Baked

No, not half baked.  Just baked.  As in, that’s what I did all afternoon.

Today was a great day.  After church, I made the drive across the city to spend the afternoon/evening with 2 of my closest girlfriends baking. Here they are:

 

Sheena on the left, Julia on the right.  This is @ Julia’s wedding (Just in case the wedding dress and flowers didn’t tip you off) 

For those of you that have no sweet clue who these peeps are: We went to church together.  I’ve known Julia since I was 8 and the three of us have been friends for 13 years.

(I would show up pictures from the actual afternoon, but I don’t have any…they’re on Sheena’s camera)

Anyway – it was just like old times.  Each year, Sheena’s mom hosts a Christmas eve party and it’s a tradition our family always looks forward to. 12 years ago, when she started this tradition, Sheena and I spent an entire day baking for it, and so we thought we’d resurrect that little tradition for a day.

It was a great way for the three of us to reconnect, since we now each live in 3 different cities, hours apart.  We spent hours laughing, baking, going out for supper, drinking tea, and just catching up.  And man was it refreshing.  We talked about “the good old days”, and how special our church family was, how tight our friendships were, and how formative we were in each others’  lives. 

We also talked about how good these days are.  Although our stories of these days don’t have each other in them, it’s just as rich to hear how our lives are going. 

As we toured Julia’s new house (well, kinda new….the first time I got to see it anyway), and poked and prodded at Sheena’s belly trying to get her 8 month old fetus to move already (!), I felt a familiarity. Although we weren’t snuggled deep in our sleeping bags talking about which boys in the youth group we thought we would date “if we had to pick one”, nor were we showing up at each other’s door steps at ridiculous hours in the morning seeing one of us off on a summer adventure/mission trip, but there we were, 13 years later still making sure we were doing ok, laughing lots and celebrating in each other’s joys.

Although we had it pretty good in the “good old days”, I’d like to think these days? They’re pretty special too.

The beginning of a tradition?

Up until this year, Ben and I have always just had a cute little 4′ tall Christmas tree that seemed to fit just right in our apartment.  We had about 5 ornaments our first year, and have since added to our collection. This has always suited me just fine.  Each year, we’ve hauled it out, and had a fun evening of decorating just the two of us.

See? Cute right?

 

Well this year, Ben thought we needed the experience of cutting down our own tree.  I wasn’t AS thrilled as he seemed to be about the idea, because frankly, well, we have 5 ornaments. AND – Ben also didn’t want to just go cut down a tree from a tree farm, where they specialize in growing and selling lush, full evergreens, ready just in time for Christmas.  Oh no, Ben wanted to just go get our own somewhere.

So, because I love him, and because sometimes I can be a stick in the mud, and Ben can be fun and full of adventure – I decided that we should do it.  I still had my reservations.  The primary one being: WHERE THE HECK ARE WE GOING TO FIND A  TREE?

But, Ben assured me that he’d take care of all of that, and we’d have a fun, little adventure – which I’m all in favour of.  So, a week and an half ago, we got all bundled up and set out.  Ben’s big plan? To drive until we see a tree we like.

So we drove, and drove, and then drove some more.  I started to get more and more concerned that we were about to participate in some illegal activity, and Ben gets more and more excited about the prospect of cutting down our very own tree!  How rustic!

We eventually pull over in a park and just start walking.  We walk through the park and a few farmer’s fields, until we’re confident enough that we’re probably not on someone’s private property and then we begin looking.

Now I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to look for evergreen trees before, but I think there’s a reason people pay $25 for a pre-cut/perfectly grown one.  The thing is – there really aren’t that many kicking around out there.  And the ones that DO exist, are either 250 years old and massive, or not-so-much trees at all, more resembling sparse little shrubs.

Well, after a good 1/2 hour of romping around in the woods, my clothes, coat and scarf are covered in burrs, my boots are entirely caked in mud from the field we traipsed through and we’re still treeless.  Ben doesn’t give up and keeps going.  He leaps over a creek and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to make the jump.  So I release him to continue the search without me as I wait patiently, picking weeds out of my hair.

Suddenly, I hear a yell from across the way – “Honey – I  think I’ve found it! I’ve found our tree”.  Excited to be done with our search, I tell him to chop it down and I eagerly await his return.  I have visions of a lush, green, and full tree – probably the only one in the bunch, as if it was destined to end up our Christmas tree, and worked hard it’s whole tree life to be greener and fuller than all it’s tree friends.   I start to feel a little bit bad that I ever questioned Ben in the first place. Of COURSE this is a great idea.  What a great little adventure we have had, and what success! We should do this every year!

Well, then Ben came back.  And trailing weakly behind him, was not so much the full, lush tree that I had hoped it would be. “Really?” I thought. “THIS was going to be our tree?” 

To make a long story short-  we take it home, and that night – we have a great night of just me and Ben, some hot appetizers right out of the oven, a little wine, some chocolate, candles and our favourite Christmas CD’s playing the background.  (Sarah McLachlan’s Wintersong: LOVE IT).  And we decorate our tree.

Although I was disheartened by the stature of our tree, I thought for sure once we get our ornaments and lights on it, it will still look nice. Right? RIGHT?

Weeelllll….that wasn’t quite the outcome.  With every light we strung around the branches, they drooped a little lower under the weight.  Then as we hung with each ornament, it only seemed to accentuate the large gaps between each branch.

The final result?

Let’s be honest-  it’s pretty pathetic.  And even now, as I stare at it, I’ll confess, I still think it’s just a little bit ugly.  And I’ll also confess that yesterday, I still set up our little 4′ tree, just cause I felt like I needed to. (oh, and please excuse the messy living room -we had boxes, and decorations everywhere)

BUT – and yes there is a but – it’s OUR tree. And we DID have a great little adventure together.  And I really wouldn’t trade that evening for anything.  As we sipped our wine, ate our cheese and chocolate and cuddled on the couch watching the candles in our fireplace burn, staring at our sad, flimsy, pathetic little tree, while this song  (seriously click the link and listen: probably my favourite Christmas song…) played in the background, I still felt the same warm, full feeling I get each year. 

And really? Isn’t that what it’s about? Sure I wanted the bestest, brightest, fullest, tree ever – but so what? A couple thousand years ago, I think a lot of other people were expecting a saviour to come in the bestest, brightest, fullest way possible, and totally missed the baby in a grungy, dirty, manger.   

So may you experience what Christmas is truly about this season.  Even if it means you put up with a tree that has maybe 12 branches at best, limply decorated in your living room.

Insta-parenting 101

Ben and I are currently taking care of three kids.  All at once. For multiple days. (scary thought eh?)

One of the pastors at our church and his wife, who are great people and take really good care of us, had to head out of town on a business trip for a few days and asked if we’d watch their kids for them.  (Did I mention there were THREE of them?)  Usually, I don’t think we’d be the ones they’d ask, but 2 of their kids (boys, ages 13 and 11) are in our Jr. High youth group, and we love hanging out with them, and apparently, they love hanging out with us too, so it worked well.

So, from Tuesday to Thursday of this week, Ben and I are living in their house, and running the show.  THey left EARLY Tuesday morning, so I drove over  as the kids woke up and got them ready for school, and we’ve been here since then.  I felt like I should put on my highest waisted pair of jeans that I own and feather my bangs….but I resisted.

Here’s a basic run-down of our time so far:

• I make three lunches.  I immedately feel insecure, because clearly, I’m not their mom, so how can I possibly make their lunch taste as good?
• I then immediately put a hole in the piece of bread I am buttering, by spreading too hard.
• I hide that piece and start a new piece.
• They fight.  I don’t say anything.
• They work it out and I think to myself “I can do this parenting thing…sometimes, they just need to communicate by themselves without me getting involved”
• Then they hit each other.
• I get them out the door.
• They come home after school and I ask if any of them have homework. Miracle upon miracles, NONE of them do. (hmmm…convenient)
• We hang out and I start supper.  We are having tacos.  I forget that I put the taco shells in the oven to warm up.
• Kid # 2 says “Something smells funny”
• Crap.  I run out to the store and buy more taco shells.
• We eat supper, and then, being the fun people we are, we decorate gingerbread houses with them.
• It’s a hit. 
• So is the pounds and pounds of candy and icing they consume in the process. 
• I start to worry that I will be cleaning up sugar vomit all night.
• So I become the candy nazi and tell them they can eat no more.
• Kid # 3 keeps eating them anyway, but she just becomes more sneaky at it.
• All of the houses at one point, fall apart.  But Ben comes to the rescue and fixes them.
• I will now have to continue to be a candy nazi and only let them eat portions of their houses between now and when their parents resume control.
• I put Kid # 3 to bed.  She informs me that each morning she comes in at 7 am to cuddle with mommy.
• hmm.  I am neither awake at 7, or your mommy . This could be a problem.
• I convince her to wait until 7:30.
• This morning I wake up to the cutest 7 year old standing beside my bed.  So I let her in, and we cuddle. 
• I thought this meant we would fall back to sleep.
• She thought this meant we should have a lengthy conversation in a whisper voice. 
• We did that. Then we got up, did the morning routine all over, and I got them out the door only 3 minutes behind schedule.

 

Well, that’s it so far.  They’re at school, I’m heading off to work, and we’ll all reconvene at 4 pm. At which point I think we’ll throw a pizza in the oven, play some cards and they’ll try desperately to convince me that “Of course mom would let us eat this entire gingerbread house today…we always do that”.

Randoms

I feel guilty about the amount of time between this post and the last.  I know it’s only a week, and really, how narcissistic am I that I think people are actually waiting with bated breath about my posting? But for some reason, I just feel better about myself if I do, so indulge my scattered thoughts.

Ben and I put up our Christmas tree on Wednesday.  It was fun, and romantic and the beginning of a great tradition.  There will be more on this later in the week.

Ben and I are sick.  It sucks being sick.  But you know what sucks more than being sick? Being sick as the same time as your spouse.  Then it just becomes one big whine fest as we try to one up each other with sickness, so as to earn more sympathy.  And I feel like I got the shaft this time around.  Here I am yesterday, suffering from chills, fever, stuffy nose, aches, pains, and all I want to do is curl up on the couch in my sweats and have my husband wait on my hand and foot.  I thought I for sure had  this round of sickness sympathy.  And then he has to go and puke in the middle of the night.  Stomach sickness ALWAYS trumps cold/fever sickness, dang it. So, I’ve sucked it up, and brought him his gingerale, toast and “awww honey”’s when he’s needed them. 

For the record, I still think I’m sicker, I mean, he only puked once….tomorrow will be my day I tell you! all mine!

In the midst of getting sick, we’ve had some of the busiest weeks ever, and that will continue for at least another week.  I had the privilege of attending a Canadian Youth Workers conference this weekend and Ben joined me today for a bit.  We didn’t get to take in as much as we wanted, due to being holed up in bed – but we eventually forged ahead, went to Toronto and took in a few sessions.  It was great.  I have a lot more to wrestle with, think through and be inspired by, and once again, I am humbled that I get to do this job. 

Conferences like this are also fun because it just becomes one big reunion of sorts.  It’s like taking all the Christians from the province/country and sticking them all in the same room.  Inevitably, everyone knows at least a bazillion other people from other churches, youth groups, camps, etc. While this is all good fun, it sure makes it hard to get from one seminar to the other without being stopped at least 4 times to have the same shallow conversation.

The conference this weekend was at a pretty posh hotel downtown Toronto.  The Washington Capitals and the Miami dolphins were staying there.  Which really didn’t mean much to me, except for at one point, as I visited with someone in the lobby, there were suddenly a dozen really tall, mostly white, broad shouldered men surrounding me, all dressed in suits with shirts and ties, with gashes on their face.  I felt as though I should be asking for autographs, except that I didn’t know who any of them were.  Some brush with fame eh?  Moments later, in walked a dozen not quite as tall, mostly black, really BIG, men with lots of bling and wearing blazers with a shirt underneath (no collared shirt or tie, because that’s not how they roll) and I knew once again, that I must be in the presence of more famous athletes.  Famous athletes who I’m sure had more money in their wallets at any given moment than I make in an entire year.  But again, do I know anything about the Dolphins? Nooooo.  Somehow, a story about seeing a bunch of unnamed famous athletes doesn’t quite seem so slick.

Not like my story about the time that Chris Pronger stared at me for like 2.5 seconds once on an airplane.  Seriously.  I know.  We’re pretty tight like that.

Well, I realize that this post is a tad on the dull side.  I’m ok with that.  I’m sick, tired, and should probably be working on the Sunday School lesson I need to teach tomorrow. 

 I’ll be back soon….and hopefully with something slightly more interesting than the fact that between Ben and I, we’ve had bodily fluids come out of pretty much every spot they can over the past 24 hours.