Silent Night – Holy Shite!

Dadabulous and I are awesome parents. In a display of parental awesomeness we very selflessly took the girls to a local Christmas carol event on Sunday evening. This may not sound like much of a sacrifice but for Dadabulous Christmas carols are the ultimate form of aural torture. In his perfect world caroling and Mariah Carey would be banned by the Geneva convention. Playing Christmas carols by Mariah Carey would be punishable by death – perhaps an ironic death by caroling. Dadabulous prayed for rain and was taunted by the weather  Gods who sent a light clearing shower two hours before the show. By the time 6.30pm rolled around we were committed. We fortified ourselves by gulping chardonnay and headed beachside for the Annual Coogee Carols.

As we approached the beach we realized that Silent Night was way off target. A better description would be a few thousand Christmas heads wearing Santa hats and reindeer antlers (some simultaneously) jammed into a field slowly getting sozzled. We wiggled our way through the festive throng (because a vertically challenged family can get away with that) to the strains of primary school students singing Jingle Bells – badly. Off key vocals didn’t dampen P2’s delight. She squealed “Yay – I sang this at kindy” and skipped through the crowd grinning from ear to ear.

The girls amid a crowd of Christmas heads.

The girls amid a crowd of Christmas heads.

We experienced our own Christmas miracle when we located our friends- a feat akin to finding a needle in a haystack.  We then took up our own piece of turf to the obvious disgust of the family directly behind us and settled in to enjoy the extravaganza of local celebrities. I don’t know where the A listers were but Realty TV graduates and bit players from the musical theater featured heavily.  A former Master Chef contestant made a meal of Away In A Manger. A perky TV weather chick struggled through one of the classics – buggered if I can remember which one. At this stage no one was drunk enough for bad karaoke. It’s not a party until someone pukes. A boy seated next to us obliged quite early in the piece. He continued to shove Pringles in his mouth whilst his parents mopped up the foul smelling mess.

All the favorites were wheeled out one by one – White Christmas, All I Want For Christmas Is You, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, The Little Drummer Boy etc etc. The hits just kept on coming. In the meantime the crowd, Team Abulous included, purchased faux candles to do the job previous generations performed with cigarette lighters. They lit up the scene like fairy lights and were just the right size for the kids to stick in my ears and down my throat.

Perfect to stick in your mother's ear.

Perfect to stick in your mother’s ear.

Hands were waved in the air to the John Lennon’s “And So This Is Christmas”. Thankfully Paul McCartney’s contribution to the silly season  – Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time was left on the shelf.  The quality of the performances improved considerably as the evening wore on. The turning point came for me when I was offered a glass of champagne – Evans & Tate no less.  As the tempo picked up the girls rocked the night away – because jingle bell time is a swell time to do just that. P2 unleashed her inner Beyonce shaking her “bum bum” and flashing her slightly damp knickers. P1 twirled her torch with the best of them. The hit of the night was, ironically given my previous post – Last Christmas.  The girls bopped enthusiastically as if they were channeling my 14 year old self.

That's the jingle bell rock.

That’s the jingle bell rock. Go P1.

On the way home we were treated to a fireworks display and the look of wonderment on P2’s face said it all. Trudging back up the hill the girl’s agreed “That was the best show ever. That was soooo fun”. I reiterate – Dadabulous and I are truly awesome parents.  The only downside is that a week out  I have exhausted my Christmas carol quotient for the year. The next time I hear Silent Night I’ll run from the room screaming “Holy shite!” with my hands covering my ears. This should make the week’s grocery shopping interesting to say the least.

Seven shopping days to go Mumrades.



The relationship between consumption of this and enjoyment of Christmas carols is directly proportional.

The relationship between consumption of this and enjoyment of Christmas carols is directly proportional.