2) Your children go another level psychotic. ANOTHER LEVEL. If they could physically hang off the lampshades? They would. Whilst singing "JINGLE BELLS BATMAN SMELLS" at the top of their lungs and throwing mince pies at your head.
3) You will use the threat of phoning Father Christmas so much that you forget which lies you have told. "But you said that the smoke detector was a direct camera to him? Not the carbon monoxide one Mummy". SO MANY LIES.
I AM A FESTIVE PSYCHO!
5) What started off as making you so happy now makes you wish you could rip every single decoration down. You also get sick of slightly moving and 462 tiny Christmas cards fall to the floor in a domino effect.
6) You live in fear that at any time your little one will find that you've got a Hatchimal shoved at the back of your wardrobe and LEGO shoved in the second drawer down in the bathroom.
Smile and I basically will give you ANYTHING you want
7) You lie awake at night thinking "now just where the hell am I going to put the fresh load of tat that is going to be entering my house any day now?". You make a mental note to get rid of old toys but forget it as you drift off to sleep dreaming of Bloom in the CBeebies Panto.
8) You ordain that everything you eat is calorie free. That somehow wrapping presents burns calories. That technically as it's cold it's a really good idea to be storing up fat. And if you deprive yourself of three mine pies twice a day? What would Jesus think?
9) Your efforts to take festive photos result in your nearly having a breakdown, your children crying and your husband saying "do I really have to dress as f*cking reindeer?". When the "Father Christmas sits in trees watching children" terrifying threat doesn't work. You just give them huge amounts of chocolate till you get the shot. Whilst saying "THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN!".
This has 0 calories. Fact
10) The day arrives. You've planned it for a month. Your fingers are numb from so much wrapping (your husbands are fine but you mentally agree to forget that, for now). Your children run downstairs and SCREAM with delight. Presents are opened in a frenzy. No-one can quite remember what they put on their list anyway. And you remember that despite all the stress? That Christmas is a f*cking amazing day. And you have four mince pies to celebrate with a side order of a selection box.