Homemade Advent Calendar
The final blogvember piece herald the beginning of the end of the year. Bring on the parties, the glasses of fizz, the gin and tonics. New traditions I am forging like a tree from 1 December, and homemade advent calendar give me joy and I hope can bring back the pleasures of the season that are sometimes jettisoned for style over substance.
Merry Christmas Cake
Today we bought all the dried fruit and mixed peel and cinnamon sticks we need from the markets. We bought vermouth and brandy, bitters and more. All the base ingredients for mince tarts, fruit cake, puddings and delicious drinks. Here’s cheers to that! The next few weeks are a whirlwind. I am going to try to focus on the enjoyment of the little simple pleasures. The joy of champagne popping, the tinkling lights, the smiles of people I love. I will try to not get too hot and bothered. We will have cold lunch and pudding at 10 o’clock at night when it’s cool enough. I am looking forward particularly to trifle. I love trifle more than almost all the other christmasy treat combined. You’ll find me on Boxing Day morning with a spoon and my head inside the fridge.
Let’s deck the halls and make the yuletide gay. Now all I want to do is count down. Christmas in T – minus 25 days.
Tonight I am going to the same party I went to last year. It is the same party that Robert has been to every year except one, for the past twenty years. Tonight there will be a spring in my step at this party. Not only because I will see friends and have good conversations and perhaps a glass of bubbles in my hand while I chat. But also because this year, at this party, I will not be 40 weeks pregnant. Not being pregnant is what I am grateful for today.
Being pregnant is great. You get to make another person. From scratch. It’s exciting and nerve-wracking. But at the 40 week mark, it is all a bit much. It’s too much for you, it’s too much for your man, it’s too much for everyone. You completely lose your sense of humour. You are hot (especially last year during the heat wave that was Canberra summer.) Your feet hurt. Your back hurts. Frankly, every bit of you hurts. And you just want the baby to come. Now. Preferrably with minimal pain and fuss.
Last year, this party was on the 18th December. My brother’s birthday. My estimated due date was the 21st. I was convinced it couldn’t possibility take much longer. Surely the baby was cooked and ready. At the party, last year I remember people gasping when they saw me side on. I remember being assisted up tiny steps by well meaning guests. I remember the host practically carried me up their steep driveway at the end of the evening.
As it turned out, he wasn’t quite ready. Benedict was born at 40 weeks and 6 days, on the 27th December.
This year, I will not be wearing my ode to a Grecian urn dress – gorgeous empire line pale sage green. I’ll be wearing a bright red dress with my ‘congratulations on having a baby’ earrings. My other accessories will include a gorgeous nearly one year old child on my hip and my fabulous man by my side. This week, I remember how far I have come in one short year. Cheers and merry Christmas.