Mother in Law: A new year

My relationship with New Year has been long and evolving. I got to the age of about 12 and decided it was totally lame to go to bed and not do anything, but what should I do? My family members either wanted to go to bed or be anywhere but with their little sister. I would force jollity and a rental video on my mum, who would still then be in bed by 9pm. One year I made her walk with me towards my gran’s house - which was some miles and major roads away. I’m not sure why we didn’t get in the car, and why I thought my gran’s would be rockin’. We gave up half way and came home and went to bed. At the age of about 15 I went to my friend Hannah’s because we both felt the need to 'do something', or at least to do nothing together, and we banged pots and pans at her front door because apparently that’s a thing down some roads. 

After a reasonable millennium house party and a spell of admittedly spectacular New Year’s Eves whilst travelling, in my early twenties I found I was back in this weird limbo of not knowing what to do again. Once I went for a meal with the one I ended up marrying, but how do you make the meal go on til midnight, unless you book your table for 10pm or something? I cannot think of anything worse than waiting that long to eat. And then it dawned on me. Not only do I love eating on time, I love going to bed on time. I’m not 13 and I don’t care what people think. As for fireworks, well, now that I have a dog who, under prescribed medication still pins me to the sofa with her not inconsiderable weight, panting and drooling at the very first bang, I think they should all be banned.

But you know what I really love? New Year’s Day. Especially this one. For the last two - like everyone else - I’ve been in survival mode, with the only plans afoot being lesson plans, or plans to stock up on lateral flows, or plans that you must be very clear with yourself and the children could be cancelled at any time right up to the last minute. But now, between the four of us, we have had ten vaccinations and six positive tests and I am ready to plan hard and plan good for 2023. I know we still have to be sensible and things could change, but going into 2023, for me, Covid is no longer front and centre.

Of course, I love a resolution. Not a punishment, I hasten to add. I’m not going to get through the coldest, darkest months of the year without hearty food and red wine. But reflections and readjustments after the December craziness, with hope, positivity and slight self-improvement are so much fun. Sugar in my tea, McDonalds and Facebook are all things I’ve given up on previous New Years and clearly I’m better for it. This year I’m giving up disposable coffee cups. My kids have been infected by my New Year vibes and, of their own accord, one has decided to eat five new vegetables (which will then make a total of five that they eat overall) and the other has decided not to call out after she’s been put to bed. I won’t lie, if these come off I will be over the moon.

I’m going to be organised and minimalist this year. This is what I really wanted to tell you about. For £25 on Amazon I’ve bought possibly the best thing I’ve ever owned. It can fit in my pocket and is transforming my life. It is a label maker. I design the label on my phone, click a button and out it comes. Granted, so far it has mostly been stolen by Deceptively Angelic Child 2 who has labelled her doll’s tops, doll’s trousers, doll’s pants, doll’s bedwear, doll’s shoes etc but, when I get a look in, I really think it is going to be the making of us. At least, it should stop the constant shouts from the kids of 'WHICH BIN DOES THIS GO IN' and my reply of 'THE LEFT/RIGHT ONE' and their reply of 'WHICH ONE IS LEFT/RIGHT' and my reply of 'THE ONE CLOSEST TO THE BACK DOOR/FRIDGE'.

The one I married is not a fan of all this New Year stuff. Apparently he 'constantly tries to improve himself and doesn’t need a special day to do it'. Apparently a clear plastic container of crackers doesn’t need a label saying 'crackers'. My response was that if he knew that’s where the crackers go, why does he never put them back in there. DALC1 tried to label his drawers but apparently all his drawers contain a combination of all his things - socks, pants, T shirts and pyjamas. On receiving this information DALC1 and I both had to breathe slowly into paper bags for a couple of minutes. As the decluttering continues this January, my advice to him - when he reads this - is to read the label that is on the bag with the Brownie uniform, My Little Pony lunchbox and last year’s Strictly annual and try to avoid getting put in there too.

Some facts and identities have been altered in the above article