I am writing this in the last small bit of quiet I will have before the relative speed and insanity of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day descend upon me. 

Christmas Eve will be a flurry of work, last minute shopping, rushing home to change (The choir tends to dress in similar colors for special services.  It actually looks pretty good from the audience!) before the Christmas Eve Candlelight Service at church, then rushing home to wrap the newly purchased last minute gifts followed by outlasting the kids so I can wrap their gifts while they sleep.  If I am lucky, I'll get to bed by 2:00am.  Although Christmas Day starts later (my children are not voluntary early risers under ANY circumstances) it's still an all day run of food, family, gifts, and two long-ish sits on the 405 freeway getting to and from my mother's house in the San Fernando Valley. The day goes by fast, and is pretty enjoyable.  I do like spending time with my family, but when The Day is done, I am only too happy to come home and make the acquaintance of my bed.

Since I've been a parent, Christmas has become a different experience for me.  For the last 21 years, I have always sought to make sure that my kids have great Christmas memories.  I will never forget the year I woke my son up Christmas morning by playing the CD he asked for on the boombox radio he asked for.  The look on his face was priceless, as he wondered aloud how I had managed to both sneak it past him, and hide it in the house.  A couple of years ago, I realized that my daughter had developed a love of the Hello Kitty character.  So for Christmas, I bought her a Hello Kitty outfit, Hello Kitty  hat, and a few other related items, and put them all in a Hello Kitty gift bag.  She squealed from the minute she saw the bag until she had pulled out the very last item.

To that end, I have also expressed to my family that I don't really want or need anything for Christmas.  Adults are difficult to buy for, and rather than have anyone racking their brains trying to figure out what to get me, I always tell them that I just want to make sure that the kids have a nice Christmas.  This has come in handy when Christmas morning was comprised of gifts given by others because I had no money to purchase anything for anyone.  And there were quite a few of those.

It was those years of having nothing that made me appreciate The Day for more than just the exchange of gifts.  What is it about The Day, other than the gifts, that people wait all year for?  The anticipation of food, family and fellowship (religious or otherwise), that people may not receive during the year, will always be evident, somewhere, on The Day.  My family all lead very busy lives, what with work, school, travel and so on, and we don't always see each other much during the year.  A holiday here, or a hurried visit there, maybe a phone call or two.  But for at least one day each year, we all slow down, sit and share a meal and talk, just for a day.

Even now, while I am in a slightly (VERY slightly) better financial place, I still enjoy The Day more for the feelings of peace and happiness.  I am wiser now, and gifts are small, and usually have some meaning to the recipient.  I enjoy seeing the smiles on faces when they receive some small item that was just what they  wanted or needed.

The laughter, conversation and smiles are what I look forward to on The Day.  They are the only things I want or need.  I get them in abundance.  I am satisfied with The Day.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

I am one of those people that posts pictures of things that I am either cooking or eating on Facebook.  Yes.  I am THAT person.

This modern way of sharing a meal replaces the old  fashioned get together.  Although this type of sharing is a necessity of modern life due to our chronic over-scheduling and far flung friends and relatives, it's also useful for hiding our mistakes.  You see the delicious end result, not the destroyed kitchen it took to create the dish, or the five times I got the recipe wrong before I finally hit on the magic combination that made it edible.

I am not someone considered a "natural" in the kitchen.  That title is held by my older sister, Mignon.  No matter what she decides to cook, the food looks magazine perfect, is delicious, and is prepared correctly the first time.  Always.  Culinary perfection in a way most of us stumbling around the kitchen trying not to burn the pot of water we left on to boil would aspire to, if only we could remember why we put the pot of water on to boil in the first place.  I have had open pouting fits because she made one of her heavenly (and HEAVY) cream cheese pound cakes, and either due to timing or the cake being for someone else, I couldn't get a piece.  She is the only person that can cook liver that I will actually eat, and one Christmas served up a re-imagined banana pudding that has the entire family begging her for it at every holiday.

I am not a terrible cook, but I know my limits.  So long as I keep it simple, the kids don't end up eating sandwiches or cereal for dinner due to my attempts at creativity.  My disasters are numerous and legendary.  Just ask the kids.  Take the steak I killed the other night.  Yes.  I know it was dead when I bought it at a huge markdown from the store, but I delivered the cheap cut of meat (it was hugely marked down for a reason) to a second death by way of what was supposed to be a short stint in the oven that wasn't quite short enough.  When I pulled the steaks from the oven, I'm not sure what alarmed me first: the strange smell, or the way the steaks had curled up in the middle of the pan, as if recoiling form the marinade I had put in the pan to keep them moist.  The steak knife met with a great deal of resistance as the meat absolutely refused to be separated from each other, and the first taste reminded me that I needed to clean my daughter's sneakers for school the next day.  The kids tried the steak, and managed to set a record for spitting it out without ever chewing it.

Mercifully, it's not always that bad:

The saving grace for me has been cooking shows.  I am a visual learner, and watching people do things while they explain what they are doing goes a long way in making sure I actually understand the process, as well as giving me an idea of what each step is supposed to look like.  I can't tell you how many times I have followed a recipe only to end up with food that looks more like it came from the Cartoon Network than the Food Network or the Cooking Channel.  Before America's Test Kitchen on PBS taught me how to make a bechamel sauce, add cheese, whatever pasta I wanted to use, then bake the whole thing in the oven, I was still making boxed macaroni and cheese, my daughter's favorite food.  I have now attained bad-ass status in my daughter's eyes because I don't have to use the boxed anymore, I can cook what she likes from scratch.  If the ability to make my kids favorite dinners, or heck, even make something they will eat without complaint or mysterious frowns, gets me hero status, I'll take it.

My son, Damani, is turning into quite the cook himself.  He's also a visual learner, and by watching me, figured out what not to do in the kitchen, as well as how to make sure at least some things go right.  He took a summer course from a chef at our church, and performed work study in a Marriott hotel kitchen.  He has the added benefit of YouTube for learning to cook new dishes, and a knack for adapting recipes if he doesn't have every ingredient he needs.  He also has a unique gift of being able to taste a dish and not only guess the ingredients, but how to prepare it.  I found out about this trick with a breakfast casserole I had purchased from a convenience store.  He took one bite, told me what was in it, and after I bought the food needed to re-create the dish, he made a better version of the casserole, and it is now a staple on weekend days when we are going to be particularly busy.

Just so you know, I do not cook on Mother's Day.  I buy the groceries needed for my special dinner, then tell the kids what I want.  This past Mother's Day, I found steak on sale (not a cheap cut, just on sale), fresh broccoli, and potatoes.  I didn't have to give my son much direction, my daughter happily helped out, and the dinner above was the result.  It was every bit as delicious as it looks.  To say that I am only an average cook, my son is turning out to be quite the superior cook.  To the point where he and I can switch off cooking duties during the week, and I never have to worry that the food will be inedible.  I love it.  And I'm so glad he didn't learn it all from me.  Then I'd be worried.

My daughter used to love my days off. 

On every other Friday, she could sleep a little later than her usual 5:30am wake up time, and I would walk her to school.  Those were times when she and I could talk candidly without the input of her older brother.  Since the loss of our car  a little over a week ago,  what was once a bi-weekly ritual is now a daily necessity, as now my daughter and I are back where we were three years ago: walking down the street in the pre-dawn hours in order to get the bus to her daycare so I can go to work.  Now, we also walk to her gymnastics class at a local park.  Yesterday, we walked just under a mile in the waning heat of early fall in the late afternoon in Southern California.  I don't know if she was tired, or if maybe the heat was getting to her, but there was a different feeling I got from her as we made our way quickly over to the park.

Although there are times when she is quite conversational, lately she has been quiet and seems to be more introspective.  Never make the mistake of thinking that kids don't have thoughts that have little to do with what you think they are concerned about.  Especially around this transitional age of 9-12.  Children are far more perceptive and intelligent than adults give them credit for, and I think if given a glimpse inside the mind of my daughter yesterday afternoon, I would have heard something like this:

My name is Ashley, and I'm 9 years old.


I have a lot of Hello Kitty stuff that Mommy and other people get me, and I like to watch Disney Channel and Nickelodeon.

"Are we still going to have a sleepover for my birthday?"

I have a few friends, but I spend a lot of time by myself.  I get upset a lot and scream sometimes, and grownups and kids don't understand it, so I just play by myself, or play with the babies at daycare or watch tv when I'm at home.  And then sometimes I feel like running around for no reason, and I start thinking a lot of stuff at once, and I just start talking all at the same time.  Teachers don't like that.  That's why I put my patch on in the morning.  I calm down, and I don't get in as much trouble.  That's also why Mommy won't let me eat candy a lot.

"Can we get water from AM/PM before we get to the park?  I'm HOT!"

We haven't done this much walking in a long time.  It's cold in the morning, hot in the afternoon and I really miss riding in a car.  My backpack is heavy in the morning, and I see Mommy looking at it, but I told her I don't want a backpack with wheels.  Too big and not cool.  I'm glad we went home first and dropped it off.  She keeps saying that it won't be like this for long, and I keep telling her that it's okay, but I hope we don't have to keep doing this.

"How much you wanna bet he changed the tv already?"

I love my brother but he is kinda annoying.  He got mad because he was watching TV when we got back from school, and Mommy wanted the tv off so I could to do my homework before we left again.  He started saying stuff, and Mommy almost got mad back at him.  She told him to go in his room or do something else.  He got on the computer and started playing music HE liked.   He hogs EVERYTHING, including Mommy's attention.  I wish he would get his act together, whatever that means.  That's what Mommy keeps telling him, and maybe they wouldn't argue so much.  I get tired of getting sent in Mommy's room so they can talk.

"Those people in front of us are walking sloooooowwwww."

Mommy laughed a little when I said that.  YAY!  I like her laugh, even the little ones.  She thinks we don't see her making sad faces and mad faces when she talks about money with Auntie and Nana.  When she goes in her room to talk on the phone, we turn down the TV so we can hear.  We want to know what she's talking about.  Mommy told my aunt that she doesn't like surprises.  We don't either.  I like it when she tells me that something is going to happen, or not gonna happen.  I feel better when I know, and I don't get all upset, and then Mommy doesn't get all upset with me.  That's why I try not to ask her for stuff.  I know we don't have money, she says it all the time, but sometimes I ask for little stuff anyway.  And sometimes I actually get it!

"Can I play around a little bit, or do I have to go straight to class?"

The other class is still there, so me and Mommy are sitting at a table, waiting.  I'm hungry and I don't want to tell her because she told me to eat something before we left home, and I only ate a little bit.  Maybe I can get something on the way home?  I'm feeling a little bouncy, and Mommy is starting to get that worried look she gets when I start feeling bouncy, and now she is looking at the door to the room where I do gymnastics.  Now she is gonna be watching me like that the whole time.  She thinks I play around too much, but teachers have only said that a couple of times.  OK.  The little kids are out.  Time for class.

I did stop and get her a snack on the walk back from the park.  I am not completely oblivious to her needs.  Preoccupied, definitely, but I can catch a hint when I listen hard enough. Today, I did.

I am enjoying the relative quiet of two kids still asleep on a holiday morning.

It is rare, and it will be fleeting.  Soon it will give way to requests for food, attention and money.  There will be chores, weekend homework to complete before tomorrow, hair to be taken down for an appointment on Friday.  Recyclables to be collected, a budget and meals to be planned and three lives coordinated into some semblance of order.

But for now, there is only silence.  Morning television provides soft background noise.  Neighbors take off to their various destinations for the day.  The dog in the front house is barking at passerby.  My house is quiet though.  It's a wonderful thing, this quiet.  I rarely have time to sit or ponder, and I welcome the respite from the constant business of my life.

I'm not used to quiet.  Especially with my kids.  My house generally sounds like there is a five-alarm fire in progress.  My son listens to everything at top volume, and is not amused when I ask him to either turn stuff down or go get fitted for a hearing aid.  My daughter is entering her drama queen years, when all conversations are conducted in high pitch whine.  The kids are incapable of asking me a question when we are in the same room, necessitating answers shouted from the rear of the house.   Coming back into the room to ask what the question was at a reasonable volume triggers instant amnesia.  Ditto the oddball argument that pops up the minute I leave the room.

The arguments are legendary.  If you think a 20 year old and a 9 year old have nothing to argue about, you have no imagination.  We'll start with the classic "you get away with EVERYTHING" argument, and just descend from there.  Sibling arguments are why I think earplugs were invented.  I have had to listen to, and referee, some of the most inane arguments ever to come from two kids.  Why, exactly, do dogs like to poop in our yard.  Can Skittles really fall from the sky.    Whether or not there was supposed to be cinnamon on graham crackers.  And if I have to hear them debate the virtues of various superpowers one more time, I may gag them both.  But it's the territorial squabbles ("Let me have the remote!  Put my phone down!  Don't throw that away!  Get out of my room!") that are conducted at high volume and normally need my immediate intervention. Loudly and generally in the middle of some other activity being conducted in another room.

That's later.  I just heard a door open, and I hear a sleepy voice behind me asking about breakfast.  It'll take her awhile to get up to full speed, and she just plopped herself on the couch with a pillow and a small blanket.  So far she's made no move to turn the TV, and is just laying there with a half grin on her face.  I think she is learning to enjoy the silence, too.