I warned them that if they moved out of the car while I went in to pick Osh up, Father Christmas would not be coming to them. When I went in to get Osh, he had soiled his nappy so I asked if the staff would mind changing him as I had to keep an eye on the three boys through the window. I turned round to check on them and all three blond-haired, blue-eyed, six-year-old angels were out of the car on the elevated grass bank opposite the BBC (where I work and am respected) and they all had their todgers out, pissing in the air and swaying back and forth showing them to the traffic below, cheering like drunken football fans after an away win. I went out and said in my primmest voice, ‘Back in the car – immediately!’ Obviously the Father Christmas threat didn’t work and I wondered how I was going to control them all for the next few hours.
I took them all to McDonald’s (cop out I know, but at least they will eat it) and they were rather loud and noisy, but boys will be boys and it’s just nice to see them so happy. Then they played in the house for a few hours and Rhodri took them home. Ah, peace and quiet. If I could have stayed at home and had children earlier, and found out how much I enjoyed being a mother, I would have had more children, but life doesn’t work like that. I have two healthy, happy little boys and am grateful to God, or whatever greater good is out there that gave me them, every day.
December 23, Saturday
Sioned and Ali are arriving later and, big excitement, we are going to Waitrose en famille. Waitrose surely is the Christmas supermarket. We never go shopping together en famille because 1) Rhodri is never around to go shopping and 2) it is much too stressful. However, when there are two adults and two children and Osh can have an entire trolley to himself without a single item annoying him, then it is luxury.
There is a depressing air about Waitrose. It’s an upmarket supermarket, to serve the very posh Vale of Glamorgan, but located in the downmarket town of Barry, which is surrounded by a chemical works. You could never sell your house if you lived there, except to someone else who worked in the chemical works. It is like something out of Blade Runner – I kid you not.
You have all these posh people in their 4 x 4’s putting truffles in their trolleys, and outside you have people who can’t afford to come in the door. All of this made me feel slightly uncomfortable. Maybe they can put some trees around the houses by the chemical works so the eyes of the middle-classes are not offended.
It was really quiet in Waitrose, with lovely food, although, lots of it had sold out, and reassuringly expensive (won’t be going again). I remembered also when I went there why I haven’t been supermarket shopping with Rhodri for years, because he undermines my purchasing. I put something in the trolley and he gets it out again and we end up having an argument about the merits of the said item in the middle of the supermarket.
Osh was in his element with a trolley (train as he calls it) all to himself and he sat in it being very cute, shouting at the top of his voice, ‘Merry Christmas, everybody!’ over and over again.
Sioned and Ali arrived with enough food for two Christmases and they looked after the children while Rhodri and I went out for a meal with Alison K, Neil and Ian J and his friend Helen to the local Indian, where we all ate, drank and were Christmas merry.
December 24, Sunday
Christmas Eve is here at last. The sweets in the Advent calendars are all present and correct: there is one left in each. Elis has finally acknowledged that Santa is coming tomorrow; he has been saying for some time it is today and has called me a ‘liar’, a word I do not like at all, because I was saying it is tomorrow, which it was not. I now have to host Owain and Eva, Rhodri’s brother and shiny new wife, and Rhodri’s parents for lunch. No one got out of bed until eleven – well, I say no one, I was up about seven with two children but the others were nowhere to be seen. However, when they got up they sprang into action and within a short space of time there was a lovely feast on the table fit for a king. We all tucked into lunch and exchanged gifts to be opened on Christmas day.
I had a little sleep in the afternoon – well, tried to, as it was slightly chaotic with the children. We had a sort of shift system, with girls first (me and Sioned) then boys (Rhodri and Ali) so we all got a rest.
My father came down with Elis’s bike (his present from my parents) and stayed for a bit talking to Sioned and Ali.
I managed to get the children to bed early after doing the reindeer food: a carrot, a mince pie, a glass of wine, and establishing where Santa was going to put the presents. I lay in bed with the two little bodies reading Away in a Manger (the story of the nativity) and ’Twas the Night Before Christmas – I love that poem – to get them all Christmased up for tomorrow. Osh went off to sleep and Elis and I lay in bed chatting about Santa and what he might bring. Martyn rang when I was in bed. I had my phone in my pocket and I was chatting to him and wished him Merry Christmas. When I put the phone down, Elis thought that I had been talking to Santa. I had to wait some time then to make sure Elis was fast asleep – I couldn’t face the thought of ruining the Christmas myth for him.
So then we put all the presents out, which took some time, and there was a ridiculous amount of stuff. Every year I say I’m not going to buy much and every year I do.
Anyway, I then remembered the bike in the shed (thankfully) and Rhodri had to get it out and Ali and Sioned spent about half an hour wrapping it meticulously. We drank some wine and we went to bed.
December 25, Monday
Christmas-time. Mistletoe and rhyme . . . It’s here at last, Christmas Day. Rhodri and I are sleeping in Elis’s room as Sioned and Ali have our room. There are two mattresses on the floor; they were supposed to be for me and Rhodri to sleep on as a couple but Rhodri said it would spark his allergy to dust off so Elis and I are on the mattresses on the floor and Rhodri is in the bunk (very romantic).
I had been awake for about half an hour (it was about seven thirty) just waiting for Elis to wake up – not a peep from Osh next door – thinking I couldn’t go down for a cup of tea as Elis might wake up and come down and it might spoil the spirit of Christmas. So I was waiting and he got up and went to the toilet and came back. I said to him, ‘Do you remember what day it is?’ and he said, ‘Yes, it’s Christmas.’ I said, ‘Shall we go down and see if Santa has left you anything?’ and he said, ‘No, thanks, I feel a bit sick.’ So I lay next to him feeling his forehead for a minute, thinking he might really be ill but he seemed OK, then he said, ‘OK, let’s go down now.’ I think the anticipation was all too much for him.
Of course we then had to get Osh up and Rhodri up and Sioned and Ali up before Elis could go down, and by this time he was like a racehorse at the starting gate. Finally, all assembled, all present and correct at the landing roll call, we went downstairs and, ‘He’s been!’ and it was a mad frenzy. Osh didn’t know what had hit him; Elis was just ripping at things like a semi-madman. Osh meticulously opened a present then had to have it out of the box immediately before going on to the next present (which meant he was all morning opening his stuff until Elis helped out). It was a really lovely morning, all captured on video and film, of course.
The house looks as if someone has ransacked it. Christmas lunch was amazing; we had chicken and coriander with aubergine and tomato and rice and salad and mint dips and champagne. It was mmm. As my mother always says at the end of a Christmas Day, ‘It’s as far away now as it will ever be.’
December 26, Tuesday
Boxing Day is Cardiff City Day in our house: a family tradition stretching back to when Elis was born and, coincidentally, Rhodri embraced Cardiff City with a vengeance. Elis was born and within a few short months Rhodri had become this fanatical Cardiff City fan and buggered off every other weekend to watch the match. It used to be a big bone of contention between us as we’d both be working all week then come Saturday he’d be out all day and I’d be left literally holding the baby. I guess I’ve just got used to it now but if he EVER EVER suggested away games I’d be cutting up his Ambassadors membership for sure.
I don’t go as I have never understood all the fuss about football, but Elis and Rhodri went with Jonah and Peter his dad. Elis has become as fanatical as Rhodri about football; talk about in your own image. He comes down of a morning now and instead of putting on his usual cartoons, he checks out the league tables. He’s six, for God’s sake. I didn’t even know what they were until I was about twenty. He will also watch obscure leagues on Sky Sports like the German League and he comes in to ask Rhodri which side he should be supporting.
Sioned and Ali and Osh and I went for a walk around Roath Park. We walked all around the park and our treat was to be a coffee when we got around, but as we arrived at the café it was shutting! It was very cold out, freezing in fact, so we went home to coffee and chocolate cake to try to warm ourselves up a bit.
We did our girl/boy sleeping rota again and I slept for about two hours. So far we have eaten, drunk and slept our way through Christmas.
December 27, Wednesday
Went to Branwen and Patrick’s house today with Rhodri, Elis, Osh and Sioned and Ali, or Ali and Ali, as Osh is calling them for some reason. Ali is Ali and Sioned is ‘and Ali’ or sometimes just Ali, so Osh is following her around the house going, ‘Come on, Ali.’ He will NOT have it that her name is Sioned. It is very funny.
Rhodri’s parents were there, we had coffee and I sat at the kitchen table and made things out of Play Doh, as you do. Then we went up to my mother’s house and she made us all turkey and chips, which I ate with a huge amount of white bread and pickled onions. Christmas is perfect now. Sioned and Ali went back to London so Rhodri and I, or should I say me barking orders at Rhodri, took the opportunity to tidy up and get a bit of order back in our house which is bursting at the seams with stuff and will have even more stuff when it is Elis’s party so I have to find homes for this stuff to make way for the other stuff that will follow. Lloyd is coming for a sleepover tonight.
December 28, Thursday
Lloyd went to bed quite early last night. He was exhausted, a bit Christmased out and had a little cry for his mummy, but it didn’t last long. I think he just needed to sleep. Elis came down and watched a bit of telly with us. Lloyd and Elis are only two years apart but Elis is not really into fantasy role playing until Lloyd comes down, so they spent all last night and today being Jedi Knights and Power Rangers, both united against one evil – Osh.
Osh is their mortal enemy, which means running away from him and screaming at the top of their voices every time he comes near them. Instead of being phased by all of this, Osh runs after them screaming and making monster noises at them. Lloyd is obsessed with Osian touching anything that belongs to him – he thinks he will break it. He is also a great teller of tales which is very handy because if Osh does the slightest naughty thing, he will come down and tell me.
Osh is such a good sport for a small wee thing and had, I thought, no idea he was actually their mortal enemy and the aim was to keep him out of the bedroom. He is slightly more canny than I thought, though, as I heard him saying to Lloyd rather wearily, ‘Don’t kill me any more, Lloyd. Can you stop killing me now?’ So I intervened and made them all play ‘nicely’ together which is all any mummy with three screaming juvenile Christmas maniacs round her wants to do. Julia and Martin came to pick him up suitably hungover – they had stayed the night in a hotel in Cardiff with their friends. I was for once in my life quietly smug that Julia has a hangover, as I have spent my life being in the shadow of her control and self-restraint where alcohol is concerned.
December 29, Friday
Rhodri has gone to work. He was making this big point of keeping Osh off nursery like some Victorian dad with his, ‘No child of mine goes to nursery over Christmas,’ then informs me THIS MORNING that he is going to work today. I was bloody furious and had Osh in the crèche within fifteen minutes of this announcement, kicking and screaming as I left him, wailing, ‘Mummy , Mummy!’ I have to admit, much as I love my little angel, I didn’t look back and had a bit of a skip in my step knowing I didn’t have the 24/7 responsibility for him. They always stop crying the minute you leave them anyway – at least, that’s what they tell you in the nursery.
Elis and I went to Techniquest as part of my great Christmas Plan to spend one-to-one quality time with him. Osh gets me to himself a lot of the time as Rhodri tends to do things with Elis more. I was on the way to Techniquest when a fire engine passed us and I said, ‘Oh, I hope that’s not going to Techniquest,’ and when we got there it was. They had evacuated the place so we went for lunch; I tried to persuade Elis that hummus and olives in the Millennium Centre were preferable to an American-style diner but unfortunately that argument falls on deaf ears with a six year old, so we went to the American-style diner which he thought was great, of course, and insisted on sitting next to me like you would on a ‘date’.
He has a mild interest in going on a date but at this stage of his life it is only with me (first option) or with Rhodri (second option). I apparently would have to pay as he doesn’t have any money, which is exactly what happened the first time his father and I went on a date. A chip off the old block, no doubt.
At the moment though, he is very anti-girls and says ‘Yuck!’ every time anything remotely girly comes on TV – a habit which Osh has now picked up on. He wants to live with either Ben or Jonah, his two friends from school, depending on where his allegiances lie at the time. This needs to happen apparently so that they can live in a flat, drink beer and watch football with no babies around them, and even when they are old ‘mans’, as Elis puts it, they will still be watching football, so there you have it – Elis’s life-plan.
Techniquest had reopened by the time we finished lunch and we went in. My period started on Christmas Day and has got progressively worse ever since. It is not at all painful but is very heavy and I have been getting clots. But this has been nothing, no, nothing, compared to what I experienced in Techniquest. It was basically like someone had turned on a tap. Like having a miscarriage without the pain. There were enormous blood clots and lots of blood. I kept having to go to the toilet. I didn’t like leaving Elis in the play area on his own so I kept dragging him along with me to the toilet. After the third time I did this I had to let him just play on his own, on pain of death he wouldn’t move out of the building, and if ANYONE approached him he was to start screaming and kick them and say, ‘I don’t know you!’ at the top of his voice. I hope that never backfires and he doesn’t use it on me, getting me carted off to the local police station.
Anyway, I had to change my towel about six times in an hour and a half. In the end I just sat on the toilet for about ten minutes as there was no point leaving it. It was a bloody nightmare. It stopped eventually but it left me feeling really drained.
Got home and looked up chemo and periods on the internet. This is a very common side effect, apparently (thanks for telling me, everyone). I thought I was going to have my periods obliterated and live a life free of the evil curse, but no, instead they come with a vengeance.
December 30, Saturday
Kerry, Richard C, Daisy and Felix are coming tomorrow to stay for New Year’s Eve and Ian J is coming along too, but not staying. Ah, the old gang reunited under one roof with the addition of four children aged three months to six, nearly seven, years. So Rhodri and I tided the house to within an inch of its life and it looked like something out of a magazine for all of one afternoon. I guess this is how your house looks if you have ‘help’ or ‘servants’ as Elis likes to call anyone who waits on you.
Rhodri, Elis and my father went to the football, Osh watched the telly and I made a Beef Bourguignon for tomorrow so I wouldn’t have to be cooking all day. I bought a nut roast for Ian J which is a huge cop out, but serves him right for being a vegetarian.
December 31, Sunday
Nearly the end of another year, a rather eventful one in the Williams-Huw household – well, for me certainly. The children wouldn’t have noticed, although they will of course benefit for years t
o come from the new enlightened me. Felix and Osh played really well together and we all had a really nice time. Kerry and I were just itching to get the champagne started (we had four bottles in total) but didn’t dare touch a drop until all the children were tucked up in their beds.
Ian J came round and I told Rhodri everything was prepared, he just had to cook the potatoes and heat it all up as I was too tipsy to possibly co-ordinate anything and, hey presto, a gourmet New Year’s Eve dinner. We got on the champagne with a vengeance and were quite pissed within about an hour. The food was a triumph – thanks, Delia, for the recipe and to me for being, when I want to be, a fabulous cook. Everyone wanted seconds, even Ian with his nut roast (a triumph for Tesco, no doubt).
Osh woke up about 11.30 p.m. and came downstairs by himself and was watching Scooby Doo in the other room.
New Year started with a bang from the fireworks outside and hugs and kisses all round, including a few group hugs (we were very pissed by this time), and Osh was here to celebrate it with us. The others slept soundly through it all.
I sat at the kitchen table and for a little while just looked at the others in the adjoining room – Richard lying out on the sofa, Kerry sitting beside him, Ian and Rhodri with their playful banter. I felt a bit like the happy-go-lucky me, before I had cancer, with a glass of champagne in my hand and the company of my dearest friends, laughing and joking like I didn’t have a care in the world.
My Mummy Wears a Wig - Does Yours? A true and heart warming account of a journey through breast cancer Page 17
