Well, Christmas has been and gone and I must say I’m rather
relieved it’s over. And if that makes me sound like some kind of Scrooge then I
really don’t care, I’ve had enough of the pressure to be jolly and if I have to
read one more Facebook update about how magical and ‘just simply wonderful’ it all
is, I think I may even throw up.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the main days – seeing Taters
playing with his little cousins and enjoying time with all his Grandparents,
that was lovely. He’s got some fab new toys and I’m always touched by the
number of friends and family who buy for him.
But it’s been hard. I don’t want to write all the gory
details out of respect for my husband and our privacy, but we got news on the 21st December
that, while not changing anything in the present, could leave us down the financial
shitter in the future. At a time when I’d love to be looking to move to a
slightly bigger house, we’ve even discussed living in a caravan should
everything go tits up!
After a day or two of
tearing our hair out and panicking, we did everything we could to put it aside
and try and make Christmas special for Taters, but once the main event of
Christmas was over and with nothing left to distract me, I found myself
struggling to pull myself out of the doldrums again.
Now I’m of the opinion that as there’s nothing I can do
about it, I’m going to try not to worry – it’s possible the worst may not
happen, although it feels like someone up there has it in for us so it really
might – and instead I’m going to put my energies into the things we can control
and hope for the best.
So essentially, there may be trouble ahead but it’s business
as usual.
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