Hey! Hi there. Thanks for stopping by.
So, those of you who’ve been with us on our journey for a while (thanks guys, you’re wonderful!) may assume I’m being a bit lazy by re-posting something I wrote and shared this time last year.
But I’m not being lazy…honest!
Well, OK then, maybe I am, but only a little bit.
Anyway, this post had THE most views in just one day – EVER! – 185 in fact! Plus, it’s one of my favourites, so I wanted to share it again with you.
But I also wanted to revisit it and add just a smidgen of other stuff to it. So, even if you’ve read it before, feel free to take another look.
Here’s a bit of a preamble type thing…
Well, if you haven’t noticed already, Christmas is looming.
Hannah’s daddy and I have already eaten a packet of mince pies – IN OCTOBER!. Not all at once, I hasten to add…and now we’ve moved onto the hard stuff – the Christmas cake!
TBH, I’ll actually be glad when Christmas is all over. Especially this year.
For those of you who’re new here – Hi! *waves enthusiastically* – we’ve had an extremely rubbish and stressful time this year. I won’t share much about it on here, but within the space of 13 weeks my step-dad, Harry, died (he cared for me from being a child) and then I lost my mum. I miss them both more than I ever imagined I could do…and the love and faith that they had for Hannah just blew me away.
They prayed for her every single day. They believed in her, exactly like I do. Harry’s eyes lit up when he saw her. He adored her and I have a huge lump in my throat right now just reflecting on his overwhelming adoration for his little girl…his only granddaughter…she was his everything and I’m pretty sure my mum felt the same way too.
So, whilst I’m not planning to get all morose and Bah Humbug-gy, I’ve decided that Christmas can go and take a hike for me this year.
I’m not even remotely interested in celebrating.
Nor shall I be made to feel like I ought to do.
But my feelings about the festive season aren’t solely because of what’s happened this year. Actually, since Hannah’s birth and as the years go by, I’m becoming increasingly more appalled at the sheer gluttony and excessiveness that the day can bring in some households: the ridiculous amount of food and alcohol that’s gobbled up in just one day, the debt that’s accrued and the credit cards that’re stretched to their limits on the unwanted presents that may end up stuffed in a cupboard or on land fill and why, oh, why, does anyone need to spend a fortune on decorating their house and buying new furniture and a bigger TV just for Christmas day?.
Oh, and don’t get me started on trying to safely navigate Hannah and her wheelchair around a melee of hysterical shoppers all frantically grabbing their Christmas food…well, after all, the supermarket WILL be closed FOR A WHOLE DAY on Christmas Day. How are we all going to manage for ONE. WHOLE. DAY???
It seems that the emphasis on what Christmas is actually about is getting a little bit lost in all this excessive consumerism.
And, for me, that’s a bit sad.
It appears nowadays, that if you stray from an atypical lifestyle and opt for more simplicity or shun conformism, you’re open to being labelled as awkward or weird or anarchic.
We’re not though. We just have our own minds about things and aren’t scared to do what we actually want to do. We don’t feel the need to fit in.
Oh blimey, I really think I need to get off my soap box…I’m even irritating myself writing this!
It’s a good job I’m not on a stage somewhere…people would be throwing over-ripe tomatoes at me and shouting “get off…you’re RUBBISH!”
I’ve gone all didactic and somber. Sorry about that.
But whilst Hannah is completely oblivious to the whole concept of Christmas – and that’s not such a massively catastrophic thing for me (there’s far worse things in our life – I do possess a great deal of perspective!), even though it’d be nice for her to have an understanding of how magical it could be – I’ll try my hardest to make the festive season as special and as fun as I can for her.
So, let’s crack on shall we?…here’s the revisited letter I wrote to Father Christmas last year…of all the things I’d like him to bring us…enjoy!
(oh, btw, Happy Christmas for December 25th – Regardless of how I feel about it, I truly hope you all have an extremely happy, healthy day)
The United Kingdom
I hope you’re ok.
It’s been quite a while since I last wrote to you hasn’t it?
Sorry about that. I’ve been a bit busy.
(Well actually, I did write to you last year, but let’s forget about that for the sake of this post. Let’s just keep schtum about that shall we, eh? *wink*)
I’m sorry I was REALLY cross at you all those years ago for leaving me a Tiny Tears Doll when what I ACTUALLY (rather explicitly!) asked for was a Cindy Doll. You must have been a bit preoccupied that year.
I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that I’ve forgiven you…although it took a while.
Well, it’s ‘all go’ around here…the stores are frantically packing their Christmas produce up to the rafters in anticipation of the frenzy of shoppers in December. The festive lights will be getting switched on by Z list ‘celebrities’ in towns near and far. Everyone’s planning what useless (and cheapest) token present they’re going to buy Great Auntie Doris (“not MORE talcum powder, for heaven’s sake! – that’ll set her asthma off when she’s stuffing her face with turkey and we’re NOT driving her to A&E again this year, it’s someone else’s turn, OK!?! Oh, and make sure this year that the dog doesn’t jump up on her and ladder her tights or we’ll never hear the last of it”) AND, to top it all off, the crème de la crème of totally exciting things to EVER happen over Christmas is that the TV ad’s are YET AGAIN promising you a brand new half price sofa delivered right to your door before the 25th.
HOW UTTERLY SPLENDID!
(I’m being ironic there, btw)
I bet Santa, that if you reviewed all the letters I’ve sent to you over the years, you’d be able to track what was happening in my life at the time…
- The year of the Tiny Tears debacle – Now THAT really was THE end of the world!
- The year of the chopper bike – tomboy phase
- The year of wanting my nose pierced – oh, the beloved punk years. My dad swiftly intercepted my letter to you that year…grrr!
- The year of the make-up and hair crimpers and fancy perfume –forget being a tomboy, I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!!!!!
- The year of the engagement ring – swapped the boyfriend (quite a few times *cough*). This one’s a keeper.
- The year of the wedding – ahhh, roses around the door time
- The year of the baby…ah, now, hang on. That’s where it all went a bit pear shaped….
You see Santa, for years, the baby never came…so I gave up and just got on with my life.
But then she arrived!
And then many of my dreams fell apart a little.
But, whilst I’ve not contacted you for a while, I’ve been a really good girl this year – well, erm, OK, reasonably good (ish), I thought I’d write to you a little earlier than usual and just give you and your team up at the North Pole a bit of a ‘heads up’ about what I’d really like this Christmas.
So Santa, here’s my wish list for this year:
- I want this bloody cruel syndrome to go away. Go RIGHT away and never, EVER come back (sorry for swearing Santa, but I just can’t help myself)
- I want Hannah to be able to talk and tell me how her day has been or what’s bothering her or what she enjoyed doing with her friends at school or what she’d like you to bring her for Christmas.
- I want her to stop biting/self-harming/throwing herself backwards when I’m carrying her and all the other dangerous stuff
- I want her to pick a flower (or a weed, I’m really not fussy) and say “this is for you, mummy” *melt*
- I want people to stop assuming that they have even the slightest inkling of what our life is REALLY like and how we feel
- I want her to be able to read so that we can sit together, snuggled on the sofa, surrounded by books galore and jump into magical, enchanting worlds together
- I want to be able to walk with her so that we can go exploring in rock pools and forests
- I want her to be able to creep into my bed on Christmas morning and whisper “he’s been!” (That’s you Santa, not the milkman, obviously!) and then watch her excitedly open her presents – the presents that SHE decided that she wanted
- I want to be able to take her to the cinema or for afternoon tea in some swanky tea house
- I want her to be able to climb trees or watch her running around giddily kicking fallen leaves or splashing around in puddles until she’s breathless and grinning like a Cheshire cat and her cheeks are rosy red
- I want to be able to make her hair pretty with clips or bows and watch her admiring herself in the mirror.
- I want to groan and roll my eyes for the zillionth time because she wants to watch Frozen on DVD…or anything else, for that matter,
- I want to observe her busily rummaging around her dressing up box contemplating who she wants to be – whether it be a princess, a nurse, a Jedi Knight or a Lucha Libre (it’s OK, we’re not gender specific in our house) – she could be whoever she wants to be.
- I want to scratch my head, utterly dismayed, whilst trawling the internet in a desperate quest for the answers to her homework questions
- I want to schlep around the supermarket in my pyjamas at some ungodly hour, grumbling and swearing profusely under my breath, because she’s only just informed me that her cookery class is tomorrow and she needs some ridiculously obscure ingredients that you can probably only get online from some faraway exotic country
- I want to make snow angels with her
- I want her to be able to concentrate on task, to listen and to know how to keep herself safe
- I want her never to feel she has to rely on anyone for anything – I want her to grow into a strong, autonomous woman
- I want to be sat in the audience of the School Nativity with all the other parents and proudly (and undoubtedly teary) watch in awe at my child, front of stage, dressed as an Angel, confidently reciting her script
- I want her to look me up and down, her face aghast and tell me in a stern voice “Mummy, you are NOT going out with ME looking like THAT…go upstairs immediately and get changed”
- I want my loved ones back and I want to watch their faces light up when Hannah arrives at their house.
- I want their daily prayers for Hannah to be answered.
- I want to stop pondering about what the future could hold for her without me being around to protect her
- I want my heart to JUST. STOP. ACHING.
I want ALL that and SO much more Santa. But I suppose It’s probably a bit too much of a big ask for you, isn’t it?
You can never make any of that happen…and you certainly can’t buy it in the shops either.
No money in the world could ever buy what I want.
So, given that I don’t need a half price sofa, all I REALLY want for Christmas is for my kid to be as happy and healthy as she can be…. Yes, I’m more than OK with that.
For now, at least.
Oh, but if you must insist on leaving me something, then could you just slip the winning numbers for the lottery in my Christmas stocking or maybe a small house in Cornwall overlooking the sea…Oooh, and perhaps a pair of Louboutins? – I know I don’t go out much, but at least I’d look pretty hot doing the washing up.
Well, from the ankles down, at least!
Thanking you in anticipation.
This post is dedicated to Santa (of course, who else?) who has the ability to make little people’s dreams come true, but sadly, not mine.
To those people who won’t be able to celebrate Christmas the way they want to or how other people may just take for granted – whether that be through illness or disability, loneliness, homelessness or whatever