Inside Miss 13's room, dog and her girl were peacefully dozing.
Chunks of God-knows-what snaked across the floor like a layer of marine debris. Ally had spewed what appeared to be black bean stew on the carpet and on Miss 13's blanket.
This was not going to plan.
With 24 more days until Christmas, the year is rocketing to a close.
There are end-of-year activities at school, work parties, a summer school exam, and the children's metre-long wish lists to tackle.
Surviving a combined end-of-school-year/start-of-holiday season is an hour-by-hour proposition. It feels like running the airport security gauntlet when you've forgotten to bag your liquids while smuggling underwire and a metal kneecap.
Something's gotta give if I'm to reach December 25th with my liver and faculties intact. Here are nine things I'm neglecting in the spirit of Christmas:
· Kid taxi trips involving a high degree of difficulty: when the carpool falls through, I'm waving the white flag. Shuttle two kids from Papamoa to Otumoetai, then bring one to the Mount during peak traffic? Nah. My children have missed three sporting practices the past two days.
· Christmas cards: I used to send an end-of-year letter and photo greeting card to 75 people. This was in the US, where supplies and postage are cheap. If you want recent evidence our family is sane and healthy and the children have steered clear of juvenile detention, ask me. Or check Facebook.
· Decorating: Heading to the snow in Spokane to cut our own Christmas tree was fun. These days, it feels like another errand for the list. My Kiwi tree is stashed in a box and is pre-lit. I wait for the children to start asking before dragging it out. They assemble and decorate.
· Baking: I love Christmas cookies, but the last couple of warm days have eviscerated any desire to whip up something festive. It's too hot to bake.
· Cooking: I ditched the meal prep kit last month. The kids ate tinned spaghetti on toast for dinner last week, prompting Master 12 to ask, "Can you make this all the time?" I posted a photo online, horrifying my Italian friends.
· Presents: The idea of enforced obligation to waste money on something another adult doesn't want or need grows less attractive each year. Yes, the children and immediate family will get gifts; it's a crapshoot for everyone else. A new poll states nearly 70 per cent of Americans would forego holiday gift-giving if friends and family agreed. What might that percentage be here? 90?
· Malls: Does anyone want to enter a shopping mall in December after circling the car park 10 times, shuffling through crowds and queuing to buy items the kids will cherish for two weeks? Would you give them my number so I can send them to the shops with some cash and a list?
· Extras: I have a habit of taking on little volunteer jobs requiring about three times longer to complete than imagined. It's aspirational, but maybe I can cut it out the next 24 days. "No" is a complete sentence, says Oprah. She's smart. She's rich. Also, she has no children.
· Expectations: I'm taking a page from the Danes, ranked for years as global happiness champions. Supposedly, the secret to contentment is reduced expectations. A Dane interviewed for the Atlantic said, "Because our expectations are so extremely low at the beginning of the year, they tend to get met more easily."
I'm wrestling holidays into a truce with the finesse of a pig on roller skates. The breeze at my back - reduced expectations.
I don't predict things will go to plan, because the dog ate the plan. She'll bark before nestling into her child sandwich while I sponge up vomit.
Traffic tangles will become (even more) unmanageable, especially on Saturdays. The kids will not get everything on their wish lists. Not even close.
And on the 25th, I hope to report my expectations this Christmas have been met, thanks to a modest agenda and a fresh-from-the-store pavlova.
