This picture needs some explaining…Let me back this story up…
When I was a child, Christmas was always a big deal in our home. It was probably the only time that all 5 of us kids got along together in the name of the holy father…
Yes, I said Santa. We had Jesus to contend with 365 days of the year, but it was only once that Santa came to town bearing gifts.
That was if we were good.
Which is why we were good to each other.
What I remembered most of those years as a child was doing things together as a family unit. We picked out our tree together. We wrapped presents together. But more specifically, I loved the baking together.
I remember the kitchen being set up like your typical Ford assembly line. Each station was lined with parchment paper and each child had a task to do from icing to sprinkling to taste testing to make sure that the cookies weren’t poison. Sure my Mom worked us like little slaves elves, but it was fun for us. We all worked as a team and for once, we acted like a nice normal family.
Those memories, I cherish.
I knew that when I had children of my own, that I would carry on this baking tradition since it meant so much to me growing up. Plus, I like eating the cookies fresh out of the oven.
Our first Christmas with Chunky, I was in the throes of PPD. I can’t remember what went on that Christmas… so moving on…
Last year, we baked cookies from pre-made dough and I have no shame in admitting that either. Chunky helped by eating the icing and Shawn created cookies of sin. Sigh, he’s all mine ladies.
Anyhoodles, this year I was super excited to bake since Chunky is at an age where he’s more than just being capable of putting himself in a sugar coma. Most of all though, this is the first year where I feel swept up in the jolliness of the season.
I am so ready to bake the shit out of something.
On Monday, I proclaimed to the household that we were baking cookies and I got these responses.
Husband: That’s nice. Let me know when they’re done
Chunky: I want Elmo. Watch Elmo.
I started mixing the ingredients for the gingerbread cookies to lure the men into the kitchen. When Chunky laid eyes on the pile of dough, he was suddenly happy to help. Shawn however, stayed in the basement watching sports no doubt.
When the first batch was done, I let Chunky taste one just in case they were poison and turns out they were. Chunky spit it back out and said “Momma, dat’s yucky!”
I tasted one and it was glorious. I guess that gingerbread cookies are not a big hit with Chunky. He quickly became disinterested then jumped off his chair and left me alone…
…with all the cookies to decorate by myself.
So I started icing.
Shawn came up to steal some cookies and threw in a “Whew, you made a lot of those. You’re going to decorate them all yourself?”
Apparently, I am you asshole.
I was so angry and sad that no one wanted to help me. All I wanted to do was create memories together as a family. But all I created was this cookie for my husband…
…and this cookie because I am a cripple.
Sigh. I’m baking sugar cookies today so hopefully, the spirit of Father Christmas bites those two both in the ass.
If not, I will lick every single cookie.
Anyhoodles, I wish you all a wonderful and safe Christmas. You all rock mah socks and I am truly blessed that you all keep coming back for the madness. Have a drink or seven on me will ya?! I’ll catch you all after Christmas.
Love you all