For example, the night before the annual Christmas cookie baking and decorating, I pulled the big basket of cookie cutters out of the pantry, gave each of the kids a giant bowl and asked them to pick out the cutters they like best. That was a first, and it worked pretty well to help me achieve a good and fair mix of their favorite cookie shapes. Then I made a huge batch of dough and left it to chill overnight. Pretty satisfying for a Friday night after work when I was mostly wanting to crash on the couch. When I eventually got there to watch some mindless TV and nod off, I was feeling like a pretty spiffy holiday momma. I had a jump on the thing, right?
Wrong. Baking the cookies took most of the next day. I felt like I might never be done rolling and cutting that giant glob of dough, but it eventually happened at around 2 PM. Whoa. In my working mom mind, this cookie thing was supposed to be a great weekend MORNING thing. You know, the kind of thing a mom can enjoy in her pajamas- mug of steamy coffee in hand, gazing adoringly at creative offspring, and musing over the possibilities for the free afternoon ahead. I had fallen victim to my usual working mom fatal error: fantasy projections of weekend time.
What happened to that great jump I had on this thing? It slipped through my fingers like sand as I eventually came to realize this was to become my whole Saturday. The kids, tired of waiting for me to get on with making the various royal icings and set up the table with sprinkles, etc., took to their sleds, peeking in every half hour to ask, "Mom, are we ready yet?" Sigh. As I rolled out the dough for the 20th tray of cookies (still in my pajamas), I experienced two epiphanies: 1. Making a giant glob of dough will not only mean having a giant mound of cookies, it will also mean a giant glob of your time and 2. Making the icings and setting up the table the night before would have been a hell of a lot more of a "jump" on the thing. Duh. This is what comes of Friday night post-work brainstorms. Lesson learned...sorta.
When I finally got around to those icings, I was delighted to discover that our pantry contained only leftover Easter food colorings. Oh joy. It will suffice to say, one can go quietly mad trying to create festive Christmas colored icings out of such stuff. In essence, it was an ill-timed art and science lesson. When the kids got all the snow gear off and sat down for our "fun holiday tradition", I saw them eyeing the stuff quickly and explained the deal. They were great, but by the time I sat down with them, my inner voice was coaxing me to remember to refrain from profanity and muster the appropriate enthusiasm instead.
So yeah, not one of the easy, joyful years for this one. But, the cookies mostly didn't burn and tasted fine, and after putting on some holiday tunes and ignoring the messy kitchen, I looked up to appreciate the four of us sitting around the table. It was 3:45 and nobody cared that mom was in pajamas with flour in her hair. Everyone had a cookie, a paintbrush dipped in a bunch of odd Eastery Christmas goo, and a look of concentration. Soon announcements began. "Finished!" and we stopped to admire each other's work, steal each other's ideas, and giggle over silly faces on cookie gnomes and ninjas. And without me even noticing, the stress I was feeling about time and messes and food coloring began to melt away. Even with Eastery goo, we made some pretty damn festive cookies. Go, team!
All the perfection we see and all the pressure we feel during the holidays tends to meddle in traditions. In the thick of it, it's too easy to forget what the holidays are all about. I'll never be able to live up to the moms who get the Christmas shopping done early, the moms who get the wrapping done early, the moms who are perfectly fit and coiffed, the moms with the perfectly stocked pantries, the brilliant moms, or the moms who make it all look so easy. I'm the mom who can sometimes make some stuff look easy. The mom who can sometimes be neatly coiffed. The mom who knows some stuff worth knowing. And mostly, I'm the mom in the T-shirt, sweatshirt, flannel, or pajamas who's a little slapped together and a little disheveled, but always meaning well. For all my faults and lateness, I'm still the mom passing on the traditions my mom passed to me.
And the cookies were gobbled up. And the kids said they had fun. I eventually got out of those pajamas and into snowshoes that weekend (though I'm still not that fit). And after work the following Monday, I picked up the kids from school and they asked me if they could decorate some more cookies. I enthusiastically replied, "Of course!" (like a really together, cool mom)....because I had already placed all the plain leftover cookies in the freezer and picked up real food colorings. So, tomorrow when we do it all again, I can be the coiffed, dressed, make it all look effortless mom. Plus, I'm on vacation! So, viva tradition and cheers to moms! Eat the cookies, wear whatever, and be merry wherever you are.
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