A Very Bogan Christmas Part Two

I fear I may have even bored myself ,writing this, so if you are still here at the end of this sentence, let alone the  entire post, I commend you. You are not a quitter. Or you need to get out more.

The Bogan festivities continued with an early celebration at my brother's home on the 22nd, as he and his family were going away. Gifts were exchanged, then the usual eating ourselves into a coma commenced.

During which, we somehow managed to avoid the most favourite topic of conversation for my family.

Winning Lotto. More specifically, what we would do if we ever win it. Yes, we frequently discuss this.

My brother and Dad also used to have a regular debate about how the money was allocated. One insisted it was given in a lump sum, the other was firmly convinced it was paid in instalments.

These discussions can become quite intense. The fact that the chances of winning lotto are so remote as to be practically non-existent becomes completely  irrelevant. We never pause to consider the utter absurdity of spending money which we will never have.

We may have exhausted this topic, finally. This time we discussed holidays and the utter insanity that is Christmas shopping and gift giving. A great day was enjoyed by all.

Then, I out did myself, on the 24th with an extremely classy and elegant Christmas Eve dinner.

Bogan Christmas Tree. Simply..stunning,
though not in a good way..

Maccas.

Completely disgusting and ridiculously over priced Maccas too. Is there any other kind?

Then, the count down for Santa's arrival began.  The boys were beside themselves, bursting with excitement.

"How many more hours will it be now?" Mr 8 would ask, approximately every twelve minutes.

He also became uncharacteristically concerned that the house should be clean and tidy for Santa's arrival, in case he didn't receive any presents. Of course, this behaviour never occurs on any other day of the year.

I somehow escaped for a few minutes to the boys room, intending to fold the pile of laundry there. Instead, I crashed on Mr 8's bed.Thinking, rightfully, that it will be a very long night so therefore it might be a good idea if I just closed my eyes briefly for a little snooze.I may have under estimated how tired I was as I was comatose for at least an hour.

Zombie like, I emerged, blinking and bustled the boys to bed. This took some doing as they were hyped up and there was no way in hell they were going down without a fight.

 Then, and only then, could our secret mission begin. Mr 11 may have outwitted us, cunningly pretending to be asleep. Thankfully I had wrapped almost everything in advance, so it didn't take us long to place everything under the tree and bugger off to bed at around midnight. I was just drifting off to snooze land again,when I heard creaking floorboards. 

"I'm just going to check if Santa's been!" declared Mr 11, cheerfully.

"GET BACK INTO BED, NOW!!" I bellowed, scaring the bejesus out of Micky Blue Eyes.

"But, I'm just checking if-  " Mr 11 started, defiantly.

"BACK TO BED!" Mick thundered, now wide awake and murderous.

"Fine!" Mr 11 stomps back to bed.

I finally nodded off again. A short time later, I was awoken by sobbing. Mr 4. I stumbled out of bed and into his room, where he was huddled on the bed, still sobbing.

"Mummy!" he wails. I snuggle next to him. Soon, I am snoring again. After a restless night, I am awoken by an exhilerated Mr 11 and 8 shouting that Santa had come. Surprisingly, it was not Stupid O'Clock, but a respectable 7.30am. Presents were opened in record time. Then, the fun truly began.

As we had no idea in hell how to work the Ipods Mr11 and 8 had received. As well as being an astonishing Bogan, I am also an astonishing technophobe. A few tense hours later, they were up and running and the boys were clicking away taking photos.

We finally headed off to my parents house for Christmas lunch. It was pouring rain, but this was a pleasant change from the stifling heat from the day before.

Instead of turkey(bugger that),we had Lobster Mornay made by my Mum, The Best Cook In The World Ever. Yes, she deserves capitals. As we prepared to tuck in, Micky Blue Eyes commented wryly that we should be taking a snap of it to post on Facebook. We just laughed and didn't bother, so you'll have to imagine it.

It was, indeed, a most excellent day. I felt like the happiest Bogan in Boganville. What more could you ask for? Please don't answer that question.

So, that's  our very boring Bogan Christmas done and dusted for yet another year!

How was your Christmas day? How do you celebrate, if at all?