Along with sprouts, bad telly and a chocolate overdose, Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without a few arguments.
I now know I will never win another one as long as MS insists on using my brain as Play-doh.
I used to be quite good at thinking on my feet, remembering the punchlines to jokes and telling anecdotes without losing the thread halfway through. I could also hold my own pretty well in an argument or disagreement.
Those days have passed and I now sit with a slightly perplexed look on my face as I work out my response to a point made ten minutes earlier. In the spirit of fairness, I reckon us peeps with MS should be given a few allowances when it comes to arguing:
- We should be given prior notice, giving us time to think of some clever and witty retorts.
- We should be allowed to take notes during the aforementioned argument. A personal scribe should be allotted if, like me, your handwriting is now worse than your neurologist’s.
- We should be granted ‘argument breaks’, allowing us time to gather our thoughts (and energy). Lucozade should be supplied as standard.
- Similarly, a sofa should be made available if we start yawning, and the argument rescheduled for a more convenient time.
I’m resigning myself to the fact that I am now a pushover when it comes to arguing, although when The Teenager starts one (all too frequently over this festive season), I end up falling back on that age-old parent phrase – ‘because I said so’. Which isn’t very original, but you can’t argue with that one. This is normally followed by The Teenager storming upstairs and blasting out his music.
To be honest, I don’t really miss point-scoring and the hollow victory of winning every argument. My initial frustration has given way to calm acceptance and I have now added it to my list of things I have lost, along with heels and staying up past my bedtime.
So the next time an argument brews, I will stumble inelegantly away or just stay put and use one of The Teenager’s favourite phrases, ‘talk to the hand’..