When the boyfriend and I moved in together there was one thing preying on my mind. What was going to happen come Christmas? (Actually there were two things preying on my mind but the other one was to do with toilet habits so I won’t go into that one. Yet.)
You see in the past I’ve had boyfriends at Christmas but most of them have lived in different cities (the annoyance of getting with someone when you’re at university) so it was never really an issue, I would stay with my Mum and they would stay with their family and we’d meet up on Boxing Day or the day after or whatever.
And even last year when we were together and both living in the same city and I started to worry about it a bit, everything was sorted because Mum and I went to my sister’s house for Christmas and the boyfriend stayed home.
Christmas has been playing on my mind for a long while. Who would we go to? Should we have people here? (A notion quickly ruled out when I realised that my stress levels could in no way handle people over for my very first Christmas, making 6 cupcakes causes enough mess never mind a turkey.) Should we stay in the flat by ourselves? Should we go to one family one day and the other on Boxing Day? And if so which family would we go to on which day? The possibilities were endless and maths was never my strong point.
Coupled in to this mix is the fact that both the boyfriend and I are wusses when it comes to our mothers. Actually I’ll rephrase that. The boyfriend is a wuss when it comes to his mother, he just can’t say no to her! I am a little bit of a wuss but I also feel my situation is slightly different, my Mum is on her own whereas the boyfriend’s Mum has husband and daughter living with her and another daughter just down the road.
In the end we hit on the perfect compromise. We would open our presents to each other in the flat in the morning (very exciting and also strange, I’ve never had Christmas Day without my Mum before, who will tell me what to do?!), head over to my Mum’s mid-morning/early afternoon and spend some time with her and her friend, who’s staying with her over Christmas, and then head late-afternoon to the boyfriend’s family and stay there the night so the boyfriend can engage in some Christmas tipples.
Perfect. I really believe we were quite smug about the whole thing. We got time with just each other and would be spending time with both families on Christmas Day, everyone’s a winner.
We didn’t think about the Christmas Dinner factor.
Turns out that Mum plans to eat about 1pm and the boyfriend’s family won’t be eating until about 6pm.
This Christmas Day the boyfriend and I will be eating TWO Christmas dinners.
(I’ve been having repeats of the Vicar of Dibley running round in my head ever since)
Whenever I think about it I can actually feel my stomach filling up. I mean I can eat like the best of them and sometimes I wonder if the food is just falling out of the back of my head, rather than going to my stomach because I never seem to be full, but two Christmas dinners? Two?!
You see? No good can come out of compromising.
No good can come out of potentially offending two Celtic mothers.
Spare me and my stomach a thought on Christmas Day won’t you?