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Today the Herring family indulged in a dangerous experiment that might very well have destroyed them, if not the whole world. We tried to celebrate Christmas and Easter simultaneously. All of Jesus’ life in just one day? Only a fool would attempt it. But we are a family of fools. Could the human body cope with a Christmas dinner followed by Easter eggs? Of course it couldn’t. But we had to try.
Although it was nice for Phoebe to experience the Christmas that she had only just missed, this was not for her benefit. My nephew Andy, who loves Christmas more than any little boy in the world and had missed the magic because he’d been abroad last year had instigated this (28 years old he is… actually he’s 27). We had to wear our Christmas jumpers (Phoebe got some use out of her reindeer coat), and I felt a bit self-conscious walking from my parents’ house to my sister’s. What would people think of a man and a baby in reindeer-based outfits on Easter Sunday? Would the world spin on its axis or the trumpets that announce the Apocalypse sound? Hardly anyone saw us, but the one family we did see did not say “hello” which is unusual for the countryside. Then we got to the Eastmas house and drank champagne and then headed to the table where as well as turkey and all the trimmings there were huge chocolate eggs waiting for us all. I know there’s chocolate at Christmas too, but somehow to have it in egg form just pushes the envelope too far. I ate more calories in a single lunch than I have in any day for about 15 months and suspect I put on half a stone. If you put unlimited chocolate in front of me, my only choices are to eat none of it or all of it. I ate all of it. Or at least kept eating long after I should have stopped.
This, plus a long drive yesterday, a difficult, tired run around the reservoir this morning (Phoebe also took her first trip round Cheddar’s artificial lake, though with her mum and cousin and in a pram rather than in her trainers, but one day….), too much champagne and a disturbed night of sleep with a poop-covered baby knocked me right out and I fell asleep in the lounge. To be fair maybe the last two months of non-stop baby care and touring played their part.
I rallied briefly, but by 8pm I had to call it a night and went to bed at the same time as my tiny daughter. I was going to be in charge of her through the night, but hoped that sharing this first longer stint of sleep with her I might get back on track.
My belt felt tight and I resolved to never eat chocolate again (and was considering giving all processed sugar a miss for a while too) and get back on a health kick. It had been a fun day and my daughter continued to delight her family (and was very well-behaved around them all, keeping her crying and pooping to times when she was just with her mum and dad), but I had learned why Christmas and Easter are separated by three months and why no one should ever try this madness again.
