A christmas eve to remember

As far as Christmas eve's go, this one was filled with the same people who are always with us....my family, my sister and her family, my other sister and her family and my mom. This year I was lucky enough to be the host for the dinner and dessert portion of our evening. Everyone also seemed to hang out at our house all day - and by everyone I mean a 6 year old, 5 year old, 4 year old, 3 year old and 6 month old - plus all of the adults that are attached to these children. For me, that meant a lot of chaos and a lot of kids fighting.

The fighting and crying, I think that it was put our chi out of balance. I had a great dinner planned, at least for me a great dinner (because I don't really cook). So, the plan was whole chickens on the grill (the kind with the beer can, ya know). Then some au-gratin potatoes, salad, asparagus salad thing, rolls, and dessert.

I thought I was ahead of the game as I actually went to the grocery store BEFORE christmas eve (as my friend Kathy can attest to, and I was so happy to see her while I was there with my list, in torn jeans, no make up and greasy hair......I was not so happy to see all of the other people in her family that were there along with her, but that is the price one must pay for going out without showering first). Anyhow, I was prepared.

Well, the chickens were still frozen on christmas eve. No biggie, the hubby was doing them on the grill, he had made an entire turkey on that thing just a month before, the grill could certainly handle two little chickens.

I was making a new recipe for the potatoes. You see, generally you should make the recipe first, eat it, then tweak it for guests. I read reviews on it before I made it....I thought that was enough. I cooked the potatoes before I put them in the pan. I made the augratin sauce twice because I did not have enough the first time. Then, I had it all done, and added the bread crumbs with some smoked papricka.

The asparagus was also a new recipe. It was grilled asparagus with garlic, salt, pepper, sun dried tomatoes and oil. Very simple to make, not too many ingredients.

My sister (the cook) made a brie wrapped in a puff pastry with brown sugar and toasted almonds. With the left over puff pastry she made these little mini muffin sized puffed pastries with peanut butter, marshmellow, and chocolate chips.

It sounds very very good doesn't it?

The chicken was still frozen after being on the grill for over an hour, but only frozen in parts, other parts were fully cooked - we ended up eating left over ham from the night before

The augratin potatoes were a bit crunchy despite being precooked and in the oven for well over an hour, plus the smoked papricka was a bit much and the cheese sauce was too thick

The asparagus was good, but I didn't pay attention while mixing it up and I added waaaayyy too much pepper so they had a garlic and pepper KICK

The dessert puff pastries were undercooked and are still sitting on my counter

Next year, we are going to someone else's house for dinner!

Why I volunteer

Earlier this week I had a lunch with my sister (who I always tell people is MUCH nicer than I, at least when it comes to our husbands), her family, my Mom, my kids and my sister's in laws. I was talking to my sister, Mom, and the in laws and relaying a conversation to them that I had recently had with my hubby. The hubby conversation with something like this:

him: why are you always so irritated? It seems like you are mad all of the time.
me: Well, have you EVER had a job where you fail every day?
him: what are you talking about?
me: (please note I do not think I am a bad mom necessarily, just in moments throughout the day) Well, as this stay at home mom I am suppose to cook a meal every night, help my children develop into fine human beings (without yelling at them on a regular basis), do laundry, clean the house, and be happy about it. I fail at AT LEAST one of those (usually all) on a daily basis.

So, I relayed that conversation to this group. I was not looking for sympathy, I was just saying holy crap, this stay at home parenting thing can be a challenge. So, my Mom completely had my back and totally agreed with me on how I felt. She said, that is why I worked the whole time you kids were growing up, I needed those kudos from the outside world. My sister, didn't want to make waves with anyone, so she stood silently (although in a private moment, she would totally agree with me). The mother in law looked at me like she had NO idea what the hell I was talking about. The father in law said "think about it this way, what you are doing is for your family. I had to work for 45 years, and I kept thinking, this is for my family". Of course, being the complete smart ass that I am, I said, "yes, but at work you got promotions, you had people telling you on a regular basis that you were doing a good job, and as much as you worked you gained self confidence and self worth from it".

That is when the silent stares began.

But it made me think. I do know I am a good Mom. I know that my kids are good kids. But, I also know why I volunteer during their activities and at school. It is just about the only time I consistently hear thank you! Everyone is so much more impressed with me there than at home! They are so appreciative that I come in and cut paper, or laminate, or shelve books (if you really want to feel appreciated volunteer for Mrs. Hershberger in the library, I walk out of there feeling like I have cured cancer) the smallest things I do are appreciated. I leave there feeling like I have done something good, productive and that people are grateful for my help.

I come home, full of the shine from the volunteering, and I walk into a messy kitchen, loads of laundry, and while I am trying to piece together some kind of semblance of dinner - let's say sandwiches and cut up apples, I am encouraging my child to "do her homework" (which is INSANE for a first grader, but I digress), while creating homework for the 4 year old (because after all she is a big girl). I tell my best joke only to get stares back from my children, and I let my mind wander back to bliss of the silent zone in the halls of the schools where everyone is giving me a thumbs up just for walking into the place!

The big guy

So, I am a member of a Mom's group. I tend to lurk with this group, I don't tend to go to playgroups, moms night out and all of that stuff. The group has an online forum, and I spend some times reading the posts, responding, etc. Anywho....someone posted something about the big guy, you know the dude in the red suit. The question this person posted was if people teach their children that Santa is real. I was taken aback not only by the post but by the responses! There are many people out there who do not want to teach their children some falsehood about something blah blah blah. Others only wanted to celebrate the birth of Jesus and not get the big guy involved.

Guess what, I love Christmas! Yes, I get stressed. Yes, I spend money. Yes, some days I feel pulled in different directions. But, when it comes down to it, I love to bake cookies, decorate gingerbread houses, and watch as my kids talk about Santa. Granted, I have acted like I called Santa so that my sweet children might behave better, but in general I don't use Santa in that way!

I love to see it all through my children's eyes. I love that they light up when they hear about Santa. I love that they are trying to figure out how it gets to all of those houses in ONE night. And, how they are concerned that he might not make it down our "fake propane gas chimney".

After reading the posts from these ladies in my mom's group, I realized, for me, Santa embodies the spirit that is so important for us to maintain. The idea that everyone needs a helping hand sometimes, that everyone deserves to feel special, the fact that magic does exists in the world. The spirit of giving. I know that if I were really wealthy, where I knew my family was taken care of, I would spend much of my money on others. Santa is that little part of all of us who loves surprises, who loves seeing the joy on the faces of the people we love.........and who LOVES sugar cookies with sprinkles!

By the way, we have taught our children something a little strange about Santa. They leave him cookies and beer, because Santa cannot drink all of that milk in one night!

So you think you can sing?

Tonight both of my little girls had their recital. Maggie, the four and a half (very important to mention the 1/2) year old did a ballet number and a tap number. Tyler, the six year and a half year old, did her first ever solo. She sang "You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile" from Annie. It was quite a proud moment for me, and it made me take a little trip down memory lane.

My Dad could sing. He would get out his guitar (or as he would say in his Canadian accent, trying to have a southern accent, GE-tar) and he would sing all of the Bob Denver folksy songs, and whatever else came to mind. He played a lot. He played at school (he was my teacher - remember it was the 70's). There was music in our house quite often. I would sing along, I would sing loud and I would sing proud. He always told me I could sing. I believed him. Heck, I even tried out for a singing part in a musical in high school! I didn't get the part and couldn't quite figure out why.

I remember listening to my Mom and sisters sing and I would think, WOW they cannot carry a tune. In my head, I was Madonna, or Helen Reddy. I was someone and I could carry a tune.

My Dad got sick when I was 25. He got leukemia and then had a Bone Marrow Transplant. He was in the hospital for just over 4 months. There were a few times that he was well enough to "walk the halls", and we would share walks. One day, I thought, what could be better, I will sing to him! So, we walked and I sang. Finally he looked at me and said "leigh, your singing is really bad". WOW, seriously?

Fast forward two years later, and I had met my hubby, Tony. We had not been dating that long and he got to experience me in a car, belting out some tunes. I would just sing it out and he would sing and it was fun. I remember him saying, "I love that you sing" I took that as, I love your singing. Years and years later (we are talking 10 years later) he finally says, "you know, when we first started dating it was cute when you sang in the car, and now, well, not as cute". You see, my hubby can sing. He can carry a tune, and it hurts his ears to hear the pitches I can produce. Don't worry, I still sing in the car, I still sing to him, but I know now that I am a terrible singer.

I am though, a really really lucky Mom. I have a child who can SING! I love that she can sing, I love that she writes her own songs, and I love that she is shy and still gets up on stage to sing. I love that she tells me that I am a very good singer when it comes to lullabyes, but she often tries to help me out with my pitch for songs in the car.

I am also really lucky, because Maggie carries a tune like I do. She loves to sing, she believes she can sing, she believes she is as good as her sister tyler, and she sings loud and proud. She cannot carry a tune in a bucket, and I think I will wait until she is in her 20's to tell her that fact!

Before I was me, I was her.................

Recently one of my dear dear friends phoned with birthday wishes. This girl, Jennifer, is probably one of my dearest friends. We have one of those amazing friendships where neither of us really care of we don't call for 6 months. Once we do reconnect, well, it is like we talked yesterday. She knew me "when". She knew me when I was just me. I was not the Queen Bhe, I was not married, I did not have children, I was just a confused teenager. I remember our first meeting, which we have great delight in telling people, from our own perspectives. We both agree that it was in 10th grade english class with Mr. Stone. Mr. Stone was one of those teachers who was VERY smart, quite disheveled, always had chalk on his nose, had a sweep over, and expected greatness from his students............

In our high school there were two public middle school feeder schools, phillips and culbreth. I came from neither! I had been attending a private, quaker school that had classes like basketweaving. Honestly, there was a class about basketweaving (an elective people!) but there were also classes about the hard core essentials. Of course NO ONE knew this at the public schools.........so as we went around the room and said our previous school, there were some chuckles when I said "carolina friends school" (which, on a side note is a cool school to attend now, but back then, not so much). Sitting in front of me was Jennifer. She had this LONG LONG reddish hair, curled so nicely on ends, she had a ribbon in her hair that matched the belt on her jeans, which matched her socks, which matched her shirt. You get the picture right? She was perfect in every way. I soon realized that she was VERY smart, but also a cool chick. She was quite dismayed the day I came into class in sweatpants and clogs. You know the clogs that were wooden, with swede tops? Well, she said "oh, are you not feeling well today?" I thought, no, I am just comfortable (this is typical attire at my old school). She just laughed. Then I would tease her years later (and still today) how when Mr. Stone would ask a question, Jennifer would preface her answer with something along the lines of "well, Mr. Stone, last summer when I was reading war and peace for fun, I did find the story related to the one we are reading currently".

Jennifer and I were not exactly the typically matched pair. She was in Latin club for heaven sake! But our friendship developed throughout high school. We spent our entire summer before college together. We had one goal, which looking back on it was a very strange goal indeed. We had fake id's, we would go to all of the college bars, and we were determined that Jennifer would lose her virginity before college. SERIOUSLY, how crazy is that? That was our goal. Did we achieve it? Well, some things should be kept between friends!

Anyhow, the point is, she knew me before I really even knew myself. She knew the crazy me, who drank, who had boyfriends, who cried over boys, who had girl trauma in college (over boys of course), and she stuck with me. She knew me before I was someone's wife and someone's mother. She knew my Dad. She knew the wacky house I grew up in and didn't care that it was a bit off of the grid of normalcy. She is turning fourty this weekend. She is now married, with a little boy who is just over one. She is a professor, she has her PhD (this does NOT surprise me), and she is FUNNY, and we laugh.

This is for her, and for all of us who were someone before we became the people we are today.