Note to self: remember to plan not to plan...

Well, last Friday, the 18th, already feels a long time ago.... at the time, I was saying - goodbye work, see you next year (ok that's only 2 weeks, but a year feels like a proper break!), bring on Fille Ainee's birthday party and Christmas...
and everything was planned - to the minute. To the list of what to bring and what not to bring where, to who, and why. To each of our movement (go and see so and so, then come back and have dinner with x,y,z); family coming for sleep over, menus, ice skating session with the children, trip to Hamleys (and yes, which trains and at what time we would travel.). All planned to the minute.
But what a working mum should know is that planning was invented by a man (who the hell was it, I'll make a Voodoo Doll in his name...) and therefore is doomed to fail...
It all started on Saturday morning, when a long list of things to do awaited me, to ensure Fille Ainee 10th Birthday Party would be a success in the evening (Thank God for Chocolate Fondues and Pantomime!). So the day started with the "item-non-expected-not-included-in-the-list-of-mega-urgent-things-to-do" (and that did not include - finish the 'winter in wonderland cake which was nicely requested "please, pretty please"). "Why do you keep on scratching your head?". Answer from hell: I don't know, it's itchy. No point looking into it - off to Boots and bought the entire stock of nits shampoo, to then take 2 hours, going through Tink's and FilleA's head. They were not hosting just a nit's family. They had invited their extended family, best friends and everyone they could think of. Never thought there could be so many of the b**** thing....
Then off to the pantomime for the birthday party. Brilliant, can't fault it. Especially as the 'crew' came out during the break and after the presentation, so it felt like the panto carried on in the evening! Watch out for 'Friday' (called Friday cause that's the day he washes!!) who decided to call me Saturday, and to the horror of Tink, decided I was his girlfriend. "You can't marry my mum, she said, my dad is already married to her". Fair enough. http://www.the-theatre.org/content.php?TSID=22724
A very good evening though.

Then discussions started about Christmas - although everything was planned. But FamilyOutLaw decided not to go to Devon anymore, but to spend sensibly Christmas in Surrey, given the warm weather we have had. So CheezyHubby offered our house to Brother-In-Law and his family. "all we have to do is making sure we leave them the keys", said (not so sensibly) CheezyHubby. Answer from WorkingMum: "No problems. That's absolutely fine. Honest" and went one to operate massive deep cleaning of the house (down to the curtains, I know it's mad).... And then decided to watch the news.
Oh Hell. A very rude French word rymes with Eurostar. Wonder why.... the quality of the snow was not good enough for the poor trains and therefore they can't run. You are b*** joking. That's how we were going to France for Christmas. So- Travel, won't travel, travel, won't travel, travel, won't travel (you get the picture). I won't bore you with the number of calls from France and the UK - about whether we should (France) or should not (UK) travel... and I am sitting in the middle - the arse between 2 chairs as we say in France (ie - 2 countries in this case, but without trains linking those chairs...)
Closed on Won't travel. Too much risk that we (the girls) could make it and CheezyHubby who would be travelling on Christmas Eve, would not be able to make it on time and would be stuck in lovely Lille. Cause MrBloodyEurostarIcan'tConfirmAnything cannot garantee that CheezyHubby (MY CheezyHubby) would be on the Eurostar that was planned, and therefore might not be able to get a train on time from Lille.
So let's replan everything for Christmas. We will now be 8 in the house (still not a problem, honest), but blimey, let me tackle that pile of ironing (how on earth can have it become so big??!), do more cleaning, (a bit of work too - but don't say anything!!), go to the cinema (Planet 51 - a good laugh to the expense of our Oversea's Friends), let's think about what we will eat and when, and let me go back to the shops (given that one of the things I do when we go away, is make sure nothing is left to turn mouldy in the fridge...!!).
So - thought I was on holiday. I guess I am. With a lot of imagination - we are on a warm tropical island. Shame about the lack of tropical and warm....

Forgot to mention the snow and ice. Well, we have all seen the snow. About the ice: our pathway to the frontdoor was so icy that you could only slide down. You'd actually need a ski lift to take you to the front door. So decided to tackle the 10cm deep of ice with boiling water (I know - it's the one thing not to do, but in the absence of gritting...). Added salt to it, so that the water won't freeze straight away, and swept it. Which worked. To the point where there is no salt left in the house. So decided to use that mix of 'salt and spice' bought in France a few years ago, but never used it. Spread it on the ground. Did not work so well. Reaction from CheezyHubby on his way back from work: "is this the new version of Christmas at the Kumar?". Opened the door. The spices I used smelt of curry. And yes, it smelt like CheezyHubby had diversed his business in curry houses.... But that was not planning for the girls reaction the next day, when we went out (guess - we needed some salt...). "Mum - someone was sick on our path, how disgusting, why people do that". How do you then explain that yes, the ice has changed to a sick colour and the smell is... but no, no-one has been sick, it's just the latest de-icing technique.... let's just move on....

So, bring on Christmas. French parents will be on their own, while I'll try and cheer up here, hoping Father Christmas brings a Voodoo Doll with Eurostar written all over it. B**** b****. They are now all happy that they are clearing the back log. No wonder, if noone turns up at the station that they will clear it before Christmas, claim that they cleared it so quickly and so well - and no compensation for people's ruined Christmas, who are helping their brand. Mr Brown (not Gordon, the one from Eurostar - actually, that makes me think there might be something in the name!!) is not going to like the letter he will get (ok - i know, he'll never see it - his comms dolly will... oh well - if it's good enough, he might get a climpse of a scan of it. But that would assume that he cares...).
So, bring on Christmas, and now the family in law is coming for Christmas Eve. Father-OutLaw is obviously controlling who will cook what and when; so I had great pleasure in changing plans (why on earth would I get my sister in law, who is staying with us, to bring a curry and cook it here, while I am reading the paper (or clearing that curry smell outside!!!)).... So all that batch cooking is not wasted. Bring on Jamie's pies (Who hate all the pies?!) and pudds!
Merry Christmas to you all - and let's hope 2010 brings better news....
and if any further disaster strike in the household before the end of 2009, well, I am sure they'll feature on this blog in due course!