Our perfectly IMPERFECT CHRISTMAS
When two divorced people fall in love and remarry, it’s a beautiful thing. For them. Ex-spouses are more likely to throw rotten eggs than confetti and, no matter how sensitively handled, children whose lives have already been upended will inevitably feel torn. When my husband Jonathan and I got together, we agreed we had more baggage than the hold of a Boeing 747. Imagine trying to wrap all that up in shiny red paper at Christmas.
With six children between us, from mid-twenties to eight, Jonathan and I had visions of a willow tree embracing our newly blended super brood under its branches. How naive. Reeling after our first Christmas ‘together’, I was more in the mood for chopping down that tree and using it for firewood.
That year was the first my young sons spent Christmas Day with their dad, who was usually at work in catering. Instead of the usual fun-filled family Christmas at my brother’s, I had the agony of being without them.
