Christmas shopping: Is there a lesson in here somewhere?
“Is there a lesson in here somewhere?” I asked the general cacophony yesterday evening. “Are we really teaching you anything about being generous or being giving or how to think of other people? What is this all about?”
You guessed it. We were about to go Christmas shopping. For the past few years we’ve let the kids choose small gifts for each other, though CJ has been too small to really participate. Turns out, he’s still too small. We have a favourite store we go to that the kids call “The Castle Store.” It used to be oriented toward gamers–Dungeons and Dragons figurines and whatnot, but it’s expanded successfully into board games, crafts, puzzles, Lego, Star Wars figures, and some other toys. Walls of puzzles. I love this place. So does CJ, but he really couldn’t think of anyone but himself. Nor could he think past the present moment to Christmas morning.
I want what I want and I want it right now! could have been his motto.
But that was at the store. Back at home, as I attempted to prepare for our shopping venture, there was covetous CJ, but there was also Fooey, recovering from pneumonia, well enough to head back to school, but pretty much pooched by 4pm, and in a generally surly and screamy state, perhaps a sign of improving health, or a sign of being spoiled by a week at home watching movies and being catered to by her loving mother, but really, who cares why? It’s virtually intolerable. The bossy-Fooey-screams send AppleApple into fits of indignant rage, while Albus’s response is to poke rational holes into her (il)logic. Helpful.
Toss in the much-anticipated trip to The Castle Store, and our after-school scenario yesterday resembled nothing more than a miniature civil war battlefield. I remained the voice of calm, but you know, no one’s listening to the voice of calm in the middle of a bloody battle.
Which brought me around to my rhetorical question: “What is this teaching you guys?” Okay, not so rhetorical because I really didn’t know the answer. Still don’t. I was about to give up when Kevin called and said he could come along too (this was planned as a me-and-the-kids outing; short-sighted planning right there). With another parent along, we were able to manage. Plus, aside from CJ wanting everything right now, the other kids turned angelic in the Castle Store aisles as they thought about their siblings, consulted their siblings, and secretly made choices.
So what’s the lesson here? I really really really don’t know. At various points in the venture I would have said it was:
*Don’t take your three-year-old Christmas shopping! (And really, if you have the option, just don’t.)
*Don’t go Christmas shopping, period!
*Materialism sucks!
*And: Can’t we shove the toothpaste back into the tube and everyone will just get a nice big orange in their stocking and that will be plenty?!
But I guess I came around to this:
*Give your older children the opportunity to choose thoughtful gifts for each other. They might surprise you.
Right now I am …
… still buzzing after meeting all of the Anansi staff at their sales rep party in Toronto last night. I was so nervous. So nervous! I put on mascara while Fooey writhed on the floor and screamed in her bossiest voice, “You will not be going to this meeting tonight! They can do the meeting tomorrow! You are not going!” It brought me closer to the reality that, for my little kids at least, this Mommy’s publishing a book thing is a major inconvenience; they really can’t understand what it means to me. Mommy’s publishing a book and she’s not tucking me in tonight! Not: Mommy’s publishing a book, yay for Mommy! I set supper on the table, set the table, and as soon as Kevin walked through the door, peeled two desperately clingy children off my legs and made a run for it.
Then I had a pleasant (not) leisurely (not) drive down the 401. The traffic! Plus, the closer I got to my destination, the more nervous I got. I got so nervous I was having to remind myself to breathe. It’s been awhile since I’ve schmoozed. Thankfully, as soon as I walked through the door, I was in good hands. My former boss from, oh, a decade or more ago, is married to Anansi’s publisher. I think he knew I was nervous. I kind of had the same expression on my face that I had at the beginning of the marathon (but with better hair and a nicer outfit). He got me a glass of wine and took me outside to meet his dogs, and I was soon feeling much better. Just like reaching the 10km mark. Before I knew it, I was cruising.
And I got to meet everybody! I mean, all of these people who have been working with me from afar (not so very afar, but far enough that we’ve never met in person). I got to meet them! I met my editor! It was like meeting an old friend, except I had imagined her looking just a little bit different. I’d imagined everyone differently, come to think of it. Everyone looks different over email and the telephone. It was like meeting the people behind your favourite radio voices. Without even knowing it, you construct these imaginary faces.
Anyway, by 34km or so, I was one happy writer. I’d been fed a lovely dinner. My sister’s red shoes looked great (thanks again, Edna!). Best of all, I wasn’t schmoozing, I was just getting to know people. Hey, I like people! And come to think of it, I like talking too! Not so nerve-wracking after all.
At the end of the evening, I mentioned that I was kicking around for a new challenge this coming year–thinking of a running challenge or something like the 365-day photo challenge–and Sarah, Anansi’s publisher, said (and I paraphrase): “How about publishing your book!? Forget the other challenges. This will be plenty. This year, you’ll launch a book!”
I like that. I might have to go with that.
(Oh, and I got up early for spin class this morning and I was still buzzing … still am … floating on an evening out of the every day.)
(And, no, that photo does not relate. It’s just a purty picture of some berries in the snow in front of our house.)
The week in suppers: enter the root vegetable
**Monday’s menu: Split pea soup in the crockpot. Quick beer bread. Baked squash.
**Because: We have a whole lot of yellow split peas. We also had no bread. Quick breads can save a meal.
**Recipe for Beer Bread: Set oven to 400 degrees. Grease a loaf pan. Whisk together 1 cup whole wheat flour, 1 cup white flour, 1/2 cup large flake oats, 2 tbsp sugar, 2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp baking soda, and 1/2 tsp salt. Add in one freshly opened bottle of beer (any kind!). Fold together until just mixed. Scrape into pan. Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Important: Let cool completely in pan before unmolding and serving. (Why I know this: Hungry children + hurrying to get food on the table = somewhat crumbling very hot beer bread. Still good, however. Made good toast the next morning too).
**Tuesday’s menu: Pasta with pesto. Fiery fried cabbage. Broiled tofu.
**Because: Something for everyone. Except there was still a lot of complaining. Why? Oh why?
**Wednesday’s menu: Sweet potato coconut soup in the crockpot (pictured above). Bread from City Cafe. Cheese.
**Because: So good! Visit here for the recipe. Best use of a yam, ever.
**Random kitchen accomplishment: Made yogurt. Kevin’s been eating a lot of it atop the really good granola, as a bedtime snack. He likes that everything in that bowl is made by me. I like that too.
**Thursday’s menu: Black beans. Baked rice. Tortillas. Cut up winter veggies: carrots, rutabaga, daikon radishes.
**Because: Today was a tough day. But this meal is easy. Popular, quick (just takes advance planning), satisfying. Good conversation around the dinner table.
**Friday’s menu: Pizza night at church.
**Confession: We haven’t gone to church all fall, but when info on pizza night arrived in my inbox, packaged with the promise of gingerbread house decoration, we were in.
**Extra confession: I didn’t even go. Pizza night overlapped with AppleApple’s goalie camp, so I dropped everyone else off, drove AppleApple to the sports complex on the other side of town, and went for a run (our Friday night ritual), while Kevin managed the kids, the pizza, and the gingerbread decoration. Bless him.
Photos for the Christmas letter: the outtakes
Let’s begin by gathering together the joyful participants in this afternoon’s all-family project. Joyful, I said. Joyful participants.
Kevin (silently): What the hell, son? What the hell?
It’s always thrilling to discover new talents in one’s offspring.
Apparently, we have a natural born ham. Please, sir, may I have some more?
CJ acts out another scenario unseen by the rest of us.
Giant robot coming! Must defeat it with laser eyeballs!
I include this just because it’s so supremely awkward. CJ is about to do a runner. I’m, you know, smiling! Fooey’s vogueing. Enough with the jazz hands. And we’re done.
It would be nice to report that the photograph chosen to grace our Christmas letter (yes, we’re going to do a Christmas letter this year!) is far superior than these. It would be nice.
What’s blue and red and makes you wonder: who’s that girl?
This is what my book looks like!!!!!! (Insert full paragraph of exclamation points.)
You can even pre-order it!!!
But this is what it looks like!
(And, no, I don’t know who the girl is, though she does look weirdly like my own AppleApple. The publisher designed the cover, not me.)
Dreamy, dreamy.
This was not the post I began writing this morning. That post started like this:
“Long week. General gloom. Set alarm, rose early. Glad for that.
Snow falling. Cough cough cough from my constant companion.”
And went on in the same vein. Which is true enough. But I’m glad the cover popped into my inbox and interrupted my cranky, restless mind with a splash of colour. And, oh, that dreaming girl. I’d like to just go be her for a little while.