Christmas morning

Ahhh, the letdown. So unavoidable, it's an accepted part of the Christmas experience. I seem to feel it more strongly these days, perhaps because -- since I'm the mom -- I work hard to make Christmas come together. I'm always reminded, on Christmas morning, that you can't make other people happy. Right now it's about 10:15 am and the boys are building their Lego sets. And they're actually pretty happy (although Kid A is distressed that he doesn't have new AAA batteries for his Lego train). But during the opening of the gifts, between about 7:15 and 7:45, there were entirely too many critical comments. I try to let it flow over me, reminding myself that I was like that once upon a time.

I think it's also hard for me because the boys are pretty low-key about gifts. When they get something they like, they don't express their joy, they just throw the gift aside while looking for the next. The low-keyness they get from their father, but Rocket Boy does politely show appreciation. "Oh, that's nice," he says mildly, when he opens something. I try to model an alternate response: "Oh, wow, how cool! Oh, I love it, it's perfect!" Nobody seems interested in following my example. Though, to be fair, some appreciative comments are heard later, after all the gifts are open. "I'm going to munch on some kisses," Kid A announced, tackling the candy cane shaped container that he'd thrown aside earlier. "My blanket!" said Kid B, wrapping himself in navy blue softness and rolling on the ground, long after he actually opened the gift.

A few days ago, when I was busily making more Christmas cookies, I stopped to wonder why on earth I do all the things I do for Christmas. Part of it is of course because it's tradition and I like traditions. I like the way the holidays mark off the months of the year. But another big reason is that because Christmas was an important part of my childhood, my memories of my family (both good and bad) are very strong this time of year. This is especially true when I'm making cookies. I was mixing up sugar cookie dough when I was thinking this, and I could hear my mother's voice so clearly, she might have been in the same room, not dead nearly 11 years. I had left the butter out to soften several hours before, but it hadn't softened, so I used the microwave to soften it -- and of course it got too soft. My mother shook her head at this, so close I could almost touch her.  She and I bantered back and forth as I worked on the dough, discussing the pros and cons of my wooden spoon vs. her metal spoon. We argued about how much flour to use, whether it mattered that I put in twice as much grated orange rind as the recipe called for, and later how thin to roll out the dough. Kid A helped me cut and decorate the cookies, and I tried to explain to him what I was doing and why, so that he would have the same kind of vivid memories of his mom.

I feel like I'm channeling my mother this year, and not necessarily in a good way! She didn't have dementia -- except possibly right at the very end of her life -- just sort of a gradual increase in carelessness. There was a chicken dish she used to make that she could never remember the name of: I think it was "Lazy Day Chicken" (because it was supposedly very easy), but she would call it "Happy Day Chicken," or whatever popped into her mind. As the years progressed, she had more and more trouble with Christmas -- forgetting about presents she'd bought until Christmas morning when she realized they hadn't been unwrapped. I thought I'd never do such a thing, but it's become almost a tradition in itself. I also seem to have had trouble READING this year. I bought the kids shirts at Target, and I chose this one for Kid B, because he likes the show "The Big Bang Theory." Except that, as you can undoubtedly see, it doesn't say "Big Bang," it says "Big Plans"!

Another example: to wrap the flannel sheet sets I got for the twins, we re-used some weird Amazon present sacks that Aunt Nancy had sent gifts to the twins in at some earlier time. "They're perfect," I said to Rocket Boy. "We'll just say the sheets are from Nancy, since her present didn't get here yet." He agreed, and we were careful to put Kid A's sheets in the wrapping addressed to him, and Kid B's sheets in the wrapping addressed to him. Unfortunately, as the kids noticed immediately, the cards actually say "Happy Birthday." And remember, I earn my money (at least partially) as an EDITOR!

I also had a little trouble putting Christmas Eve dinner on the table this year. I know they always say one sign of Alzheimer's is that you can't manage to cook Thanksgiving dinner. I did fine cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year, despite being very ill, but Christmas? Understand that we have a very simple Christmas Eve dinner: a honeybaked ham, which of course is already cooked, rolls (bought, not homemade), a very decadent potato dish, and green beans. So I put the potato dish in the oven at 4:30 (it bakes for 90 minutes), and at about 5:45 I decided that I would like to warm the rolls just before we ate. So I turned the oven down to "Warm" and when the timer for the potato dish rang at 6:00, I opened the oven to put in the rolls, and saw -- the potato dish! which had been cooking along at the "Warm" setting for the past 15 minutes.

Pretty soon they will be carting me away to live in a "Memory Care" facility, possibly in the section reserved for people who used to be editors but have now forgotten how to read. Ah well, it's a good Christmas nonetheless. Have another cup of eggnog and maybe a nap (but not on the printer).

Christmas crunch time

The difference between December 8th, when I last posted, and December 18th (today) is massive. Christmas is seven days away and I have so many things left to do!

OK, don't panic. Let's go down the list and see how bad it is. (It's bad.)

1. Cards. Oh dear. The cards are purchased, the stamps are purchased, the letters are copied (as of today). How many cards are you planning to send out? Around 50. Are any envelopes addressed? Yes, actually, 10. Are any cards written? No. Oh dear.

2. Cookies. Oh dear. How many batches of cookies have you made? Three. Well, three's not bad. How many were you planning to make? Six. Oh. Well, better get busy.

3. Decorations. Oh dear. Now, stop it, it's not that bad. Is the tree up? Yes. Is it decorated? Mostly. What's left? The straw stars and the bald eagle (which goes way at the top, so Rocket Boy has to put it there). Oh, that's nothing, you're almost finished. What else needs to be done? Hang the spray on the porch. Clean the living room again. Make Rocket Boy move the boxes to the garage or back down to the basement. Surely that's doable. Hmm.

4. Gifts. Oh dear. We've physically bought one small thing for each boy and have ordered a couple of little things that might not make it in time. Aunt Barbara's box arrived (and was not stolen by a porch thief). What else needs to be done? ALL THE OTHER SHOPPING. And when are you going to do it? This weekend, I guess, while Rocket Boy takes the twins to a museum or something. Oh dear.

5. Dinners. Have you planned them? Sort of. Have you shopped? No. We always get a Honeybaked ham for Christmas, so we'll have to go pick that up. Maybe on Sunday. But I thought Sunday was a present-shopping day. So it is. Hmm.

It doesn't sound TOO bad, does it? Except maybe the cards. But even those would get done in a flash if I had any time. So what's the problem? Well, I have a job. I only work 4 hours a day, but on the front end there's getting the kids off to school and myself to CU, and on the back end there's getting myself home from CU and picking the kids up from school (and in Kid A's case, driving his carpool twice a week, though Rocket Boy and I alternate doing that). Then there are the meals, and the laundry, and cleaning the kitchen, and feeding cats, and HOMEWORK every day, even this week, and baths, and putting the kids to bed after reading a lot of stories. And blogging when I should be writing cards. OK, enough, I'll go write some cards.

I keep reminding myself that 8 days from now it will all be over and done with, and Rocket Boy and I can relax with a glass of eggnog and watch a mystery DVD from the library. And I'll be pleased to have survived another Christmas. But right now I'm a little stressed.

Holiday concerts and all that jazz

Friday night the twins and I did something really special -- we went to the CU Holiday Festival. This is a big concert involving orchestra, band, and singing groups, always in early December, and always sold out. They've been doing it for 40 years and I've always wanted to go, but somehow never have. Each year since we moved back to Boulder I've asked myself, should we go? And I've answered myself, no, we shouldn't. But this year the twins are playing musical instruments in school (clarinet and trombone). They're a lot more aware of music, and how music is made by different instruments, than they ever were before. And they're 10. Maybe, I thought, just maybe 10 would be old enough.

Of course, I didn't make this decision until all four performances were nearly sold out, but I managed to snag three tickets for Friday night. Rocket Boy agreed to be our chauffeur, and dropped us off on University Avenue, just a short walk from Macky Auditorium, a little after 7 pm. It was frigid, probably in the 20s. The boys were dancing around, full of energy -- too full of energy. I worried.

Our seats were in the second balcony, way way up high, but they were fabulous -- you could see everything. I took just this one picture with my phone. You weren't supposed to take photos after the concert started, but beforehand was OK. The pink and lavender that you can see is not paint, it is light from a projector near us, which Kid A noticed and identified almost immediately. During the show, those pink and purple areas turned different colors, and sometimes pictures or even videos were projected on the side panels.

I sat between the boys, to prevent fights and excessive goofing off. As it was, things got a little tense. At first they were interested, looking for people playing clarinets and trombones. I pointed out the concertmaster and the conductor's entrance. We had brought a small pair of binoculars along to be "opera glasses," and Kid B took control of those and enjoyed looking at the instruments.

But it's a long concert, and they started getting bored, especially Kid A, on my left, especially during slow songs that he didn't recognize. "What song is next?" he'd whisper loudly, but I couldn't read the program because the auditorium was pitch black. "What time is it?" but I couldn't answer that either. "How many songs are left?" "Shhh!" I said. "You shhh," he replied.

I got a break when the orchestra played "Sleigh Ride" and Santa Claus showed up to conduct. I (quietly) pointed out the percussion tricks, like making the sound of horses' hooves, and a whip cracking. "I see it!" Kid A said, too loudly. "It folds up and makes a slap!" "Yes, but shhh," I said. Then we had more slow songs, leading to more inappropriate talking. "Mom, how much is 22 times 8?" I pretended I didn't hear, but did the math in my head. "Mom! How much is 22 times 8?" Oh, for heaven's sake. "A hundred and seventy-six. Now shhh!" (Later he told me he had been counting something he could see in the auditorium that was 22 by 8.)

The last piece was a sing-along, the Hallelujah chorus from Handel's Messiah, which I hadn't sung in years. Kid A put his hands over his ears as I attempted to hit the high notes. I used to be a soprano.

Finally it was over and I called Rocket Boy to come pick us up. As we walked down the hill to Boulder High School, where we had arranged to meet him, Kid B asked if they had been good enough (to earn computer time the next morning). "You were wonderful!" I told him, and I meant it. It was an amazing experience. But I don't think we'll go again for a few more years (like 15 or 20).

Christmas has begun

Yes, here it is all of December 2nd and the Christmas season is in full swing. I went to Michael's today to buy advent candles and the store was packed with Xmas stuff and Xmas-stuff-hunting people. I thought most people looked a little bewildered, not sure what they really wanted or why. I was not tempted by much of anything, though I did buy a cheap fake "garland" to put around my advent candleholder. It is probably very flammable and I will set the house on fire when we light the first advent candle tonight.

Tonight is of course also the first night of Hanukkah, which we also celebrate even though we are not Jewish. I am always a little conflicted about this -- is it cultural appropriation? I tell myself, no, it's cultural appreciation, it's standing in solidarity with the Jewish people especially after the massacre in Pittsburgh.

But the real reason is that I grew up with lots of Jewish friends, and our next-door neighbors always invited us over for a Hanukkah party, and when we lived in Ridgecrest we always drove to LA for my niece's Hanukkah party, and goshdarnit, I like Hanukkah. My kids have some Jewish friends, but no one in Boulder ever invites us to a Hanukkah party, so we have our own Hanukkah parties. I don't give the kids presents, but we light the candles and play the dreidel game and eat latkes (if Trader Joe's doesn't sell out of them). I tried to go to Trader Joe's today, after Michael's, but cars were circling the parking lot in an ominous way, so I moved on. Maybe tomorrow.

Yesterday we did our first Christmas things. I love all the music that is available this time of year, so in the morning, Kid B and I went to a harp concert at the public library. (He's very fond of harps.) Last year we also went to a harp concert there, but it was CU students and affiliates playing. The concert we attended this year is apparently one they have every year, but I've somehow missed it until now. It was local schoolkids playing harps -- 18 of them! Eighteen girls and 18 harps, all on one stage. The girls ranged in age from I think 4th grade to senior in high school, and they played beautifully. My favorite was "Walking in the Air" from The Snowman. Watching them I was reminded of another thing I like about the season -- people wear such pretty clothes! All 18 girls and the harp teacher were wearing pretty dresses, mostly velvet. Red velvet, green velvet, blue velvet, purple velvet. I really feel that people should wear more velvet. Also, more people should play harps. What a cool instrument.

In the evening we did another Christmassy thing -- we rode the bus downtown and attended the Parade of Lights, or at least part of it. It was very cold and after maybe 2/3 of the floats had gone by, Kid A said he was done. Kid B was hard to convince, since he'd snagged a very good spot and had managed to collect a LOT of candy from the paraders, but we reminded him that we were going to eat at the Cheesecake Factory, so he came along. I had read in the paper that Boulder's Cheesecake Factory would close on December 29th, and we always eat there after the parade, so it was important to keep that part of the tradition for one more year.

But when we reached the restaurant, it was dark and the doors were locked. No signs indicated exactly when it had closed, but obviously it was a long time before December 29th. We were so disappointed! And then we had a problem, because there are not a lot of kid-friendly restaurants on the mall (at least not my-kids-friendly). We decided we would try Pasta Jay's, way over on the other end, and walked back there only to find that the wait was an hour and 15 minutes. Hmm. We ended up at the Kitchen Next Door, which is a perfectly fine restaurant, but huh. We've eaten there a few times, because they do school fundraisers, and I've just concluded it's not my style. There are a few tables with real chairs, but mostly (including this time) we end up sitting on these terribly uncomfortable metal stools. Why? Why can't cool modern restaurants have comfortable chairs? The menu is weird too, just nothing sounds good. A lot of kale. I ended up with a perfectly decent chicken salad sandwich, and Rocket Boy said his veggie tacos were good. Kid A liked his tomato soup and Kid B ate most of his nuggets. So it was fine. But when you're planning to eat a gigantic, dripping with fat, processed Cheesecake Factory dinner (and go home with enough for the next night's dinner as well) and you end up with a healthy little sandwich... well, we were sad. And no gigantic, sickening slices of cheesecake for dessert, but the kids did have all that candy they'd collected, so it was OK. But if we're around next year and go to the parade we'll have to make a new plan. Lots of time to think about that.

The week ahead is full of Christmas: my work holiday party is Tuesday night, I'm taking both kids to a concert Friday night, we might go to Georgetown on Saturday, there's the annual Rocks & Rails show in Longmont on the weekend, and of course all those nights of Hanukkah. It's a busy time of year. But fun!

First post

So this is my new blog! My third, to be exact, after "Welcome to Ridgecrest" and "Magpieland" (the latter has been mothballed, though I can still look at it). I started blogging in May 2009, when my twin boys were only a year old. I wrote the Ridgecrest blog for four years (2009-2013), then when we moved back to Boulder I wrote the Magpieland blog for about five and a half years (2013-2018), then I took a few months break, and now here we are again.

I closed down Magpieland because it was full of embarrassing personal stuff -- those five and a half years were stressful ones. Which is not to say the four years previous were a walk in the park, but there was the consolation of baby/toddler twins to write funny things about. Elementary school age twins are not as funny. Also, I've had a series of stressful jobs since we came back to Boulder. There was a flood. Etc. There was also plenty of stuff that would be embarrassing to the twins themselves, were one of their friends to find the blog and read it someday. (The Ridgecrest blog is FULL of embarrassing things, but my feeling about that is that it's OK to do embarrassing things when you're under five.)

For a while I thought my blogging days were done. The best way to avoid embarrassing yourself (or your kids) is not to tell the world any of the dumb things you do. I also spent quite a bit of time considering a "professional" blog, which someone recommended I start, where I would use my real name and write serious posts about writing and editing, things someone might conceivably want to pay me to do.

I came to these conclusions: (1) I like to blog. (2) My kids enjoy my blog and I can always delete whatever they decide is too embarrassing. (3) I think most professional blogs are boring and fake-sounding. People can hire me, or not hire me, for reasons other than my blog. So I decided to go ahead and start a new blog, and here we are. I pledge to myself and the kids to try not to be so embarrassing (and to delete what goes too far), and I further pledge to myself not to try to sound professional. It's just not me. I'm also continuing to use a pen name rather than my real one, though my true identity is easy to guess and that's fine.

So there you have it. Oh, the name. I thought of lots of great names for the new blog, but they were all taken. Then I started trying to incorporate the word "story." Margaretstory (and Margaretsstory) were taken. Magpiestory is too much like Magpieland. Hmm, other birds? Then I remembered my alter ego, Flicker. Ergo, Flickerstory. I like the name -- I feel that it should be a real word. Like clerestory, which is something to do with church windows, not blogs or birds. Anyway, Flickerstory is the new name and this is the new blog. And it's December! And life is hopping! So here we go.