My Very Own Father Christmas...

Santa1

Occasionally I think the choice to be a stay at home Mom was the stupidest decision I have ever made. When its chucking down with rain, Finley is crawling the walls and I am dying to be the woman I used to be, I ache to be a real person with and an ordinary nine to five life and a caring childminder. While I love my son to bits, I, like every other SAHM, yearn for adult conversation and the kind of creative challenges that don't include Lego or the Fimbles. I wander around the house and wonder what I am doing with my life, whether running my teeny tiny business is daft and whether I am providing my little boy with everything he needs by keeping him by my side 24 hrs a day.

But then there are days like this. Days when all is right with my world. When the house is sparkling, Finley is an angel and my favorite day of the year is only a nights sleep away. This morning I have baked mince pies, wrapped a thousand presents, and watched my favorite film of all time "Little women" (Oh, for a crinoline to hide my huge hips!).  Clove scented candles are twinkling on the fireplace, friends are coming for dinner and my very own Father Christmas is out buying treasures all for me (God forbid he should have to shop for anyone else: that is of course, my job!).

Yes, life at home can be hard. One year olds are disastrous conversationalists. But days like this are sent to remind us to make the most of seasonal celebrations, and while I for one think every day should include your own little rituals, personal pleasures and teeny celebrations, the TV schedules only reward us with treats like "Little Women" at Christmas time and Finley can only be allowed to play football in his reindeer antlers once or twice a year...