The gift of the magi.

I’ve been sitting on this O. Henry-esque story for a year.  Obviously last Christmas was lacking for our family.  For all of the reasons. One bright spot was having Matthew back at home.  Even though his work schedule, and Paul’s work schedule were not lining up for lots of quality brother time, or over all family time it was nice to have everyone around.

I tried, but could get no commitment from the boys on helping me decorate the house.  Paul assured me that probably no one was decorating because it just didn’t feel like christmas.  Matthew said he was working so much all he wanted to do was rest.  When I suggested maybe a holiday movie, I got shot down again.  Ok fine.

Then about a week before Christmas the schedules aligned and both boys were off on the same day.  They decided to go do some holiday shopping together away from prying parental eyes.  I suggested to Kathleen that clearly they were choosing that option to avoid spending time with me.  She suggested I stop pouting and over myself.  

As the day approached, Matthew shared with Kathleen and I that he knew Paul was not really feeling the Christmas spirit, and that was not like his brother.   His plan for their day together was just to really go and do it up, and do the fun holiday things to really cheer his brother up, and that was really the best gift he could give to his brother.  Oh, my heart!  I just wanted to grab him and hug him, but he already thinks I am a weirdo so I refrained.

Paul works overnight so I had to go pick him up the next morning and as we were on the way home, he shared that he was looking forward to spending some quality bro time with Matthew.  I agreed that it sounded like a good idea.  Then he said, you know Matthew has had a really hard year.  My plan for today is just to really have a good time, and do all the fun holiday stuff with him, to try and put him in the holiday mood.

Someday’s I might be Santa, and other days I’m the grinch.  And, yet, however, every single day I am blessed to be the father of those boys.

Zuzu’s petals y’all, Zuzu’s petals.

It’s a hanukkah miracle

Do you ever have that dream where you send out a work email to over 4000 people and you are feeling so accomplished and pleased with how the email turned out, and then after you hit send you realize, to your horror, that you sent it out with the absolute wrong prices?  No? No one has that nightmare? Just me? 

Turns out it wasn't just a nightmare.  Last week I sent an email for Dedicated, my sister’s bakery, to highlight the holiday menu, and to announce that this year the bakery will be featuring gluten free sufganiyot, which are a jelly filled hanukkah donut.  They are not difficult to make, per say, but the gluten free aspect is tricky, plus the bakery does not have a fryer and is not built to accommodate a fryer according to safety codes.  So not only are these sufganiyot gluten free and jelly filled, but they are baked, and yet, they still come out light and golden brown crisp.  They are amazing.  

Which was the point when I sent out the email  And, let me be the first to admit, I am notorious for sending out information and not including the pricing.  This time however, I knew the pricing, Kat and I had researched it,and discussed it, and price analyzed the ingredients,and comparison shopped both in and out of the local market.  I knew the prices like I know my own name.  So I threw them in there at the last minute, and boom sent that email off.

It was literally less than a minute from when I got sent confirmation to when the first reply came into the message box.  A customer was excited about the sufganiyot, but was confused about the pricing. If they were $1.95 for one then the $23 something price for a half dozen hardly made sense?    Then another email came in asking for pricing clarification.  Then another, and then another.  Let me tell you, the sinking feeling in my stomach when I realized I sent the email out with just completely made up, wrong prices.  The singles are $4.95 and half dozen for $27.30.  Absolutely not what I sent out.  

It was 11pm when I realized with absolute clarity what I had done.  Immediately I texted my sister Jen, “hey are you still awake?”  No answer.  So then I sent a follow up text, “I may have made a small mistake on the email”  Then I waited.  And brainstormed, and shared with my beloved wife Kathleen how badly I had messed up.  She assured me that it is not that big of a deal.  Mistakes happen,just come up with a solution.  So then I brainstormed solutions.  Everything from telling Jen she should fire me, to a completely overblown apology promotion that included public humiliation.  Plus everything in between.  When Jen finally answered me back at 7:30am I still had not slept and was in a full blown panic.  

I tentatively shared my solution plan, that if people who wanted to order the sufganiyot came in and paid the real price and told the baristas that “Judson is an idiot” we would give them a free seasonal drink. Jen suggested we give away a piece of the gingerbread because it is delicious and she really wants to promote that.  She also put the kibosh on letting customers say I was an idiot.  Together we settled on “mistakes make great lessons”.  So I sent out an Oops so sorry email with the correct prices and the new offer.  Then I sat back and waited.

I was certain, given my past employment experiences that I was about to get hit with tons of angry emails.  Then I waited some more.  Then a little while longer.  Then the emails started.  Except… they were not angry emails.  Customers that I have never met, that I would not recognize on the street,took the time to send emails to me saying:

        “Don't be so hard on yourself. We all make errors and the fact that you own it is fantastic. Thanks for having such a wonderful bakery and have a happy holiday!”

      

        “No worries. Stuff happens. I did the math, and it didn’t add up. (Who said there’d be math on this diet anyway?!) Looking forward to tasting the sufganiyot — at the prices listed below. Take good care, and keep up the great baking!”

            

        “Very cute way to handle the error. With everything digitized it’s easy for mistakes that involve large numbers to happen. No worries. We have all been there at some point. Wishing you, family and your business a wonderful holiday season! We love your products and appreciate the work and artistry you bring to (and how you serve) our community. Happy Holidays!”

Listen, I am not crying. You are crying.  I have allergies or something. 

I am a professional, I am used to dealing with the uncomfortable customers, and the complicated issues.  I have perfected the absolutely polite, but borderline snarky apology email and I know when not to send it.  And I can honestly say that never, ever, in the 20 plus years I have been doing this, I have never been on the receiving end of such kindness and genuine polite responses to what was absolutely my mistake.  And those were just the first 3 responses that came in.  4000 plus customers got the email with the wrong information, and then the correction email, and not one single one person emailed and demanded that we honor the incorrect prices.

My take away from all of this is that there are still kind hearted understanding people in the universe, and I absolutely love that.  The other take away might be something less open hearted and people embracing that has to do with the indoor tanning world.  Mistakes make good lessons.

Prepare A Way

Today was a good day.  I feel like lots got accomplished here at home.  Matthew and I power cleaned the living/dining room at the house.  Now before anyone gets overly excited; it's clean, but not spotless.  There is still some clutter, but most of the clutter was relocated to another room where some sorting will be going on. Hopefully.  Stay tuned for more on that.  It is entirely likely that 10 months from now I will think back and decide I cursed myself by predicting that sorting was going to happen.

This sort of cleaning has to happen right? Because in order to decorate for Christmas you need to clean things and put away the fall decorations and wipe the dust fuzzies off the mantle and bookshelves. That is certainly why I did it.  Last christmas I made a bet with my nephew Christian about who would get their christmas tree decorated first, and not only did he totally beat me, but I never actually got around to getting the tree out, or the clutter put away. I managed to decorate the mantel, and hang stockings, (more on that later). Careful cropping of the photo I took made it look magazine worthy, but it was just the mantel, nothing else. If I am honest I think it is possible that the buffet table in the dining area was still decorated from Christmas 2020.  

All of that to say, I did the preparation part today.  I mean it isn’t perfect, but it has been done.  Certainly there is a parallel or something to the bigger christmas. Christmas with a capital C.  Whether it is your faith in Christ, your belief in the spirit of the season, the magic of santa, or just the kindness of your fellow person.  You need to make room for it.  Maybe clean out the cobwebs? Relocate some of the other issues,or minor irks and irritations, make peace with the ghosts of Christmas past, maybe not permanently, but just for the season, so that if there is some blessing coming your way, maybe you will have room for it?

stardate 12.19.2020

Today’s blog entry is from my Aunt Pat Myles.  She is the oldest of my Dad’s siblings.  She is the matriarch of a wonderful family of four children and so many grandchildren and great grandchildren.  She is a kind and lovely person.  I am very thankful she took the time to share this with me.  

A Christmas Memory 

During World War II , my Granddad Kinkade worked at the Malden (MO) Air Base.

There was a shortage of many things, including sugar, chocolate, and some other things which were rationed. Each family received a book of ration stamps that were used to allow purchases of those items.  Sometimes items were not available even though a family might have ration stamps for them.

Since my Granddad worked at the Air Base he had commissary privileges. Things were not rationed at the commissary.

I must have been 7 or 8 years old and it was Christmas Day.  At least three of the Kinkade brothers and their families had gathered at our Grandparents’ home.  I remember my Granddad getting everyone to come into the living room and he had a bag of gifts.  I think he must have felt like Santa that year.

I don’t know how much he was paid at the Air Base, I think he worked as a janitor and a repairman.  He must have spent most of at least two pay checks to buy Christmas gifts for everyone in the family.

The gifts were not wrapped but he started with the children and gave each of us a Hershey bar.  We were so excited!

Then he gave Grandmother and each of the daughters in law a pair of silk stockings.  Silk stockings were not available at all in clothing stores; but he could buy them at the commissary.

Then he had cigars for each of his sons.

I think I am probably the last one in the Kinkade family who remembers that Christmas.  I am 84 years old and I think all of the grandchildren who would have been old enough to remember that special Christmas will be celebrating in heaven this year.

Because of this special Christmas gift HERSHEY BARS are still the best chocolate ever.  Maybe because in my mind it represents 

stardate 12.18.2020

Today's entry comes courtesy of my Dad.   Of all the things 2020 has brought us, who would have predicted that my Dad would join facebook, let alone write for the blog? And yet, here we are.

Disclaimer Alert! I've  never written a blog before. I know Judson expected a Christmas blog featuring him as my no.1 son, which he is numerically. LOL However this blog also features his siblings; Jennifer, Juliet, and Ben.

I like blogs with themes like favorite Christmases, memorable Christmases,etc. The theme of this blog might be Jerry and kids Christmases.

The commonality of Christmases for my adult life has largely been enjoying Christmas with kids. Initially there was Judson and Jennifer to focus on at Christmas then Juliet and Ben came along. Later after Judson and Jennifer had moved, Juliet and Ben were my Christmas companions for a few more years. Now that they have moved on with their lives, I alternate between spending Christmas with one or more of them. Christmas means kids to me!

I have memories of stuffing stocking, wrapping gifts, trimming trees in different homes, in different states, in the city, on the ranch; sometimes with lots of gifts sometimes  not so much, but always filled with excitement, fun, food and loving family and friends. 

I grew up in a family that celebrated  Christmas with immediate  and extended family at  times, friends, food, fun, and gifts. It was always exciting no matter our circumstances; partially because we celebrated Christ's  birth and partially because our parents loved to celebrate  Christmas  as a family. I've  tried celebrating Christmas  in other ways over the years but nothing was as personally fulfilling. So, my model of Christmas is celebrating  with kids.

It hasn't  always been easy to celebrate with my kids at Christmas.  There were many years I would be swamped with work at the hospital during the holidays. I was on-call the week before 

Christmas  many years and sometimes  got home just before the kids woke up on Christmas  morning. There were years I was a single parent and coordinated Christmas with the kids moms. I remember one year coming home from being on call at 3:00 am determined to finish wrapping last minute presents and falling asleep under the tree.

I have a fond memory  of cutting a tree with an axe and pulling it over the snow horseback on our ranch, my all-time  favorite tree, kept it up a month. 

Most of all I remember happy kid's faces, Santa's little helpers wrapping and hiding presents from one another until Christmas  morning, kids helping make Christmas cookies and my favorite,  Christmas breakfast.

Like my dad, I've  always been a big believer  in Santa Claus; leaving cookies and milk, hearing reindeer on the roof, telling the kids Santa came while they were sleeping( which created sleeping problems  for Ben especially), etc.

Going to Christmas eve church services, singing carols, listening to Elvis have all been traditions we practiced.

I remember gift giving. I don't remember gifts. What I do remember and cherish is the love we shared, the love each one communicated in their unique ways, the love we felt and affirmed for each other, the love we now share as adult's 

Now that I'm  retired I look forward to spending Christmas  with my kids and grandkids. Each of the kids have developed  their own unique styles of celebrating  Christmas. Judson and Kathleen celebrate with an annual social event with half of OKC, Jennifer decorates her home and bakery with beautiful seasonal decorations, Juliet and Becca create a memorable  feast each year while Ben loves sharing Christmas  with Zaylan. 

So, for me this is what it's all about, whether we share it in person or by zoom this year, we will celebrate it. Merry Christmas everybody! 

stardate 12.17.2020

Today’s entry comes from my Aunt Joy Roberts.  For those of you not related to me, she is my Dad’s second oldest sister.  What can I say about my Aunt Joy? She was well named.  She smiles easily and often and has a lovely singing voice.  She has done many things in her life but most prominently she has led the music in hundreds of churches in her lifetime.  Perhaps most worth mentioning for my New Mexico friends is that for a season when I was a child her husband Dale Roberts was pastor of the tiny Glorieta Baptist church just outside the conference center there and Joy led the music.  I have so many memories of my Aunt Joy, but today we are focusing on the memory she shared.

 

The year we couldn't afford a Christmas tree.  

 

In 1962, Dale was In the Army stationed in Christmas tree town USA (Shelton, Washington). Shelton is the present day home of a 32’ Santa that was originally built for the 1962 world fair.  They are known for their rich timber heritage, and hosting annual christmas festivities.  

 

One morning one of the  Army wives and I went into Shelton to the laundromat.  There were 11 families living in the same Army housing community.  Dale had the highest rank so we made more money than the other families, but not much more. In this county if you were caught with a tree that was not tagged by the forest dept. you could be  fined or even jailed.  On our way to town at 6 am  we were blocked on the highway by a bundle of tagged, 11 Christmas trees.   Every family had a tree [free] for Christmas.

 

She and I struggled to lift those trees and tie them on the trunk lid of my MGA sports car, but we managed. It was fabulous. God provided.

Not my Aunt's actual car, but a 1960 MGA sports car. Can you imagine 11 trees tied to the hood?

stardate 12.14.2020

Today we are going to hear from Sue Fox Akins.  Sue & Becky were my mom's best friends for years.  This is a special story about the beginning of that special friendship. 

How Sue and Becky met the Jan Kinkades and spent their first Christmas in Tucson

      July 1989:  Sue and Becky come to Tucson on a scouting trip to see if we'd like the heat and move from Washington DC.  It was HOT!!  We had heard of Jan through our friend Kansas who was living in Tucson.  We checked in at the hotel they had chosen and the clerk said "just a minute, I have something for you".  He bent down and came up with a sign that said "Welcome Home" and a jar full of little desert flowers.  Later, we drove by the 1st Street house just as Jan was coming over from school.  Complete with purple hair and chili earrings, she invited us in for a cocktail which consisted of Emergen-C and juice.  She said that if we were gonna live here we needed to learn about Emergen-C.  Then she said she knew where there was a party with a band playing out in the desert at somebody's house ... and the rest is history.       

      OK, so it's September 1989 (yes,we bought a  house on that July scouting trip) and we're finally here to stay.  December rolls around and we are looking forward to our first Christmas in the warm climate of the Tucson desert, but we have the flu!  You all know it, that achey all over just want to sleep kinda flu.  We have missed the Christmas eve after church spinach enchilada and empanada fest at Jan's.  Christmas day we got up briefly and in our PJ's go out in the desert behind our house where we spread a tarp on the ground and open presents with the cactus patiently watching.  We smiled and went back to bed.  Sometimes the things that at the time seem uneventful make the greatest memories.

(Later that winter, we awoke to 4" of snow on the ground!  We freaked out!  We had moved here to escape snow.  It wasn't until we got to work and coworkers told us how unusual it was.  They were right.  30 years later and I've never seen that much snow here again.)

stardate 12.12.2020

 

It’s a wonderful life.

Merry Christmas Webbers Falls! Merry Christmas Davey and Sloan!  

The Frank Kafka classic holiday movie tells the story of a man who contemplates the true meaning of christmas while slowly changing into a cockroach. Apparently he is from a small town in Oklahoma. 

And ZuZu’s petals!

Yeah I don’t even know what that means, maybe a nod to little shop of horrors?

As I am led to believe many people are fans of the genre bending holiday classic about Wonderful Living.  It is in black and white, so it is extra creepy at the holidays.  I think that movie is the first one where someone gives a lady in white a ride home and she disappears so they go knock on the front door and are told, “she’s been dead 20 years!”

No? Have I pulled a Javi and mashed up every movie I have ever seen? Quite possibly.  It happens.  I may have been sampling eggnog in preparation for the party we are not having next weekend.

I did want to talk about the real George Bailey in my life.  Someone who continually puts other people first, who is kind, considerate and thoughtful.  Someone whose love language is giving people gifts, and also helping people.  My son Paul is certainly the George Bailey in my circle.  2020 has been, well it has been 2020 for everyone.  Yet, somehow, in the midst of everything, my oldest son has been in the process of growing up. As is typical of Paul, he has done it quietly, without too much fuss or drama.  He works hard at his job.  I joke that when he started at Lowe’s they asked him what department he wanted to work in, and he said he had been working at ace hardware for 2 years and knew a great deal about hardware and tools.  They told him that was great, and they assigned him to electrical.  I joke, but it is true.  His first week in electrical someone told him if he makes a mistake, someone will probably get electrocuted and die.  So he has been learning about all things electrical, via youtube videos, and books, and asking questions.  I am really proud of him.

When he isn’t at work, he’s assumed a great deal of responsibility at home, after the recent ice storm took down the tree that hangs over our driveway, he and his buddy Chris used a chainsaw and a tree saw and took down all the branches and piled them up in the yard.  He did this voluntarily, without anyone asking or even saying anything about it.  He said, “I live here, I don’t mind helping out. Besides what would it look like if my Mama and Papa were out there with a chainsaw?”

In addition to being responsible at home, he looks out for his grandparents.  He replaces their air filters regularly, and changes light bulbs for them, and a few months ago he replaced their dishwasher, because the one they had was 15 years old.  He got a great deal on a display model and then he and a buddy installed it.  When they thanked him, he said it wasn’t that big of a deal.  He paid for a dishwasher out of his own money and then said “It was no big deal.”

A friend posted on facebook this weekend that there is nothing better than when someone brings you a warm blanket when you are drifting off to sleep.  It reminded me of the years that as a father I would check the boys and make sure they were covered up and resting peacefully before they went to bed.  I don’t get that chance much anymore because the boys are usually not asleep when I am ready for bed, if they are even home.  Paul is a restless sleeper, he always has been, when he was a little guy we would often find that he had moved to a different bed, or a different room in the night while others slept.  Paul still wakes up in the night and roams the house, and more than once I have caught him taking Matthew’s glasses off his sleeping face, adding a blanket to a sleeping Markese, refreshing the cat’s water bowl, generally quietly going through the house checking on the people he cares about.

I had asked him about this in the past, and he swears he learned it from my Dad.  He says whenever we go and visit, in the night grandpa Jerry walks through the house and checks on everyone before he goes to bed.  I have to admit it is true, and that it is not a bad example for him to follow. I mean you could do worse if you're looking for a role model. 

My other boys are growing up too.  Sometimes it is a loud, uncomfortable process, or one that generates lots of attention. Tonight I want to celebrate the boy who is growing up quietly, in the background, without lots of attention, and doing it in a way that makes me so very proud.

stardate 12.5.2020

Five Shiny Things!

Yesterday I wrote about my nephew Christian, who is probably my favorite little 9 year old nugget in the world. See this little elf face right here? I just want to squish it!  When I took Matthew to Tucson I got to spend a few days with Jen’s family and I really enjoyed spending time with Christian.  He has such a big personality for such a small person.  While I was there he asked if I knew if any of the stores had eggnog yet?  I told him I wasn’t sure as it was still October, but that I would look if I happened to be in a store.  He reminded me that eggnog is his favorite.  Seriously, that boy loves eggnog. 

I did happen to be in the store the following day (getting supplies for the bakery) and I noticed they had eggnog and pumpkin eggnog.  So I grabbed a jug of each.  We taste tested them a few days later and we agreed the pumpkin was not as good as the original, but that the pumpkin one was not bad.  Rumors that he used one or both on his breakfast cereal that week can not be confirmed.  Honestly, I am sworn to secrecy.  

On thanksgiving he used his mom’s phone to text me a new joke, “what do you get when you cross Hot chocolate with eggnog? Hot Nog!”   Since then he has been thinking further on the subject of Hot Nog and convinced someone to make it for him.  Wednesday night he called to tell me that his Mom was going to put Hot Nog on the menu at her bakery.  He encouraged me to try it.  He insisted that I would love it.  Everyone here at the house thought it would be way too sweet,  But Christian swears it is yummy.

So a few nights ago after dinner I made Hot Nog for the family.  I did some research, and as much as I would like to give credit to the little nugget for inventing this on his own, it is already a thing.  Most of the recipes I saw online recommended using a mixture of milk and eggnog so that it's not so rich.  I opted to use half eggnog and half chocolate milk, (which we have a surplus of).  I used a dark chocolate powdered cocoa mix, and used 2 tablespoons to 6oz of the chocolate milk/eggnog mixture.  I added marshmallows, although I think marshmallow fluff sprinkled with crushed candy canes might have been better.  

The verdict?  I liked it.  I may have been the only one in the house that did.  Do you think my niblings could be right?  Maybe I am Santa?

stardate 12.4.2020

Day Four Day Four!

My sister Jenni’s kids think I am Santa Claus.  I mean, as much as any 9, 14, & 16yer olds will admit to believing in Santa.  I choose to believe this is because they have good memories of past christmas activities shared with my family; christmas cookie day in 2006, the christmas parade in Denver in 2011, the nerf war of christmas day in 2016, their christmas in Oklahoma in 2018, and so many, many gingerbread houses with cousins.  Perhaps they think I am Santa because clearly with the all the christmas kitchen magicking Kathleen might be Mrs. Claus?  And anyone who suggests it is my girth and current unshaven status is getting coal in their stocking… er I mean is off the party list forever!

Last year I mentioned the big ornament exchange? Jenni and her kids were in on that,  Even the big nugget unexpectedly took part.  Additionally, Jen’s youngest son Christian has figured out that he and I share a love of eggnog.  Further Santa evidence in his book!  

In January, right after christmas, as Pier One was having its big closing down closeout I managed to snag some christmas ornaments for them at clearance prices.  Then in typical fashion I set them aside and didn’t mail them.  In October, when I went with Matthew in to Tucson I took the ornaments along to give to the niblings.  When they got them, Naomi and Christian exchanged knowing nods.  And allegedly, Naomi has told all the employees at Jen’s bakery that I was Santa.  

It is a lot of pressure.  I always deny it, and Christian agrees that the fact that I do not wear red really seems to support my argument.  Although everyone is still certain that Kathleen is Mrs. Claus. Still, when I was in Tucson I thought I was making some progress on the whole, “I am not Santa, just a really cool uncle” front.  That is, until laundry day.  With Jen’s permission I had washed and dried the few changes of clothes I brought with me.  The following morning I grabbed what I needed from the dryer and got dressed and ran out to the bakery, leaving my laundry in the dryer.  Jenni got home before I did and took my laundry out and folded it for me.  Christian and Naomi noticed that there were several pair of plaid boxers.  

See?  He really is Santa!  He has christmas boxers even though it is October!  

Ho Ho OH NO!

stardate 12.3.2020

Here we are with day three!  I am trying to shift the sadness to the back burner.  I don't want everyone thinking I am depressed all the time.  I mean, yes, I am depressed, but that doesn’t mean my mood is dark and solemn all the time.  I have my moments. Truly.

Just today, for example...  I left the house to run some errands, (from the safety of my car, with my mask on, using the drive through windows.  I had the radio on, and the local radio station was playing happy Christmas tunes.  Since I had no one in the car with me to tell me to change the station, I was listening and driving through neighborhoods, watching as people turned their holiday lights on.

After completing my errands I drove around a bit longer, looking at the lights, and thinking thoughts, like, why the Victoria building never seems to decorate for the holidays, and what a beautiful party event location it could potentially be.  I made an extra stop at Braum’s for eggnog because my nephew Christian had a recipe for me to try.  

I was on my way home, feeling warm and cheery and light, as I passed through the Plaza district. All the holiday lights were on, and people were milling about.  In front of one of the restaurants there was a large person dressed entirely in crimson and white, surrounded by 4 or 5 children.  I wasn’t close enough to get a good look but I thought that was really sweet for someone to be dressed as Santa entertaining kids as their families waited on restaurant take away.  I almost, ALMOST, teared up thinking about what that might mean to those children who are struggling to adapt to mask wearing and social distancing and virtual learning.  I do not admit to being moved by how wonderful it was that even in this difficult year there was Christmas magic for children.

It was absolutely not those warm feelings that motivated me to roll my window down as I approached the group, and it was certainly not me who issued a loud and boisterous “merry christmas” as I drove past,  No sooner as the word were out of my mouth, and the adult clad in crimson turned their head did I realize that it wasn’t a person dressed as Santa, it was a blonde woman wearing OU sooner sweatpants and a red and white hoodie.  Those were not random children she was entertaining but probably her own children and the looks on their faces were not the happy looks of children preoccupied with sugarplums and toys.  

So yeah, I just mistook a mom in sweats for Santa, in front of her kids,  Yikes!  I am pretty sure I made someone’s naughty list.

Day Six

When do you hang your Christmas stockings? Do you hang them as soon as you decorate for Christmas? Do you hang them only on Christmas Eve? Do you have stockings for your pets? Do you omit family members who won’t be there on Christmas morning or just the ones on the naughty list?

A better question might be where do you hang them? I know that tradition says from the mantle, over the fireplace. Does it surprise anyone that more years than not we find other places to hang them. Not doing Santa frees up some of that traditional space. We’ve hung them on bedroom doors, from curtain rods,  on stair rails, backs of chairs... Why do we have stockings if we don’t do Santa? That’s a valid question. Kathleen says it is because she didn’t know how to fit into my secular Christmas world. Ha!

Last year we defied our tradition (or conformed to everyone else’s tradition) and hung stockings on the fireplace. I admit that I left these hanging up for much much longer than I should have. It made me smile every single time I looked at them, so I left them up until Kathleen couldn’t stand it any more.

What’s so special about these stockings? Well they are not the ones Kat cross stitched when we were newlyweds, they aren’t the ones she made in ‘93 or ‘95, or the needlepoint ones great aunt Becky made the boys. The ones we hung last year were simple tan and cream stockings Kat got off amazon for like $20 for 10.  Why so many? My sister Jenni and her three kids were here for Christmas, plus my family of 4 + our bonus son. I just figured matching stockings for everyone would be fun. Plus the neutral colors matched my beach house Christmas theme. 

I hadn’t planned on decorating them, but then I had the younger kids at the house a few days before Christmas while Jenni and Kathleen were at the store and everyone was absolutely dying from boredom, because it was soooo boring at my house. So I busted out some colored sharpies and let the kids write their names and decorate the cuffs. First it was just Christian, Naomi, and Paul (because he’s a good sport). However before long Matthew, Keenan, and even the Bonus Son had grabbed some markers and were personalizing their stockings.  Getting those three to stop video gaming and do anything family related can be next to impossible! It wasn’t the most complicated craft, or the most detailed but for almost 20 minutes I had all the children acting like children together, and it made me so happy. 

So, could there be prettier stockings? Sure. Would I trade these for anything? Absolutely not!  I love those kids so very much, and I absolutely loved having them here, laughing and being a family. Do me a favor? Do something together with your family if you have the chance.

The Sweet Smell of Christmas - Day Nine

Something Sweet

Yesterday I mentioned the Corner Bakery experience with my sister and her kids. To be fair, and lest you think it was all inappropriate all the time, we did have a very sweet experience there. It was busy after the Light Parade, but we managed to secure a table. Then Jenni and I went to the counter to order for our families. I ordered 3 hot chocolates, a lemon square, a pumpkin gingerbread mini bundt cake, a peppermint brownie, and a raspberry crumble. I figured this way there was plenty to share. Jenni ordered hot chocolate for her family, a molten hot chocolate mini bundt cake and cookies & cream whoopee pies. I think it’s cute how she thinks her kids are still small enough to share deserts with their parents.

When the food came to the table (after the inappropriate bathroom experience) Keenan immediately announced he didn’t want a cookies & cream whoopee pie, he wanted a peppermint brownie! And Naomi did NOT want to share a desert, and looked offended that anyone would suggest it. I assured everyone that we had plenty of deserts and that we would all share, (much to Paul’s disappointment as he had already laid claim to the lemon square). Keenan suggested we all take a bite and then pass the dessert around the table. So we did.

The plates made two circles around the table with giggling and comments about how this was yummy or that was yummy. The second time the peppermint brownie got to Naomi she announced “No more passing, this is what I want!” then she curled her left arm protectively around her plate to fend off any invading forks. Now Naomi may be a Johnson, but that move is pure Kinkade, my cousins and siblings all learned it in defense of my Granddad and my children and their cousins learned it in defense of my dad.

So the dessert passing ended with Naomi getting the peppermint brownie, Paul with the lemon square, Matthew with the pumpkin gingerbread cake, Jenni got the molten chocolate cake, and I got the raspberry crumble. Keenan wound up with the whoopee pie that he did not want, so he shared the pumpkin gingerbread with Matthew, and the chocolate cake with his mom. Naomi was so right when she said “We have the best family ever!”

The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree - Day 20

How do you make room for Christmas? Do you clean off the mantle? Maybe move pictures from atop the piano? Do you rearrange furniture to make room for the tree? How do you make room for Christmas in your life?

I am not sure about anyone else, but my life is very full. I work full time and then some. The boys’ schedules keep me busy. I try and keep it a secret but I also go work out a few times a week. None of this gives me a lot of spare time for things like making cookies, decorating trees, or making gingerbread houses. If I don’t have time for the smaller things like that, how do I make time for the bigger Christmas things? How do I make room for Hope? Peace? Joy? Love? If this season is supposed to be about honoring Christ’s birth how do I make room for that?

I heard a sermon once where the preacher equated preparing for Christ’s birth to preparing your home for the holiday season. There was a whole analogy of clearing out the living room so you can bring in the biggest tree and place it in the picture window in the front of the house so that it decorates both the inside, and also can be seen from outside the windows. It wasn’t a bad sermon, and I understand where he was trying to go, so I am choosing to ignore some obvious weakness of the analogy, as well as the whole, “did I really just hear a sermon about a Christmas tree?”

The boys and I had to move a trunk we use as an end table. We had to bring the tree and decorations up from the basement. In terms of actual rearranging the house that isn’t a very big commitment. The bigger commitment was the time it took to get the decorations together, and the time commitment to get the boys to agree to decorate the tree with me. How does that fit the analogy? Believe me there has been little Peace in my house this holiday season. If I struggle to carve out time to hang a garland how do I carve out time for Hope? If I failed to get it together to hang lights on the house, how much more likely am I to find the time for Joy? When people drive by my house, or come for a visit, I want them to see a beautifully decorated home, but people live here, and it definitely isn’t always a shiny inviting page from a holiday home magazine. I want people to look at my life and family and see Love, but again, I am human, and certainly flawed.

If I fail at reorganizing my life for these giant important themes of the advent season, can you blame me for failing to find time for silliness like gingerbread houses, or Christmas caroling? Except that somehow I do find time for some of the silliness. The boys and I did get the tree decorated. We watched the Charlie Brown special. We made time for a light parade with my sister and her kids. Maybe if I haven’t carved out a big place for Hope, Peace, Joy or Love, and if I myself am not a glowing example of those aspects, maybe it is enough that there are moments of these in my life.

Last night Matthew and his mama fell asleep on the couch cuddled up under blankets and a cat, and that was Peace. Every time my Paul and my Matthew do the Christmas dance, that is Joy. When Kat shares that she stopped on her way home to give food to homeless people, that is Hope. And, this feeling I have for these crazy, silly, fascinating group of people that make up my family, that is Love.

So maybe the analogy of cleaning your house to display the shining Christmas tree of perfection doesn’t work for me. Maybe a better analogy of preparing for Christmas is like pouring milk into a bowl of cereal. The bowl seems full before the milk, but there is still room to add it, and instead of displacing the cereal, or having to remove the cereal to make room for the milk, the milk flows around and fits into the available space. So maybe the important parts of Christmas are flowing around the other parts of my life and filling in the spaces? I’d like to believe that is so.

2017.8 Wassail to You!

Like many churches, our church has a traditional Christmas eve service, and we also a time before the service affectionately called a ‘Christmas sampler’ where church members bring cookies or candies from home to share and the church provides coffee and warm wassail (pay attention that is important).  

Now the very first time we visited the church it was Easter, but the second time we visited, with Kathleen’s parents, was Christmas eve. As is my habit I carefully selected festive attire for both boys.  If I remember correctly Matthew was 3 and Paul was 6 and Matthew wore navy blue pants with an oxford blue dress shirt and a blue and green sweater vest, (the pants and shirt were the ones Paul wore to my sister Jennifer’s wedding weekend, the sweater vest was a Christmas concession).  Paul wore black cargo pants, and an oxford blue dress shirt with an orange and navy blue sweater, (hand-me-down pre-loved from his cousin Baby Scott). 

Cute Picture but not of the years I mentioned.

Now all this fashion talk aside, we were there maybe 15 minute, Matthew had 2 cookies, and then spilled the hot wassail on his lap.  I quickly got him in the bathroom, out of the pants and got cool water on it to prevent a burn, and once we knew he was ok, I bundled him up, pants less in my coat and took him home and changed his clothes.  This time he wore navy corduroy pants and a red turtleneck.  We made it back just in time for the church service.

By the following year we were attending regularly, and looking forward to Christmas eve, and Matthew was looking forward to the Christmas cookies he felt he had missed out on because of the whole hot wassail accident. Christmas Eve came, and again, as is my nature I dressed the boys festively.  Matthew wore green slacks, a green shirt and a blue cardigan sweater vest (that he did not like, but that Paul had loved when it fit him).  There was some good natured joking that I should pack a change of clothes for Matthew, ha-ha. But surely he wouldn’t make the same blunder two years in a row?

Nope, 15 minutes in, one cookie eaten and then a lapful of hot wassail.

I asked my Matthew about this last night, and he had this to add—According to him, anyone who has ever been to our church on a Christmas eve knows, it is not Christmas if you do not have a blistered and burned mouth and throat from wassail that is way hotter that it has any right to be.  Who needs to drink something that hot?  Coffee is not that hot, Tea is not that hot.  Why does wassail have to be served at a temperature hotter than the surface of the sun? No one knows.  But it always is.

Matthew said the reason he spilled both years is the same.  He ate a cookie, took a sip of hot wassail and then, “OH NO! FIRE! FIRE IN MY MOUTH!!! AHHH!!! SO HOT! PANIC!” followed by the loss of control in his hands and feet, causing him to stumble and let go of his cup of lava. Then “Wait, What? NO NO NO! MY PANTS ARE ON FIRE! MY LEG! MY LEG! ITS BURNING! I HAVE HOT WASSAIL LAVA ON MY SKIN!!!!!”

His version of the memory had me crying, literal tears of laughter. You know what they say, from the mouth of babes…

***disclaimer, this post in no way is meant as a slight to David Swenson, the former church chef who is rightly adored, or a slight to his loyal volunteers, it is just some serious hot wassail is all. 

Day Eleven 2016

Since 2011 I have asked the boys to help out and write a blog entry for me.  So far I have been less than successful getting a response.  UNTIL NOW... Here is my Matthew's contribution.

Year Of Firsts

Writing this I realized; I haven't actually written for this blog before. I've been recorded for it. I've been photographed for it. I've been quoted, and I have been the topic.  But I've never actually written anything for it yet. So this can be the year of firsts. For me, anyway.

It's the first year I'm writing something for the blog. It's the first year I don't want it to be Christmas yet. I'm sure you can think of why, (too much heartache). It's the first year I only asked for two things for Christmas. It's the first year I had to take midterms. It's the first year I haven't been able to help nearly as much as I wanted, (broken hand). Year of firsts for me.

It's also the year my father told me to 'liberate' an ornament #OrnamentLiberationFront.  I have been told that it's actually considered 'theft' if you attempt to liberate an ornament off of a tree in Walmart or Buy For LeSS. I'm fairly certain it's only theft if you get caught. However, I have not liberated anymore ornaments. That I will admit too, that is.

Although, I will admit that my family might be slightly insane at times. More so, when the year is coming near to an end. And this is something I've recently noticed. Just this year actually. All of these reasons make this year my year of firsts.

Day Seven 2016

Today was the last day of school before Christmas Break for the boys.  I am off work this week to get ready for the party.   Paul had an appointment at the chiropractor today after school.  So I picked up both boys and took them to the appointment.  In years past the week before the party, (also known as party week) has been highly anticipated, and the boys have come running out school EAGER to start on party prep.  Not so this year.

I tried to engage them in the car with a discussion about the menu that Kat an I had worked on at lunch.  I asked if there were any last minute additions, or things that were really necessary menu items.  They both were noncommittal “I’m sure its fine”.  “It is all good Papa.”  Finally I said “at lunch when Mama and I talked about the menu, at first I read her the list from my phone, then I put my phone away so we could discuss the menu without interruption…”  Matthew replied “that comment does not go unappreciated”, but still waited to put down his phone. 

To be fair, I don’t really need the input from them, but it is more fun when they are engaged.  When we got to the chiropractor Matthew wanted to wait in the car, but I dragged him into the office to wait with me.  While inside, I regaled him with many of my clever ideas and suggestions.  First I posited that we could serenade his brother, and the other patients at the chiro clinic today with Christmas carols.  I suggested we stand outside the rooms and sing loudly so they could hear.  I started to warm up in the waiting area singing that year round classic “La La La Singing.”  My Matthew tried to crawl under his chair.

Then I pointed out the under decorated Christmas tree in the waiting area.  Matthew tried to hush me, but I pointed out that I wasn’t talking that loud, and that the people who decorated the tree clearly knew it was under decorated.  A fact is a fact, regardless of whether or not anyone points it out.  That lead to conversation about trees falling in forests and bears and whether or not that makes a thing true.   

We then segued into a conversation about whether or not the ornaments on that tree were sad or not.   I assured him that they were, particularly because they were red, and red is one of the decoration themes for this year’s party.  #Allegedly.  I suggested that perhaps one of the ornaments might like to accompany us to our party, in Matthew’s pocket.  When he stood up, he awkwardly bumped the tree, which was really placed too close to his chair, and one of the ornaments fell off the tree.  He caught it. 

I told him this was a sign that that was the ornament that was most unhappy on that under decorated tree.  It seemed only right that that sad ornament be liberated.  And so the #OrnamentLiberationFront was born.  Honestly I am not sure why I didn’t think of this sooner.  We are already in talks to consider the happiness of several other trees we have access to have seen this year.

Kathleen suggests I let law enforcement everyone know I fully plan to return this to the chiropractor office on 12/26/2016.

Christmas Roundup.

How did you celebrate this year? Did you get all the gifts that you wanted?  I hope Santa was good to you.  But, no matter how good your Christmas was, I doubt very seriously that it was as good a haul as my Matthew got this year.  In the last few years, as a family, we have downscaled the gift giving, in 2013 we tried the ‘something they want, something they need, something to wear, and something they need’.  It certainly calms things down.

This year, that is not exactly what happened.  Well, we tried anyway.  The Monday after the party, while Paul was at work, (pay attention to that, it is important) Kat, Matthew and I went and did our Christmas shopping, getting most of the gifts we had planned on getting.  We had the traditional pajamas, new pants the boys can wear to school, underwear, books, and let Matthew choose games for the Xbox for Paul and him.  I thought we had it covered, and really felt good that there would not be that last minute Christmas eve shopping that I am kind of known for.

Tuesday night we went to see the Nutcracker, but if you are playing along at home, you know that.  Wednesday night my co-workers and I worked late, in anticipation of being off work for several days.

Thursday was Christmas Eve, and everyone was off work.  Kat got up early and she and Paul left to run a few errands.  I figured she needed to grab the usual pan dulce for Christmas morning, and some supplies for our Christmas eve enchiladas, and I know Paul wanted to do some Christmas shopping for his brother. I was half right.

Paul did his Christmas shopping at Sam’s, FYE, Half Price Books, and Dollar Tree. He spent what amounts to an exorbitant amount on gifts.  The best part of his having a job is how generous it allowed him to be.  And he was generous in the extreme.  When Kat and Paul made it home, with barely enough time to get it together to make it to church on time, the SUV was loaded down with gifts.  Think Santa’s sleigh. In fact, when Kat and Paul got home and were unloading the gifts, one of them was so large it was impossible to hide.

Matthew had asked for a refrigerator, like a dorm sized one for his room.  Kat and I had reservations because I was pretty sure that meant we would never see Matthew unless he needed laundry.  Paul had no such reservations and not only did he gift Matthew with the deluxe model dorm refrigerator, he stocked it with Matthew’s favorite energy drinks and Dr. Pepper.  These gifts Matthew received before we left for church.  If that had been all Paul gave him, Matthew would have been over the moon.

After we got home from Christmas eve dinner with the Grandparents, Paul shut himself away in his bedroom and wrapped presents, for over an hour.  I am pretty sure he loved wrapping all those gifts. 

Christmas morning Matthew opened two different styles of headphones, and a wireless speaker that has a lightening ball on top, books, and a game for the Xbox. Last minute Paul changed his mind and gave me the $25 gift card for half price book that he had purchased for Matthew.  Kathleen got a screw driver with exchangeable heads.

Paul had to work Christmas night, and as soon as he went to work, Matthew started in on his Christmas surprise, something he had planned out before he knew Paul was showering him in gifts.  First, Matthew cleaned Paul’s room. He did an excellent job (the benefits of a slight touch of OCD). Then he carefully gift wrapped all the furniture in Paul’s room; the bed, the dresser, the TV, the Xbox, the pillows, the Xbox controller and the club chair.  It looked amazing.  I wasn’t sure how Paul was going to react when he got home, I was concerned that if he had a rough night he would not be appreciative of what Matthew had done.  I tried to prepare Matthew but he assured me it would be no big deal, that if Paul wanted he could sleep in Matthew’s bed and that he, Matthew, could sleep on the couch.

I shouldn’t have doubted, Paul was pleasantly surprised, but he was happy when he got home, he couldn’t stop smiling and giggling.  He swore he was never going to unwrap anything.  I persuaded him to at least unwrap the bed and the pillows to start with.  Currently only the dresser and the club chair are still wrapped, but he is holding out as long as he can.

The best gift I received that day was seeing how generous and loving my boys are with each other.  Proud Papa here.