Motherhood & More: Hoping kids remember more than Christmas magic misses*

I think I may have single handedly ruined the magicalness of Christmas for my kids.

I mean, there’s only so much enchantment I can create, you know? As much as I would love to present my children with a Pinterest Christmas, I gave up on that attempt the year my daughter destroyed the homemade applesauce cinnamon ornaments just because.

They have an advent calendar with a daily treat (mostly cheap chocolate because I am not an idiot) but we had to move that surprise to the afternoon because someone (my son) wasn’t sleeping past 4:30 a.m. He was too excited because of all the anticipation, and I was too tired because of all the early rising.

But sometimes I forget to have their treat out when they get home from school. They run expectedly, eyes bright hoping for their tiny snowman chocolate. I have to inform them that no, their mother wasn’t prepared. Again. But hold on a minute and I’ll get it for you. I guess that ruins the surprise, or something.

We also acquired an Elf on the Shelf a few years ago as a family gift, though we probably would have gotten him ourselves because everyone has to have an elf now, right?

Guess how happy I am about that little nuisance? Not only does he absolutely have to be in a different spot every night, but parents now are creating ridiculous scenarios where their elf is squirting toothpaste all over the bathroom because he’s just a silly, naughty thing. Excuse me, but I have enough junk to pick up after my children. Sorry, kids. I’m not cleaning up after the elf, too. You will just have to make do with our boring Mr. Christmas.

I also don’t understand how people leave their elves in places low enough for kids to reach. My kids know they’re not supposed to touch him. However my daughter will look you right in the eye as you tell her not to touch and poke the poor guy’s leg. That’s because no one is allowed to tell her what not to do, obviously.

And now my son has started writing to our elf. Usually he tells me when he’s written a letter and asks that I make sure the elf knows about it because we have a special bond, Mr. Christmas and I. But sometimes my son doesn’t tell me and is greatly disappointed when there isn’t a response. That means, of course, that now I have to search for a letter every night, just in case.

As much as I complain, I actually wish I were better at all of this than I am. I’d love to be the type of mom who has everything organized enough to fill every day of the Christmas season with magic. I’m having a difficult enough time keeping up with all I’m supposed to be doing that isn’t Christmas related, and many times I drop the ball. But I hope they don’t remember all the times the elf didn’t respond to a letter, or how we still didn’t put up the outside Christmas lights.

Maybe, instead, they’ll remember cookies we made, the tree we decorated, the Christmas music and hot chocolate, and the holiday shows we watched snuggled up together and offer a bit of forgiveness to their imperfect Mama.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on December 23, 2015.

Motherhood and More: Christmas anticipation fosters sleepless nights*

I think I might finally be a grown up.

I mean, I know it took long enough.  But now that I’m 33 ½ and have two young children of my own, I think it is time to call myself an adult. 

It didn’t happen when I turned 18, or 21, or when I got married.  And it didn’t even happen when I became a mother. No, I became an adult when I started sleeping on Christmas Eve instead of having insomnia caused by the excitement and anticipation of Christmas morning.

There’s so much build up, you know?  There are weeks spent planning and decorating and baking and shopping and wrapping and, in my case, knitting.  All of the preparation leads to this climactic night, this waiting for the accumulation of all the hard work to pay off.

And by all that I mean presents.  It’s hard to sleep the night before you know you’ll be receiving presents.  My family was always good about making the holiday about family and helping others, but still, there were presents.  And I have spent many a Christmas Eve night tossing and turning and willing myself to drift off because that would only make the morning come faster.

But alas, it never was easy.  I tried counting and meditative breathing.  I tried squeezing my eyes shut as tight as I could.  I tried putting the covers over my head.  Sleep was not easily achieved, no matter what I did.  I couldn’t tame the excitement, the butterflies in my stomach.  And when I did finally drift off, it was only for a few hours.  I would always, always wake up at an unreasonable hour and run downstairs to check out the tree.  And then I would have to go back up to my room and wait for my sister to wake up – my sister who could sleep through the apocalypse easily and deeply.  She never lost sleep on Christmas Eve, and would happily stay in bed past 10 a.m., which was ludicrous.  This was mostly because I couldn’t touch anything under the tree until I drug her out of bed, so Christmas morning usually began with a fight.  However it was easily resolved through the joy and good behavior of the season.

The past few years have been a bit more sleep-filled, however.  I’ve gone to bed and fallen asleep, slept the whole night, and only woken up when I heard my 6-year-old son sneaking down the steps at an entirely unreasonable hour.

And he will yell at his sister to get up while I drag myself awake, wiping my eyes, dreaming of coffee.  Of course he can’t touch anything until everyone is there, including his sister who isn’t quite as fast as he is to jump out of bed.

And I know he has lain awake at night, tossing and turning, and willing himself to sleep.  And maybe he’s woken up and gone downstairs to check on things sometime in the night, sometimes even before Santa has arrived.  I know he’s listened to hear Santa’s sleigh, trying to determine if that noise was a reindeer on the roof or just the wind. 

And he will probably be like this for years to come, even after he learns to drive or graduates high school.  Or maybe even after he gets married. 

Because it is exciting, you know?  The happiness and family and presents and time spent together celebrating creates something a bit magical. 

And who wants to sleep through that?

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on Dec. 24, 2014.

And I have how many days left until they go back to school?

I am currently 56 percent zombie, 41 percent coffee and the rest cracker candy.

That's because my sweet 4-year-old Adele had a minor freakout at 2 in the morning in the form of hysterical screaming about spiders in her bed.  (Spiders this time, not snakes.)  And so I lay with her for awhile to calm her down, and I noticed that she sounded horribly congested and wouldn't stop coughing.  I got her some cough medicine and hippie decongestant salve and returned to my own bed, hoping to quickly return to sleep.  I knew it was wishful thinking because I am self aware, but still.  I wanted to believe it was possible.

But then, of course, Adele began fake crying because she's not supposed to get out of bed and that was her way to get our attention.  She's not supposed to get out of bed because for the past few weeks (WEEKS) she has come downstairs in the middle of the night to our bed.  We let her stay for a bit then one of us (me) will carry her back to her own bed.  And neither parent goes back to sleep.

So instead of coming downstairs after we told her not to she put her head right by her door and fake cried until I made it back upstairs.  I gave up at that point.

I stayed in her bed until around 5.  I think I slept some.  A bit.  But not nearly enough.  And today I needed to run to the store for jewelry supplies because I had two necklace orders and desperately needed chains even though I was sure I'd bought an obscene amount the last time I stocked up and how did I go through so many so fast?  (Obviously, this is a good problem to have.  Just not today.)

So the kids and I went out, me partially awake and Adele majorly tired and possibly on the verge of a meltdown.  But luckily that didn't show up until we were waiting in line at the bookstore to get a drink and I refused to buy her a cookie.  We were at the bookstore because I didn't have the energy to disagree with my son who really, really wanted to go there.  That's also how we ended up with a chapter book.  Well, that and I'm a sucker for books and it's pretty awesome that he's reading chapter books and I'm ok with encouraging it.

And maybe I would have been okay with buying a cookie for the kids if they hadn't spent the entire weekend eating nothing but sugar.  We had three parties to go to on Saturday which included cupcakes and gingerbread house and cookie decorating and hot chocolate and chocolate covered pretzels and - and - and ...

And on Sunday we had my parents' Christmas party where the rest of us ate lasagna but my two unnatural children don't actually like lasagna and so survived on Pez.

So I thought I'd attempt to get them back on some sort of halfway-healthy-type of food plan, which didn't include overpriced cookies from the bookstore cafe.  Adele flipped out so we left that line and went in the book-buying line, which actually was longer than the over-priced coffee and cookie line.  And she wouldn't stop flipping out so I put her Barbie book back and just bought Sebastian's book because he was behaving like a civilized human being.

And then she screamed in the car when she realized I hadn't bought her book.

Thems the breaks, kid.

We went home and ate lunch and Adele took a nap, which means that she was exceptionally tired because she didn't even protest me forcing her in her room all that much.  I honestly think she was a little relieved.

I probably should have taken a nap myself but I had three baskets of laundry to fold and Gilmore Girls to marathon and so I just made another pot of coffee and had a few more bites of cracker candy an considered myself sustained.

Lest you think I was completely neglecting my older child, he was around, and perfectly behaved because he spent his afternoon watching youtube videos of a boy opening toys and playing with them.  Now, I don't necessarily understand the concept of evantube, but it keeps him occupied.

Good Lord, is it only the first day of Christmas break?

Spreading the Christmas cheer one animal sacrifice at a time

I maybe forgot I had a blog.

Okay - I didn't forget.  I spend every morning for the last little bit (when was the last time I actually wrote something?) planning to write, telling myself to write, even writing posts in my head.

But I seem to have forgotten to actually write.

But I'm here now!  At least for today, and really, that's all I can commit to because time and Christmas and work and all that.

My I Love Kentucky necklaces have become popular all of the sudden, with mucho orders coming in. (Maybe it was because of the giveaway?) Every time I see a new order I grin and tell my husband how excited I am because SOMEONE WANTS TO BUY SOMETHING I MADE!  You have no idea how happy it makes me.  I am goofy with joy.  There'as also been some interest in my new personalized motherhood necklace.  I wear mine all the time, myself,with my kids' initials stamped on the little hearts.  My son likes to see it on me and comments on how I like to keep him close to my heart.  I sure do, buddy.

So what with all the grinning and the celebrating people buying things and the making I am a bit booked up, you know?

And then, on top of that I decided last minute - as per my usual schedule - that I would hand-knit some presents for people.  Every year I say no - I'm not going to put myself through it because it's ridiculous to stress myself out as much as I do and also I have a million other things that require my attention.  And then I change my mind very close to Christmas because handknits are awesome and I like to spread happiness in the form of wool.  And that leaves me scrambling and up late and sore-wristed from all the knitting.  I think it will be manageable this year, though.  I've chosen a quick pattern and everyone gets the same thing.  So maybe it won't be so bad?

Do I say that every year?  I feel like I say that every year.

We'll see.

I also have lots of baking/food making to get done.  And birthday parties to go to and Christmas parties and then there's my annual animal sacrifice for snow on Christmas.  (I'm kidding. No animals were harmed in the writing of this blog post, or in the hopes of creating snow.)

This time of year is fantastic, isn't it?  I've honestly been a bit grumpy about the whole thing, trying to make myself feel more Christmas cheer than I do.  But I think maybe my standards are too high.  It's okay for me not to be ebullient over everything Christmas related.  I am all grown up now, even though I don't always feel like it.  Of course the season isn't going to be the same as it was when I was a kid so I should probably try to stop focusing on why I don't feel the way I feel like I should feel.  You feel me?

Instead, now I can create all that magic for my little monsters.  I can make the days exciting and full of all that stuff that made me so Christmasy in days past.

Which is a pretty great gig, if you can get it.

Motherhood and More: It's finally here*

It’s Christmas again, and much like the rest of the adults, I’m wondering where in the world the year has
gone. It seems like just last week when I was celebrating New Year 2013 by going to bed at 10:30 p.m.

But to my children, this Christmas took ages and ages to get here, even with the daily countdown my son has been doing for the past few weeks.

“Thirteen more days until Christmas! Nine more days! Five more days!”

It doesn’t help that we have a pretty awesome wooden Advent Calendar from the kids’ great-grandparents in Germany that every year is stocked with chocolate or small gifts. My son has lost a lot of sleep by waking up at 5 a.m. every morning wanting to see what he’s gotten. We force him to go back to bed but the stubborn kid won’t sleep.

I can’t blame him, really. He got that aspect of his personality from me. I’m an early riser, and on Christmas morning I am a super-ridiculously-early riser. My sister has fond memories of me yelling at her to wake up already; Santa Claus came and Mom and Dad won’t let me open my presents until after you get up! They did that on purpose, of course, because they knew how hard it is to wake her up and so they’d get a few extra minutes of sleep while I tried to shove my sister out of bed.

Smart parents.

My son is just as excited about celebrations and holidays as I am, which is good because traditions mean a lot in our family.

And Christmas, to me, is lasagna and fried chicken, and early mornings and singing carols. It’s cookies and eggnog and entirely too many sweets. It’s waiting until after dinner to open presents at the family gatherings, which I suspect is just to torture children.

And it’s also crab cakes at my in-laws and shrimp salad and wine and German cookies.

It’s my husband complaining about the fact that I make him do stocking stuffers, and then putting the biggest gift in the stocking when everyone knows that’s the place for random junk and chocolate.

It’s attempting to discuss with my kids the true meaning of the season.

It’s laughter and family and hoping for snow. It’s knitting last-minute gifts that will probably not be finished in time, and maybe, possibly trying to sew something. It’s wanting to make handmade ornaments with the kids but not getting around to it because of all of the knitting.

It’s coffee and pie and cinnamon rolls and probably more coffee because I’ve stayed up too late trying to finish what needs finishing. It’s waiting until after Christmas Eve at my in-laws to wrap any of the kids’ gifts, which means that sleep is a luxury I don’t get as I will be woken up at 4:30 in the morning by an excited little boy and a little girl who is just starting to feel all the anticipation.

It’s staring at Christmas lights in silence.

It’s extra long hugs and taking time to reflect on what means the most in my life.

Merry Christmas. It took ages and ages to get here.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on December 25, 2013.  

Homemade Friday: GAAAAAAHHH!!

I do not have time to be writing this post.  I am in the midst of knitting things for other people like a scarf and a hat and baby chucks and I have all the yarn for a sweater for Christopher that has a small chance of being finished in time for his birthday in January, plus there's that sweater I am (was?) working on for myself, and a multitude of socks.  And I am still under the delusion that I will have time to sew something for both my kids for Christmas.

Stop laughing at me.

So to compensate for this not really being a post - here are some pictures of what I've been working on:

Knit!  Chucks!

Scarves!  Lots and lots of scarves!

And one and 1/10th of a pair of socks for Sebastian!

Thanksgiving is a time for dodging barf. Also for dislocated elbow joints.

Hello.  How was your Thanksgiving holiday?  I hope it was nice and full of good food and cheer and whatnot.

Mine was.  Partially.  I mean, there was all the good food and family and fun.  But there was also barfing and dislocated bones.  And then more barfing.

Wednesday we went to my parents' house to help my mom bake pies.  It was really fun, the kids mostly behaved and helped roll out the crust and Adele stuck her fingers in it over and over and over again, but Nana just fixed the holes and went on.

On Thursday we went to visit Chris' parents for a little bit, then some other friends, then on to my parents' house for the huge, delicious meal.

And then on Friday Adele barfed.  So I left her and went shopping with my mom and niece.

(Kidding!  I mean, I did go shopping but there was much hand wringing and doubt and worry involved in my decision to leave.)

She barfed again while I was gone.  Chris sent me a picture of her holding a bowl of barf and said that she was better at barfing into a bowl than she is at peeing on the potty. 

And then because she felt bad that I missed it she barfed again for me when I got home.  And then we put up out Christmas tree.  It was fun and only a little bit argument-inducing as Adele wasn't putting the ornaments on how Sebastian wanted her to.  Apparently 10 ornaments on one part of a string of lights is not the way to do it.

On Saturday there was no barfing, and I finished decorating.  And then it was Adele's naptime and when I was trying to get her to go upstairs she did that thing where she jellyfished her entire body and I attempted to pull her upstairs by her arms because that's the only thing I could hold on to and then she cried because I dislocated her elbow joint because I am a horrible, horrible mother.  And then I wanted to barf.

It's apparently called Nursemaid's elbow and isn't that uncommon in kids.  I would have felt worse except a friend of mine, who is a wonderfully calm and patient mother, did the same thing to her daughter a few years ago.

I didn't really know what had happened, honestly.  She just kept crying and holding her arm and wouldn't let me move it.  So we went to CareFirst and waited and the doctor came in and pushed the bone back in place and she screamed and cried.  He said she should start using it again by the time the x-rays were done.  And the x-rays were horrible and awful because I had to hold her arm down while she screamed because SHE WAS IN PAIN.  And then she was pissed and still wasn't moving her arm so the doctor ordered more x-rays just in case because she was pointing to her wrist and saying that was were her arm hurt.  So this time they lay her down on the x-ray table and I held her down again while she screamed and then she fell asleep because she was exhausted from all the screaming.  Plus, naptime.

The doctor came back in and said all the bones looked fine, and he told me to wake her up to see if she could move her arm or if he'd have to try again to put the joint back in place.  But I couldn't get her to wake up and we moved her arm all around and she didn't even flinch so we left.

Sleepy baby girl in the doctor's office.

She woke up before I got her in the car and said her arm was all better and she was back to her crazy self, albeit a milder version.

And then yesterday she was calm in the morning, which should have been an indication that as soon as I put her down for a nap (without the jellyfish or dislocated elbow joint, thankyouverymuch) she would barf all over herself and her blankets.  I cleaned her and her bed up then tucked her in and she went right to sleep.  She woke up calm and ate dinner and hasn't barfed since.  So, fingers crossed, we're done with all that.

This was right before she barfed all over everything. 

Also - I am a horrible, horrible mother.

Also again, I am apparently trying to see how many times I can incorporate the word 'barf' into one post. 

I'm sorry for the wordiness and all of the pictures but I have a lot to tell you

So I guess December is a slow month for blogging, at least for me.

I feel like it's been forever since I've written an actual post, but I don't know where to start.

With knitting?  Let's start with knitting.  Or rather, my epic failure to knit the plethora of woolens that I planned on.  Apparently I am somewhat delusional regarding my abilities and also time in general as I was under the impression that I could knit five pairs of gloves, two children’s sweaters, two men’s hats, one pair of mittens and a shawl in three weeks.

Spoiler alert: I couldn’t.  And so I kind of gave up.  I realized that I could spend the Christmas holiday time super, ridiculously stressed out of my mind, or just mildly stressed out of my mind.  I chose mildly.  This was after I accidently knit two left gloves for someone, not even realizing it until I was almost finished, and after I’d already had to tear the knitting out once because I’d accidentally knit a glove for a 7 foot giant with giant hands instead of a normal teenager with normal teenage hands.

So.  No gloves.  Maybe by Valentine’s Day?

Christmas morning was awesome and magical and everything it’s supposed to be.  Part of the reason for this was because I wrapped almost everything ahead of time so I didn’t have to stay up until 2:30 a.m. setting up presents.  However, since I am still a child in my heart I was too excited to sleep so I ended up awake all night anyway.  Chris had to stop Sebastian before he came downstairs so I could get out of bed and see him see what Santa brought for the first time.  My husband is incredibly thoughtful.  I’m not sure how long this will last, however, because at some point Sebastian will do what all kids do and sneak down at 3 in the morning under the guise of having to ‘pee’ but really just so he can see the tree and all of its Santa-infused glory, then go back to bed to not-sleep until it’s late enough to get up and by that I mean 4:30.

And then, since we were staying home for dinner and just having the four of us, I decided to cook more food for Christmas dinner than anyone would ever want, including armies and Italian families.  (I can say that because I’m Italian.  And we like to eat.  Mangia! Mangia!)  But by the time it was all finished everyone was exhausted so Chris and I ate at the table while the children ate in the living room watching television.  Because we are awesome parents.

After that we were pretty much on speed until the end of last weekend as my brother-in-law and his now wife got married on the 29^th.  On Friday we dropped the kids off with my mom and Chris drove me to Louisville for a bridesmaid luncheon, then nail salon visit where they gave out wine and it’s now my new favorite place to be even though somehow I injured myself on the massage chair.  Chris picked me up there, then we had to race to my mom’s to pick up Sebastian for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner, but we had to sneak so Adele wouldn’t see us because she didn’t feel good and so probably would have screamed for hours if she saw me and wasn’t allowed to go with me.  But we were going to be out late and I didn’t think she would be very good company.

We went home for 30 minutes and dressed in our fancy dress clothes and left again, and getting out of the car I ripped my brand new fancy-pants polka-dot pantyhose on my purse and so spent my time with a run on my knee, getting steadily bigger and bigger, especially when I had to squat down and hug a crying Sebastian when he fell off a horse onto his head.  Don’t worry, it wasn’t a real horse and only gave him a carpet burn/bump.  He’s fine.  And he only got a little grumpy the entire time, both rehearsal and dinner, when I wouldn’t open his new Star Wars Legos he got for being in the wedding.  There were tears. 

The next morning we got up early to make it to the hotel by 10 so I could start getting hair and makeup done with all the ladies.  Guys.  I was airbrushed!  And given fake eyelashes!  I honestly didn’t really want to take them off.  The great thing about the makeup was that even at the end of the night, after six gin and Sprites (Yes SIX.  Open bar.  Don’t judge.) I still looked halfway decent.  And not drunk and tired with numb toes.

I had my mom bring Adele to the Kentucky Derby museum, where the wedding was, so I could just dress there.  I knew she wasn’t feeling well and I knew she wouldn’t last long so I wanted her there as late as possible.  And I still had to chase her around a bit.  She just wanted to ride on the horses and wasn’t too interested in waiting in line to walk down an aisle.  (Damn horses!)  I practically drug her down.  She was supposed to walk with Sebastian but I didn’t have faith in her ability to make it to the front without having a firm grip on her wrist.  After the wedding my mom took the kids home with her.  I felt a little bad because I knew that Sebastian would have had so much fun, but Adele was so sick and cranky and there wasn’t really any other way to handle it.  Plus it gave me a chance to loosen up and relax for once.  (The six G & S helped with that.)

And I had so much fun.  I hung out with people I haven’t seen in a long time.  I made new friends.  I discussed the hotness of my husband with the boyfriend of the brother of one of the groomsmen.  (Read it slow.  Maybe it’ll make sense then.  Or not.)

There was a photo booth and dancing and fake mustaches and pimp hats.  If I could find the pictures Chris and I took in the photo booth I’d show them to you but I think he probably hid them since there was one of us kissing and he was probably afraid I’d post it on the internet.  As if I would do something like that!  (HA!)

I’ve been saying that the wedding is not so much of a wedding as an event.  They spent a lot of time and energy making sure they had the perfect wedding, and they did.  It was gorgeous and well-planned and totally worth the sinus infection I got from standing outside in 20 degree weather getting my picture taken.

At first I thought it was a hangover, but it never went away.  We had to go straight from our hotel Sunday morning to my parent’s house to pick up the kids and celebrate Christmas there, since we hadn’t had time to do it before, and then we had to leave early so we could take the tuxes back, and it turned out that the place wasn’t even open so we couldn’t take them back.  Sunday evening I started feeling really, really sick.  Headache and queasy and just really, really down.  On Monday I woke up and couldn’t really get up.  I lay down on the couch all day and even took a nap, which never, ever happens.  Thankfully Chris jumped in and took over all of the parenting and household duties so I could try to recover.  We were supposed to have a New Years Eve party with friends who also have kids, but I just couldn’t do it.  I felt awful for having to cancel.  But Chris took the kids to see his parents and some family who were in for the wedding so that was good for them. 

And so my continual headache forced me to finally go to the doctor today.  With Adele, my child who refuses to be still.  I chased her all over that damn office.  And back again.  And then back again.    

My oldest child is laying in the floor at my feet begging to get on the computer and play a game so I guess I’ll finally stop telling you my life story. 

Oh, one more thing!  Last night Adele was mad that I put her to bed and so threw her pillow out of her crib then somehow lunged after it and flopped out right onto her head.  On the wood floor.  Guys.  I thought I was going to puke and I keep picturing it over and over again.  She was fine, terrified and probably a little headachey, but fine.  She clung to me for a good while, then still screamed when I put her back into her bed, but thankfully didn’t actually fall out again.

And now you’re all caught up.  Here’s a lot of pictures.  And I mean a lot.

Sleeping bags!

Electric toothbrushes!

Merry Christmas!

Post hair, pre-airbrushing

I can't even!

This is about as un-blurry as I could get. 
She moved around a lot.

On the way to the reception.

Best man speech!

This was late.  Notice my makeup!  IT'S STILL ON.

Bridesmaids and turkey feathers. 

End of the night riding a van back to the hotel.  That's the
groom in the middle and the bride to his left.

I don't even know.  But that's the top of my head.

Motherhood and More: Confessions of a Christmas knitter*

I did it to myself again.

Every year I decide I’m going to make things for Christmas. I alternate making cookies and candy for everyone I’ve ever met in my life with knitting warm, woolen items for everyone I’ve ever met.

I make myself nuts trying to accomplish everything I want to, no matter how idealistic and unlikely to complete I am.

Every year I start out large and plan to make 15 different types of cookies, and let’s not forget the salted caramel pieces, which are delicious, yet if you don’t pay enough attention to them they become caramel rocks instead of soft, chewy candies.

Or I decide that everyone in my family younger than 20 gets hand-knit, colorwork-filled gloves, even though I’ve never actually knit a glove before, but I’ve conquered lace and cables, so how hard can it be?

Answer: not hard, just when you make five pairs it can be a bit time consuming. Kind of like that time I decided to knit four pairs of felted clog slippers even though I had never done that before either. They took days and days to dry and so my sister ended up with a slipper IOU because hers still were wet and stuffed with newspaper. It wouldn’t be Christmas without a knitting IOU. At least for me.

One year, before I fully got the hang of knitting, I knit sweaters for three nieces and a nephew and I’m pretty sure none of them wanted them. Yes, I’m that aunt who gave away knit gifts complete with uneven sleeves and weird yarn discoloration.

Of course, the baby’s sweater wouldn’t even fit over her head, so she doesn’t count. There’s logic in there somewhere. You have to find it yourself.

But I want to make things that people will enjoy. I want everyone to understand that I love the knitting process, and I love them, so I want to put those two things together and create a magical, wonderful, Christmassy, fantastic day filled with scarves with a falling leaves lace pattern or reversible, double-knit hats.

Not everyone understands this, and that’s OK. I’ll keep knitting things that make me happy and giving them away, even to people who don’t want them. And I’ll keep shortening my list as the holidays get closer and I realize that I have some unrealistic expectations regarding my knitting speed and the fact that I have to sleep sometimes and also take care of children who require things such as food and diaper changes and other items that hinder my knitting process.

One good thing about setting a knitting deadline for me that is out of reach — and some would say insane — is that I’ve started knitting in front of my children. I avoided doing that in the past because anytime I am not giving them my undivided attention they do whatever they can to get it, usually something that annoys me and nothing annoys me more when I’m knitting than when a small person takes my ball of yarn and runs away with it, thus unraveling all of the intricate cables I’ve just spent a good while and a fair amount of cursing creating.

So I just didn’t let them see me doing something I enjoyed.  It was for their own good health, really. But I’ve had to do it this holiday season because I sort of convinced myself I actually could finish my knitting list, even though really I wasn’t fooling myself at all. And so I’ve knit. And they’ve seen me. And there have been times when my ball of yarn has been ripped away from me and I’ve had to chase down the culprit. But the more they see me do it, the more used to it they are, and the more they see that Mom is just a crazy knitting lady who shouts out "Just one more row! I’ll get you your milk if you just let me finish one more row!"

I’m OK with that.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on December 26, 2012. 

Reasons I am insane*

*Alternate title: Things I have made in the past two days and things I still have to make sometime before Christmas is over:

In the past two days I have made the following:

1. Cracker Candy (Also known as 'Christmas Crack' at our house.)

2. Homemade salted caramels

3. Pecan pie - with homemade crust

4. Chocolate Chocolate Chip Bacon Cookies

5. Tangy Spiced Brisket from smitten kitchen


Tomorrow I have to make the following:

6. Apple Pie - with homemade crust

7. Homemade Dinner Rolls

8. Homemade chicken tenders

9. Homemade mac & cheese

10. Spinach Artichoke dip

11. Broccoli

I thought I'd possibly make homemade panettone, but I think that's going to have to wait a few days.

And yes, this is a list I created for myself.

Lots of wine will be consumed over the next few days.

Things that made me happy this weekend

1. Homemade Pizza

2. Little boys in suit jackets:

3. Shopping by myself

4. Finally being able to decorate the Christmas tree with my children helping me so I don't have to do it all myself.

5. Crappy Christmas parties with Crappy Christmas Gifts (I brought dental floss).

6. Ugly Sweater contests at Crappy Christmas parties, even though I didn't win.

7. Leaving the house in the evening by myself to hang out with friends I hardly ever get to see, knowing that my kids are in fantastic hands with their father.

8. Friends who get me and get my sense of humor and take the time to make me things they know I will love (Thanks, Lauren!):

9. Pancake Sunday

10. Chris taking the kids to Bernheim Forest for 3 hours Sunday morning to give me time to myself, even though I only used it to clean.

11. Having a clean house

12. Sunday dinner at my parents' house

13. Apple pie

14. Warm weather

15. Kick back bruises from the shotgun.

16. Knowing that when the zombie apocalypse happens I know how to handle a weapon. 

Motherhood and more: The good things of Christmas may come early

I admit it.

I’ve been listening to Christmas music for at least the past three weeks, much to my husband’s irritation. I mean, it’s not like it’s on all the time, and it’s only in the car when he’s not riding with me. But still. He knows and is therefore sufficiently bothered.

And yet, I don’t care.

It’s not like I glossed over or forgot about Thanksgiving. It’s still my second favorite holiday, mainly because there’s almost no preparation you have to do other than food-related and making sure you discuss with your kids what it means to be thankful. And it’s always just so comfortable, you know? A whole day of visiting with family and eating is my idea of a perfect day. There’s no expectation, other than that you show up early to help cut up fruit for the fruit salad or stir the gravy and set the table.

I love it, and this year was no different.

But when radio stations started playing Christmas music after Halloween, I resisted as long as I could. I knew I was supposed to wait, that I was supposed to be perturbed at the early date that people start celebrating the holidays. It’s just that it makes me so happy. It brings back all of the nostalgic memories of growing up when my parent’s would move our giant, heavy heater away from the non-working fireplace so Santa could get into our house, or that time when we had family over and it snowed and was so cold that we went ice skating on the pond. Or when, as a teenager, I played guitar every Christmas Eve Mass, or every Christmas get-together that included too many people in too small of a house, but where no one would change a thing.

And my son is so, so excited about everything this year. He’s trying extra hard to be good, which really isn’t that difficult for him anyway, these days. And he was insistent that we decorate the house this past weekend because it was time. I agreed. And where do you think all of his holiday excitement comes from, anyway?
And so maybe it was for him that I turned the dial to the Christmas station. Or maybe it was for me and the peace and happiness I get when I listen to songs that I’ve listened to every year for as long as I can remember.

I used to be a strong proponent of not losing sight of Thanksgiving, of celebrating one holiday at a time and I still am to an extent. I hate the commercialization of everything and how stores start shoving giant blow-up snowmen at us in mid-October. And I dislike how much shopping happens on Thanksgiving night, when everyone knows you’re supposed to be passed out in a turkey and pie-induced coma on the couch.
But that doesn’t stop me from cranking the sound up when I hear Sting’s version of "I Saw Three Ships," or "O, Holy Night," which never fails to move me.

However, I will never, ever enjoy "I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus."

That’s just good taste.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on November 28, 2012. 

(I also realized I never shared my last Kentucky At Home stories with you.  You can find them here.)

Homemade Friday: Lemon Cheesecake with Gingersnap Crust

I did not take any more pictures other than this because I am a bad blogger.

Yum. 

Seriously.

Yum.

I made this cheesecake for the first time last year as a sort of Christmas gift for my parents, because I know how much they love cheesecake.  It was my first attempt at the non-instant box variety, and I was pleasantly surprised.  The cake looked gorgeous.  Lightly browned on top with nary a crack to be found, which I think is the hardest part of cheesecakes because if they are done in the middle, it usually means that the top will crack.

Now I won’t say that this one was completely done in the middle, but it was close enough to still be delicious.  The crust a little peppery on account of the gingersnaps, and the filling was so delicious that Sebastian and I at much of the leftover bit that wouldn’t fit in the pan uncooked and full of raw eggs. 

Totally worth it.

This year I made one for my in-laws since I found out that Chris’ dad loves cheesecake, too.

Next year maybe I’ll make two so I can have a piece at both Christmas gatherings.  Or maybe three so I can just have one at home for myself.  (I may share with my family.  Maybe.)

You can find the recipe here.  I highly recommend it.  Make sure you use a pan that is a bit too small so you have enough filling to eat to hold you over until the cheesecake is cooked and cooled. 

I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing.

(It appears that once again my post last Friday was cut off after one paragraph.  I've included everything else I wrote, but didn't update links or pictures because I've got a whining child at my feet.  I'll hopefully get that fixed sometime soon.)

Bloggingness is a word because I say it is

Wow.  That was … just … one of the busiest months of my life, and in case you haven’t heard (because it’s not like I tell people all the time or anything) I bought a house while 9 months pregnant.

So that’s saying something.

And I am completely happy to be back to our normal schedule, even though that new normal schedule includes Sebastian waking up at 5 a.m.

Should I repeat that?

5 A.M.

I have no idea what his problem is and why sleep is not on his morning agenda, but there you go.  He will lie quietly for awhile but eventually the kicking of the wall starts.  I don’t know about you but that sound is enough to make me kick the wall myself.  It makes me want to hurl things through windows and punch kittens.  It’s a systematic, rhythmic thumping that means I’ve got to crawl out from under my warm blankets and put on my mom hat.  I would much, much rather he just get out of bed and come downstairs, even if it’s early, than proceed with all that kicking, because it also means that Adele will be awake shortly since can anyone really sleep through that hideous noise?

So.

The holidays.  They were a blur of food and desserts and more sweets and then even more food and maybe some presents (Chris got me potatoes.  Yes, really.  He said it was an Irish Christmas).  There were tantrums and fights and music and lights and more food and even more candy and maybe a few more presents.

We try to keep the gifts for the kids at a minimum.  It’s hard because I want to buy them everything I see that I think they’ll like, but I also want them to not grow up expecting to be handed everything they want whenever they want it.  I know some people like that.  They are not my favorite people. 

However, they did not have an Irish Christmas.  (Apologies to anyone Irish who takes offense to that.  We’re a big fan of potatoes.  And Guinness.  And red hair.  Any other stereotypes I’ve left out?  The Celtic Women?)

I do think that Sebastian has had a little too much Christmas, though, which is another reason I’m happy to see this season go.  His behavior has been a bit challenging, but that’s only increased by the fact that his sister insists on aggravating him.  He will be playing quietly, and the little bugger will toddle up to him and smack him or pull his hair.  Just for kicks.  I honestly thought I had at least another 6 months to a year before I had to deal with the sibling squabbles.  Unfortunately I was wrong.  They fight over toys and my lap and books and they’re father’s attention.  And they are not afraid to get physical.  Adele hits and pulls hair or pinches, but Sebastian is smart.  He won’t hit her but he will turn his back to her and bump her with his butt.  Hard.  Do you know how difficult it is to keep from laughing when your 3 year old butt bumps his little sister?  It’s like, why do I always have to be the adult?  That shit is funny.  And she just yells back at him or smacks him.  And then he bumps her again.  Repeat.

So really, I’m not a mother.  I’m a referee.  Who feeds the players.  And sometimes cleans up after them.

I realize there’s no real point to this post.  I don’t think my bloggingness has returned from vacation yet.

To make up for it, he's a picture of my baby with a wine bottle.  The wine was really good, by the way.  Chris will probably be unhappy with me for posting this, but maybe he shouldn't have bought me potatoes, even if they were fingerling.

Homemade Friday: Bags I slaved over that my children ignore

Two days before Christmas I had the brilliant idea to sew bags for each of the children.  Sebastian loves bags and Adele spends much of her time trying to find a way to get to my purse and pull everything out and dump it on the floor, scatter it with her feet, then chew on it.

So I thought, "Hey! I can sew marginally well.  I'll just make them each bags!"

I cut the fabric out during the afternoon when they were otherwise occupied, probably napping, and ignored all of the baking and cleaning I probably should have been doing instead.

I didn't really measure anything, just cut all the lining, which was leftover linen curtain from a massive hemming job, the same size as the outer material, which was what I had on hand.  I actually wanted to use a different fabric for Adele, but it hadn't been washed yet and I didn't want to wait.

The straps were made out of the same material as the lining, and also weren't measured, just eyeballed and all cut the same size.

I'm still working on figuring out my new
camera, thus the blurry photo.

I sewed everything that night after the kids went to bed, and it only took a couple of hours, thankfully.

Do you recognize Sebastian's material?  Check here.  I promise I won't make him carry the bag and wear the pants together.  (Unless of course he wants to.)

I cut two pieces of outer material for each bag and two pieces of lining, then sewed the sides and bottoms of the outer sections, then the lining.  Then I sewed the straps only on the sides, then turned them right-side-out, which has to be the most irritating part of sewing.  I hate it.  It never works right and usually I end up putting a whole in whatever I'm turning, plus my shirt, with the little turning tool.  Plus it just slows everything down.

The A and S were so Sebastian would know which
side Santa put his presents on, and also that the
kitchen, that he is entirely unimpressed with, is for both kids.

After that fiasco was finished I folded the raw edge of both the bag and the lining and pinned it all together with the straps at the edge of each side.  I will freely admit that I also hate ironing as I'm sewing, and allowed myself to skip the next step, which was supposed to be to iron the seams so as to help with the sewing.  (Sorry, Mom.)  I shouldn't have skipped it because as a result the seams at the top aren't as straight as they're supposed to be, plus the straps migrated as I was sewing some and don't line up like I'd prefer them to. 

I sewed this seam at 3/8 and then just right at the edge to get it to look a bit better.

And I did make myself iron the finished bag since the straps were wonky and looked unfinished.

And after all this hard work, they've both barely noticed the bags.  I only got this picture because I forcibly put the bag on Adele's shoulder.  (But isn't my entirely staged photo adorable?)

I pointed the bag out to Sebastian a couple of days ago and he was just like "Oh.  Okay."  Then he walked away to play with cars or something.

But I don't feel hurt or upset.  I like the idea of something homemade for them under the tree, and will probably continue that tradition every year, be it socks or a sweater, a dress or a pair of hats. 

I have no doubt that one day both children will appreciate my sacrifice of time and energy, plus the multitude of needle pricks I received as a result of sheer clumsiness this year.

Just not yet.

(I have so much stuff to show you guys that we'll probably still be talking about what I've done in the past month in March.)