Xmas Story

 

 

 

 

 

 

Xmas Story 1st

A spiffing Xmas catalogue arrived, par avion, yesterday. It has red and gold glittery xmas-ee things inside. I'm overcome with the need to own a lot of these glittery-umptious items. They're all so luscious and NEW. Not like all the things we make at home which are mostly recycled and bio-degradable. As in made out of natural fibres - not plastic. For some reason, right now, today, I want plastic.

I desperately want the 'Santa Off-Roader'. Imagine - Santa in an open top jeep, piled high with gifts, moving side to side, singing Santa Claus is coming to town. Cool.

"MUM," I yell, "Can I have the Santa Off-Roader, on page 20. It's only $49.99."

No response. (She's doing that a lot lately). I'll try again tomorrow... LMx

 

                                                              Xmas Story 2nd

This morning at breakfast (of squashed bananas and runny honey on toast). I yelled (only because Mum is honestly going deaf), "MUM what about the red and black and gold feather xmas wreath, on page 12 of the catalogue? It's truly fab."

"We always make our own wreath out of pine and wild plum branches," says Mum. (At least she spoke) "But Mum," I say, "it's always shrivelly and dry by Christmas Day."

"It smells nice," she says softly, slurping her coffee looking out the kitchen window into the garden - like her body was in the room but SHE wasn't. "But Mum it's so feathery and lovely. It's only $49.99."

"Fifty doll-erohs too much," she sighs still staring out the window. "What about the glow in the dark reindeer and Santa snow dome?" I say. "It's only $29.99."

"Oh sweet girl, what about making your very own Lily Max Xmas Angel." So I did. It's on the tree up above. click here to go to my Xmas Angel download.


                                                               Xmas Story 3rd

But by the morning of the third of December (which is a Thursday all over the world), my mind was bugging me again like a magpie, about all those shiny new things in the Xmas Catalogue. "Pleeeeez can we buy some of the lovely baubly baubles in this magazine Mum?" I beg (in my best whiny begging voice). "They're really sparkly and bright and new," says Angelica.

"We can make sparkly and bright," says Mum.

Silent moan from Angelica and I. "MUM our arms are too entirely sore from our cartwheeling display last night to be able to make any sparkly decorations," we say like twins. "We probably cartwheeled over a hundred times each."

Mum gives us her silent treatment for what seems like an hour. Then she upturns a shopping bag on the kitchen table. Out pours: shimmery scraps of spotty gold organza, tubes of red blue green and silver glitter, stickers of miniature angels with trumpets, silver pipe cleaners, metallic card, bronze love beads and red pom poms. And before we can remember we didn't want to make anything, we are squealing and grabbing and making things!

 

                                                               Xmas Story 4th

Angelica and I wrote, proper-in-the-post-letters to Santa at the beginning of November. My list was quite long. But I was very polite. And I made him a card. Angelica's list was short; because she didn't know how to spell words like 'Sylvanian Family Doll's House' (me and her both). She made him a reindeer shaped cookie, with a ribbon through a tiny hole on the top.

It's now 4th December - four days into the Christmas countdown. We've been waiting and waiting for a reply from Santa. Then blow me down he sends me an email! Hi Lily Max, great to hear from you. I get a lot of letters from children your age. I've already left my home in the North pole to start delivering presents. But be sure to come back to my website every now and then and see what's happening.

(I thought the last part was a little weird. How could Santa update his website, if he was zooming around the world delivering presents to all the good children - like ME.) The web address had 'ca' on the end. Is Santa Claus Canadian? I think Santa's Russian? Granny Moss said she saw Santa's house, when she went to Russia. Santa was sitting on the porch in red trousers knitting socks.

I don't think you've met my Granny Moss yet. She comes to stay every Christmas. She says Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without eggnog. So I've been googling: 'eggnog maker' to see if I can get her one, because she always makes a huge mess in the kitchen when she's egg-nogging. I'll let you know what I find tomorrow. I might check my Xmas catalogue! LM x

 

                                                               Xmas Story 5th

I was lying in bed last night worrying. Santa didn't even hint in his email, if he was delivering the presents I had so politely asked for (5 pleases & 4 thank yous in my letter).

In fact I have a lot of unanswered questions spinning around in my head about Santa.

Like:    What country is he come from?

            How does he manage to be in lots of different shopping malls all at the same time?

            How come you can always see a hoop of white elastic around his ears?

            Why is he so fat - are those presents up his jacket?

            Does he have a summer uniform for all the hot countries he has to visit?

            Does he travel at the speed of light to make all those deliveries around the world on one night?

            Finally. Is he really for-real?

Hortense Murgatroyd (school bully) has been walking around bragging, 'if you don't believe you don't receive'. Sounds a bit, kind of, bad, but  I'm sticking with it. Mum and Dad keep reminding me that the joy of Christmas is in the giving. First on my giving list is: Granny Moss - one egg beater. I'll tell you why tomorrow. LM x                                 ps. 20 sleeps to go!

 

 Xmas Story 6th

I'm getting Granny Moss an eggbeater because (1) eggnog makers don't exist and (2) she hates our eggbeater, (which has a broken handle)  & (3) Granny Moss adores Eggnog. You see there's a humungous amount of beating to be done to make Eggnog (which is a milkshake type drink with eggs in it drunk at Christmas time).

Firstly you have to separate the egg yolks (yellow bit) from the whites (clear bit). Then beat the yolks together with sugar. (It's actually best to have an electric beater because your arms get really sore with all the beating - but my Mum doesn't own one). After you've beaten the egg yolks and sugar. You have to beat the cream, (except you don't say beat you say whip when thickening cream). Finally you have to beat the egg whites, from clear whites into snowy peak whites. (You're arms are getting really sore by now!). Finally you mixed all the beaten things together and chill in the fridge.

Angelica, Rocco and I are always allowed an egg-cup-full of Eggnog before bed on Xmas eve. It s very rich and creamy and slips down your throat like a extra-slimy-thick-shake. After we've had our Eggnog, Granny Moss adds half a cup of this brown liquid which is forbidden for children. She calls it adult-i-fying it. I think she means adulterating-it. Then she says off to bed kiddly-winks I need to stuff your stockings. 19 days to go and counting!

 

                                                              Xmas Story 7th

All this waiting for Xmas is taking up a lot of my brain power. At school today I just couldn't concentrate - well me and all the 21 other children in my class trying to finish their reading comprehension sheets. Boring with a capital B. All I want to do at school is write my To do lists. Because I have a zillion to-dos, to do.

Like, To Do: write my gift-giving list. So far I have: Granny Moss - one egg beater (as you know). After the names of Mum, Dad, Angelica and Rocco - I currently have large blanks.

And To Do: Santa Claus research. I haven't got too far on country of origin. But Mum says, behind every high-achieving man there's a very organized woman. In other words he is REAL. Phew! I really want that electric keyboard I asked him for.

And To Do: Make decorations (I've made gazillions of Lily Max Angels) you can too just follow this link to the downloads. Because Dad's cutting our Xmas Tree after school tomorrow! Mum says it will be my job to make sure there's always water in the tree bucket. So the tree doesn't shrivel up and die before Xmas day (18 sleeps). That's a rather huge piece of responsibility to hold don't you think, especially with all my to-dos, to do. LM

 

                                                             Xmas Story 8th

During the Xmas tree expedition we find a perfectly branchy-on-all-sides Xmas tree for our living room. Then I spot the most perfectly miniature Xmas tree for our bedroom. "Dad chop this one too please," I ask.

"One's enough," he grumbles (he's in a bit of a grumpy mood because a house he was selling for ages fell through. Even after he had taken the buyers for heaps of rides to the for-sale-house in his car (which he had made extra spiffing with applepie car deodorizer).

"Oh go on Dad, me and Angelica want a tree in our room."

"Santa Claus won't know where to leave the presents," argues Dad.

I imagine for a moment waking up in our bedroom on Xmas morning the floor a sea of pretty-fully wrapped presents with bows.

Then Rocco calls out, "My twee my twee," he's standing beside another pine seedling that just reaches his nose.

"Three trees?" says Dad scratching his head. "The more the merrier I suppose," and starts chopping.

Greed doesn't always pay though and later that night disaster strikes...

 

                                                             Xmas Story 9th

All is quiet in the middle of the night when I get up to go to the loo. Our Xmas tree lights are still flickering, casting a rainbow of colours on our bedroom wall - beautiful. However there is not much room between Angelica's bed and mine, and on the way back from the bathroom I tangle my biggest toe in the cord of the lights.

Not only do the lights go out - pronto. But the tree falls over - whammo! And the water jar I carefully placed the tree in (with stones for support) while Mum was telling me it was a privilege to have a Christmas tree in our bedroom and there better not be any water on the carpet, SPILLS - big time and there is a big puddle of wet on the carpet.

Next Angelica wakes up and turns on her fairy lamp and says, "I'm telling." And I say, "no you're not," and I grab my fleecy bed blanket to mop up the lake. By this stage Rocco walks into our room and says, "morning YeeYeeMap morning Ang-ill." And I say, "no it's not morning it's still night. But get into my bed quick-smart before Mum wakes up and goes do-lally." There is a warm smell of wool but at least I didn't electrocute myself, even I know water and electricity don't mix. I decide I'm going to put the Xmas tree into a tub of sand at day break. Night LM

 

                                                             Xmas Story 10th

News Flash - Johnathon Murhpy came up to me, during Mum's After-school-Craft Fiesta class, and asked me if I'll be his date at the end of year school dance. Actually he got his words muddled up and asked me if I'll be his crush, then went totally red and dropped a blob of glue from the hot glue gun he was holding onto his big toe and burnt it. Ouch.

I said, ok and can I borrow the glue-gun now. Because I was ready to start gluing my feathers on to my twisty willow Xmas wreath. I was using feathers from my feather collection. Only my feather collection is mainly sea bird feathers from our annual beach holiday, which are mostly brown (my worst favourite colour). So I painted them red and black first. The paint caused the feathers to look shiny and stiff not like feathers anymore, so I glued on tinsel to see if that would help but it made my wreath look like something Hortense would make and be really proud of.

Luckily Angelica's wreath with Polly Pockets painted red swimming like dolphins around the edge looks uber cool and can go on our front door. I hope I have a better brainwave tonight about what to wear to the dance. The theme is of course -  'Christmas - the Season to be Jolly'. Any ideas?

15 sleeps exactly to go....LM

 

                                                               Xmas Story 11th

Eureka! Or whatever you say. Last night, as my weary head sunk into my feathery pillow, I asked myself - Lily Max what on earth (not Mars) are you going to wear to the school dance? And when I woke up this morning, Friday 11th December I had the answer.

I'm going to wear Mum's red satin skirt, hitched up like a dress, Dad's red fluffy Santa hat that he wore to his work do last week and my black shiny rocka-girl gumboots - orsom.

Johnathon will of course be wearing an outfit ordered by his Mum from an expensive online shop. She is a completely bossy mother. I'm surprised Johnathon still lets her get away with all her bossiness. He got heatstroke in the Polar Bear outfit she made him wear to our Winter Wonderland Ball. Oh well, I kind of hope she buys him a black tuxedo for this ball. We'd make a dashing pair. Dashing through the snow on a one horse open sleigh all the fields we go laughing all the way ha ha ha ha. I love Xmas.

Have you made a Lily Max Angel yet? If not click here!

 

 

                                                              Xmas Story 12th

I'm happy to report that all our three Xmas trees are alive and doing well. It's summer in New Zealand where I live, so those trees do get thirsty. All the containers are now water tight and I've had no more spillages (ok just an incy wincy one).

I hope Santa can see (or feel) all the hard work I've done towards giving him the best possible carpet area to lay his presents down on Xmas eve - only 12 sleeps to go. Excitement meter - off the Richter-scaler.

After the dance (which I don't want to talk about) Violet Hughes gave out Christmas cards and little stockings full of wrapped Santa chocolates with strings attached. I ate all mine straight away - I just couldn't help myself. But I re-wrapped the wrappings over a these yukko boiled sweets that I'd been testing and hung them on our bedroom tree when I got home. It's so nice lying in bed at night gazing at the pretty decorations and sparkly tree lights and WAITING ever so patiently for Xmas.

 

                                                               Xmas Story 13th

To do: Gift-Giving list (still not finished)

Unfortunately my piggy bank is empty after I bought an advent calendar (they only had Hannah Montana ones left at a reduced price). Someone keeps sneaking ahead of the actual date and taking the chocolate out from behind the windows then shutting the window again so it looks like nothing has happened.

And before you jump to conclusions it's not me this time. I don't think it's Rocco because he couldn't be so tidy. So it must be Angelica only she is completely denying it. I shall be doing some super-sleuth detective work this week to try and catch the culprit (and get more chocolate myself).

Mum says I can clean the windows before Granny Moss arrives (on the 20th), to earn pocket money. But cleaning windows is one of those jobs that makes my arms really sore and my head sore-urr. It would be easier to sell fimo rings in the playground. So I'm going to make 12 tonight. 12 rings @ $1.20 each that's $14.40. Cha ching! "Turn the oven on to 120 and get out the fimo,"  I yell to Angelica.

 

                                                               Xmas Story 14th

Ok - some of you out there might be wondering why I don't want to talk about the Christmas School Ball a few nights back.

Thing is, I've officially decided to never attend another school ball as long as I live. End of.

I can still feel the burn. (And you guys don't even know the story of the Winter Wonderland Ball that took place earlier this year). I wore an equally stunning self-designed ensemble (fashion speak for outfit) to that ball, and suffered similar self-shame. Roll-on summer hols. And Christmas.

 

                                                                Xmas Story 15th

Ok confession time. Johnathon and I were waltzing. Yes waltzing. The Vienna Waltz in fact. When Johnathon stood on the hem of my dress (ok it was dragging on the floor quite a bit) but you don't have to be a rocket scientist to guess what happened next. It slipped - not up - but DOWN. Even though I had sewn thick elastic around the top to hold it up. Now this slip-down would have been really bad except for at the very same moment of my strapless dress dropping southwards, the lights went out in the hall. Hallelujah and thank you goddess of blackouts.

So in the 30 seconds of darkness provided by the blackout I yanked my dress back up and flicked back my long blond, curly hair and pretended like nothing had happened.

Johnathon didn't even realize he'd trodden on my dress and thought my wardrobe malfunction was due to the huge corsage, of an orchid, his mum made him give me. He wanted to give me a red rose out of his next door neighbour's garden. The pale lilac orchid corsage was cumbersome, with its stalk part wrapped in green plastic and attached by a large safety pin. A red rose would have matched my dress better too.

Oh well. If I lived in Hollywood I would have been using Hollywood sticky-tape, like all the celebs do to keep their flimsy dresses attached to their skin. At least my long hair knows when to acts like a curtain! 

10 sleeps to go...

                                                                Xmas Story 16th

 

On the 16th day of Christmas my true love gave to me - his avocado marmite and chip sandwich. The 'wich was nice, but it made me almost upchuck during our school triathlon. I tried to only do the running part of the triathlon but Mr Rowntree (headmaster) said an athletic girl like me could easily compete as an individual. So I did the whole tri, as in three disciplines. We literally ran it in back to front order - run bike swim. Why? I'm not exactly sure. But my stomach was really churning by the time I hit the water with my shoes on (I was too tired to take them off). Lots of people appeared to be almost drowning all around me, but when I realized my feet could touch the bottom I walk/swam the four lengths and actually finished 5th. Choice -except for the sicky avo-marmite burps and the face as bright as a peeled beetroot. I'll sleep well tonight.

9 sleeps to go (down to single digit numbers)...

 

                                                                 Xmas Story 17th

I feel like I'm in a wasteland of waiting for Xmas. How many other kids out there in cyber space feel the same way?**

We packed away our school desks yesterday, but we still had to go to school today. Go figure? Then for half the day we make Christmas decorations. Like I don't get enough practice doing crafts at home! Then for the other half of the day we have to clean up the art corner - freaky. Then when we get home Mum is completely ignoring us because all she can see are cobwebs and fly poo and dirty windows. Which she is in a hurry to clean before Granny Moss arrives. Plus she has 2 kilograms of dried fruit to soak for the xmas cake, and gardens to weed, floors to mop, and table cloths to iron.

 I say, hey what about going Xmas Shopping?

And Mum goes, heavens I've forgotten to order the ham and starts scrabbling through the phonebook.

So I say, Granny Moss won't notice the fly poo on the windows Mum. She's short and wears glasses.

And Mum says, Layla Fogwill's coming on Christmas day.

She won't mind about the poo either says Angelica. She's our gym coach, not the Queen.

Mum just tuts, climbs up her ladder again, and starts spraying and wiping.

Oh who really cares -only 8 sleeps to go...

 

                                                                 Xmas Story 18th

After our final school assembly, Mum says, write your lists and I'll take you Xmas shopping. Quickly I scribble:

My Gift List

Mum - hand cream & woolly scarf - currently knitting as fast as I can.

Dad - squishy ball to squeeze when stressed or frustrated.

Rocco - board book of animals (Rocco adores all noisy animals)

Angelica - cowgirl outfit, new gumboots (remind myself to glue feather spurs on).

Me - packet of candy canes to hang on our Xmas tree and suck at night after lights out while waiting patiently for Santa. 

Eek 7 sleeps to go. Joy-bells of the season. LM

 

                                                                 Xmas Story 19th 

Granny Moss arrives tomorrow so Mum is back to being stressed-out with needing to clean the house again. Even though she only finished cleaning the house one day ago. She has, however, upped the pocket money to clean windows to $6.00 an hour. As school is now closed for the year I have nothing to think about except myself and Xmas so I said, don't panic I'll help Mum. Knowing that after two hours I'll be able to afford the Go Away Abigail Diary I spotted whilst Xmas shopping, as a little present to myself. Choice and untold orsom-ness and 6 sleeps to go.

 

                                                                   Xmas Story 20th

So I finish the windows and stash my cash. Then tring-a-ling-a-ling the phone goes.

Hello Lily Max Maxwell Small speaking, how may I help you today, I purr.

Get Mum I've broken my legs squeaks the person on the other end of the phone

I think you've dialed the wrong number I say.

No you silly duffer it's me Granny Moss I've taken a tumble and I think I've broken my leg get mum hurry.

Why don't you call an ambulance?

Because I want mum.

My Mum?

Yes your mum, stop babbling and hand her over.

Just a mo she's up the ladder cleaning fly poo off the kitchen lights.

Mum! Granny Moss needs assistance this instance. She's taken a tumble.

No reply.

MUM Granny Moss is lying on the floor in complete agony with a dislocated and broken leg.

Mum (says my Mum to her Mum) have you called an ambulance?

Not yet it's probably just a sprain. Just thought I'd call because I may not arrive tomorrow as planned. I may have to fly if I can't drive. I call you later, she adds then hangs up the phone.

That was a speedy recovery I say. Plus we've got another day to clean and wipe. I thought mum would be happy but she just looked worried.

I'll call Mr Casseroles, her nextdoor neighbour and ask him to call in and see if she's.

But Mr Casseroles is even older and shorter than Granny Moss.

Well this is an emergency says Mum then keeps on wiping.

I don't get adults sometimes. Well a lot of the times. 5 sleeps to go!!            click here

 

                                                                       Xmas Story 21th

I spend part of the night worrying about Granny Moss, while sucking on candy canes and whispering in the dark with Angelica. Angelica tells me that Granny Moss needs to eat more yogg-urrt. I say, don't you mean yo-gurt? And she says, no yogg-urrt is better for strong bones.

Next morning the phone goes really early and Granny Moss's cheerful little voice says, don't worry kiddlywinks it was a false alarm. Mr Casseroles ran me into the doctor and I've only sprained my ankle. And thankfully it's my left ankle which I don't really use for driving so see you this after noon toodle pip.

And the line goes dead before I can say have a good trip and don't forget the Russian fudge.

Eek 4 sleeps to go. I'm so excited about Santa arriving now my toes are tingling.

 

                                                                        Xmas Story 22nd

You won't believe what Granny Moss had in her handbag when she arrived. She always brings a little something for us to open before Xmas day...No I'm not talking about the super huge box of her world famous Russian fudge. Remember what I was desperately wanting way back at the beginning of December and I wasn't allowed??

Yes. Yes she bought The Santa Off-Roader, the one out of the catalogue that I really really wanted. Orsom. He has been flashing and singing and swaying about so hard I had to ring Dad at the office and ask him to bring home some more double A batteries. I am in Xmas heaven.

Dad says, the sooner that thing breaks the better.

Granny Moss says, oh put a cork in it Ted. It's Christmas.

To do: Get Dad to buy Granny Moss - one electric egg-nogg beater. She really deserves one. 3 sleeps to go. Boo-ya!

 

                                                                        Xmas Story 23rd

Two days until Xmas and all is calm on the Maxwell-Small home front. Granny Moss is in the kitchen stuffing stuffing into a large free range organic chicken. Angelica is spraying glitter hair spray onto her front-door-Xmas-wreath. Rocco is attempting to hang his farm animals onto the - smothered in decorations already -Xmas tree. I am cutting angels out of ginger cookie dough. And Mum and Dad have gone on a secret mission which means Xmas shopping for us kids. Boo-ya.

Tomorrow is Xmas eve. The 24 days and nights of waiting for Santa to scoot down the chimney are almost over. I feel like I have been holding my breath for the whole of December.

Ahhhhhhhhhh - that's me breathing a humungous out-breath of relief. 2 sleeps/48 hours to go. Let the final countdown begin.

You've still got time to make an angel tree topper fo your tree...press this button go on!

 

                                                                         Xmas Story 24th and Last

Twas the night before Christmas and all was calm. I was in bed. Quiet but not sleeping. I got up to go to the loo. And I noticed twinkling lights dappling the wallpaper out of the tiniest corners of my eyes. The lights were in the shape of baby elves. Santa must be at work already, I thought? I followed those twinkly elf-lights down the hallway to the kitchen, where the kitchen clock blinked 00.21 - (twenty one minutes passed midnight local time). Then I heard a loud-ish drum and clatter above my head. On the roof? Is that Santa's Sleigh landing? I shivered, even though I was wearing my thick red pie-jamas. Suddenly a louder shattering sound came from the living-room. Dun dun dun dun.

I tucked in my jarmies, took a deep breath and tip toed towards the noise. And what did I find? Naughty naughty Granny Moss sitting on the floor. With an unwrapped electric egg-beater beside her. OK it's past midnight - so it's officially Christmas. But no else was opening presents - they were all in bed. Worst part was she had all these bottles around her and was pouring things into a bowl with one hand and trying to crack eggs with the other.

Wot are you doing Granny Moss? I asked.Well she just about jumped out of her dressing gown.

Is that you lily Max? she said squinting. Blimey child you just about gave me a heart attack.

You gave me one first. I thought you were Santa crashing down the chimney.

I always have an eggnog on Christmas eve. It's traditional. And your Mum and Dad were out so late I didn't get one.

It's also traditional to open your presents with your family Granny Moss.

Ok I'll just pour a glass to leave for Santa. It works very well. Thank you. Please don't tell on me she added, getting sticky tape out of her pocket and wrapping her electric egg beater back up in wrinkly Xmas paper.

I won't. But you're not Santa are you?

No. Come on we better skedaddle so the real Santa can come.

I head back to bed disappointed I hadn't sprung Santa in action. But also relieved that it was Granny being naughty, not being Santa.

You must believe to receive. Merry Xmas everyone. Lily Max xx