma seemed to find it easier to accept help from someone who was just "warmly friendly" and not "visibly putting a brave face on pain" when interacting with her. Everyone else got to have a family Christmas lunch like it was normal. I had a lovely Christmas lunch, too, with people I love, but also got to feel useful and helpful which is very positive for me.
And I'm really impressed with myself that I ate my entire lunch one-handed (one hand was steadying Grandma's tray and staying in range so she could touch my hand if she needed my attention - the room was noisy) without making a mess or dropping anything.
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I just got a Starlink: Battle for Atlas starter kit. IT HAS A SPACESHIP YOU MOUNT IT ON AS THE CONTROLLER IT IS SO COOL
I'm taking it with me when we head out for Christmas. There's one child I know of expected at Christmas this year, a little boy I pretty much only see at Christmas who's remarkably unspoilt by the standards of only grandchildren, but who is still accustomed to being the only child around a number of adults, at least some of whom will be doting on him.
BRING YOUR TRACTORS, KID. I HAVE A SPACESHIP.
Fortunately, Nintendo make their things quite sturdy, because, yes, obviously I will let him play with it, I'm not a monster.
My mother noted that I should rave about his tractors if he lets me play with them. As of last time I saw him, playing with him and his tractors actually results in being quizzed on my ability to identify assorted pieces of farm machinery. Incorrect answers win a gaze of disappointed pity.
And then we had a debate, because I was right, actually, but some things have more than one name.
He wasn't really on board with that idea. More pity.
My mother said intelligent children can be a challenge. I don't really find them so; I scale down my vocabulary and treat them like tiny versions of me, and it works just fine.
My mother had sharply limited experience with small children before she had her own. (She was a teacher, but she taught high school.) I suppose I was probably a bit of a shock.
My memory of what it was like to be a small child is of everything being written larger, in bold and underlined, but there never seemed to be a limit to what I could learn so long as people started from a point that wasn't new to me.
So dealing with children, to me, is: be gentle, because their emotional armour has not developed; don't tease, because they might not get the joke; answer their questions and explain anything they seem puzzled by. Assume they will be broadly ignorant, but never, ever confuse that with stupidity.
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I need more icons. This requires me getting around to making them, though. And when I'm feeling creative I keep doing other things lately...
Things of the moment:
Today is my day for feeling abandoned.
I'm losing my will to engage with certain people, because there's "calling people on legitimately bad behaviour", and then there's "being a judgemental ass", and if you're over in category two, I just don't have the energy to do more than roll my eyes right now.
Especially since a lot of it could basically be summarised with: "Someone doing something you don't want to do is not a :violation of your rights:, even if they're doing it where you can see it/hear it/whatever."
Maybe you hate Fall Out Boy. If I drive past you in a car with the windows down and loud Fall Out Boy playing in my car at 2pm on a Tuesday, that will qualify as annoying. I am not infringing your rights.
Maybe you hate fireworks. This does not mean you magically acquire the right to object to Diwali fireworks displays. There are fireworks. Deal with it, princess. Shutting down a Diwali celebration because people don't like fireworks, don't like lights, or don't like Hindus would be an infringement of their rights.
(I'm ambivalent about the degree to which the general illegality of fireworks in Australia is wrong, because on the one hand, I believe people should be able to celebrate their religious festivals, but on the other hand, I believe bushfires are a bad thing, and fireworks are kind of high-risk to let loose in the community...)
Unless you can demonstrate a way in which other people's religious festivals actually cause you harm, then regardless of whether you dislike the festival or the religion, we return to deal with it, princess.
(And no, "it upsets me" doesn't count. To return to our Diwali example, the community should be notified that there will be fireworks, so that people who, say, are deeply upset by loud noises can take appropriate action to prepare/protect themselves. However, someone being around who is upset by loud noises doesn't get to have to the fireworks stopped entirely, because shut the hell up if you don't get this.)
Don't even get me started on the topic of hating on Christmas celebrations. Me, I kinda hate Christmas. It's depressing. It's like an event designed to make people with small families, dysfunctional families or no family at all feel as acutely miserable as possible. And it's two weeks after my birthday, which means that trying to celebrate my birthday gets aggravatingly tricky - everyone has "Christmas parties" and nobody cares about individuals' birthdays at this time of year.
I don't like Christmas.
However, trying to stop everyone else enjoying Christmas would make me a jerk.
So, accordingly, I shall conclude this rather dyspeptic post with the following sentiment:
I hope that all of you reading this experience joy this December, however you should spend it, and with whomever you spend it. I hope you are loved and feel it. I hope you are happy, at least some of the time.
If the other festivals don't float your personal boat (or even if they do), I encourage you to celebrate this Friday, the 10th. Have cake, or some other delicious treat, if you can, and have it in a spirit of joy and self-indulgence. If anyone questions you, dismiss their questioning outright, because it will be my birthday, and I will readily proclaim that everyone should feel entitled to some sort of treat on my birthday.
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Certain things really depend on context sometimes. For example, this week I sent a present to a fourteen-year-old girl I've only met once.
But she's my cousin, so that's okay and not creepy. She's interested in photography, and has a real talent for it. When we spent some time together in Scotland she tried out my Good Camera. I can't provide her with a high-grade camera to play with more, but I can - and did - send her a good book about photography so she can learn more of the principles behind it.
According to her grandmother, she was very pleased with it. This pleases me. (Her grandmother gave it to her for me, because I didn't have Cousin's address, whereas I had my great-aunt's address and know she sees her regularly.)
(It's more-or-less coincidence that it arrived on Christmas Eve, based on when I got around to ordering it, but hey, Cousin can have an extra, surprise Christmas present.)
I hope everyone has a good day today. If you celebrate Christmas, I hope your celebrations are joyful and if you don't, have a good day anyway.
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