Presents

My birthday yesterday was glorious. Nothing terribly exciting happened other than that I ate so much delicious food, which is really the whole point of a birthday. And I got some lovely presents and laughed a lot.

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The birds seemed especially chirpy, the clouds were extra billowy and the wildflowers looked gorgeous. I shall assume it was all for me. April is the best month for a birthday!

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Last year I made this pin for my friend Tamara. She’s very modest about her birthday so I thought it would be perfect to announce it to everyone. She loaned the pin to me yesterday. And not coincidentally I was offered free dessert twice. (Of course I said yes!)  Although I did spend the first couple of hours replying in an amazed voice, “how did you know???” until I remembered that I was wearing a giant ribbon announcing the fact.

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My sister made me the cutest little herb garden set. She claims not to be crafty at all but look how adorable this is! I can hardly wait for the seeds to bloom.

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Did any of you read The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother? The author is an overbearing perfectionist who, for her birthday, receives some handmade cards from her elementary-school-aged daughters. She decides that the cards aren’t good enough and that her children haven’t put enough thought into them so she throws the cards back at the girls and demands that they redo them. Yikes! Who wants a gift that has to be forced and coerced (her, apparently). My kids did a lovely job with the cardmaking so there was no need for me to toss them back in their faces, lucky them!

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Have you noticed I haven’t gone on one of my holiday-induced rants this season?  Normally by this point I’m up in arms about the endless concerts and recitals, stupid holiday parties, and gifts for various people that I’d rather not give.

I’m angry a lot at Christmas.

So stupid of me.

This year I decided to be zen about a lot of things.

I decided to just enjoy my daughter’s concert without composing a mean letter in my mind to the choir director asking that we not have to hear a solo by every member of the choir.

This is just not a year when outside lights are going to happen. Around here, if we want lights, it’s up to me. And I made peace with not having lights. Plus it was rainy and cold most of December. And there is no way I’m braving bad weather for something as pointless as Christmas lights.

I made teacher gifts a week in advance. I took the time to do a nice peppermint soap and didn’t rush through it as I usually do.

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I said no to every party except the school parties and the ward party. I felt slightly grinchy, but one must do extreme things to survive. So, sorry friends who always have the super lame Caroling party. We didn’t really have plans already (and I hope you don’t read my blog!). Also, sorry Bunco and bookclub girls!

I spent much of the month crafting gifts. While I will probably never knit and crochet several gifts again (it was a lot of work! And there’s no way those little kids will appreciate it), it was definitely a big stress release. All that anxiety just drifts away when I make stuff. And, oh my, I had a lot of stuff to make. The little deer was the cutest. Well, so was the elephant.

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I have been wrapping several presents a day. As much as I love wrapping paper, you’d think that doing presents would be my favorite. Which it is if I don’t have a stack of fifty presents staring at me on Christmas Eve. Nothing like procrastinating until the last minute to make something not enjoyable. You’d think it wouldn’t have taken me 40 years to figure this out. (You like my gift-wrapping center? It’s right in the middle of my bedroom floor. I remain, as always, the pinnacle of organization).

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No neighbor gifts. This may seem like the height of rudeness but neighbor gifts are really not done here. The first year we moved in I did my usual over-the-top production (sugar cookies done all in white and silver and personalized with the names of each family member we’d be taking them to). Boy, was I surprised when nobody gave us anything back.  I learned my lesson fast and it has taken a tremendous burden off of me. Plus, it’s good for dieting.

I have really stripped the Christmas season down to its barest essentials. While this seems positively unAmerican, I get overwhelmed quickly. I don’t know why we all knock ourselves out to make this perfect Christmas experience for our children. Here is the truth: whatever you do for Christmas, your kids will love. The end. It is as simple as that. So my family can all be happy with the bare minimum, or my kids can do way more stuff and be just as happy but I will be miserable and practically homicidal by December 25th. Hmmm, that’s a hard choice.

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It’s Teacher Appreciation Week! In the past some Room Moms have turned it into more of a Parent Extortion Week with requests for gift cards and hardcover books, but this year we’re keeping it simple. My kids will be doing thank you notes and these lovelies: Red Velvet cake in a jar. Yes, the cake is baked in a mason jar. And eaten from a mason jar. It’s such a cute, fun idea. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that it’s super easy. But it’s not too bad; it’s worth it. Plus these are unique and homemade and that’s my favorite kind of gift to give.

Step 1: Decide on your cake flavor. I made these for five different teachers. One hates chocolate. So I decided on Red Velvet with cream cheese frosting. For the other four teachers I also added a layer of homemade hot fudge. I usually do from-scratch cakes but I decided to make it easy on myself and did a doctored red velvet (recipe at the very end, if you are interested). Whatever recipe you use, please for the love of everything holy, make the frosting from scratch. Frosting is not hard to make and when it’s being put in a jar, the consistency doesn’t even matter. Frosting from a can is horrendous. There is no circumstance I can imagine where I would ever use it. I will get off my high horse now. But I’m serious.

Step 2: You will need glass canning jars. They can be whatever size you like but they must be wide-mouthed (that means they are straight up and down. Don’t even bother using traditional jars with the smaller mouths. They don’t work too well.) I chose pint-sized. I got five cakes out of one batch of cake batter. The half-pint sizes are nice too but are more of a single cupcake size. You’ll get more cakes out of one recipe, though, so think about what your needs are. (This picture shows all three kids of wide-mouth jars compared to a Coke can so you get a sense of size). If you live in Texas, H.E.B. has all three kinds of jars. They’re sold in a box of a dozen for about $7-10.

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Step 3: The most important step. Grease those jars! You are going to be hating life if you don’t.

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Step 4: Make your cake batter and fill each jar halfway. Bake at 350º for 25-30 minutes for a pint jar (no, they won’t break! Set them on a shelf in the middle of the oven and they’ll bake just fine). A great thing to use for a tester is a piece of uncooked spaghetti. Some people on the internet recommend baking cakes in a jar in the microwave. Actually they don’t taste that bad but the texture is really spongy. They do cook in about 90 seconds but they make the most hideous mess; the batter puffs up and then leaks all over the outside of the jar. It’s better to just bake them in the oven. It saves time in the long run.

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Step 5: Remove cakes from the oven and let them cool completely. As they cool they’ll shrink a little bit and if you’ve greased your jars well, they’ll pop right out. While the cakes are cooling, make your frosting. Again, frosting is not hard to make; no excuses (recipe at the end). Once the cakes have cooled, cut off the weird end. (You should probably eat it as a reward for being so selfless by making nice gifts for people.) Cut the rest into two (or more) sections.

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Step 6: You’ll want your jars to be nice and clean. Either wash them or get out a few more from the case that are already clean. Either way, place a piece of cake at the bottom. Top with some frosting. I suggest putting your frosting in a ziploc bag and snipping off the corner. It’s a lot neater and easier to fill up the jars this way instead of using a spoon. (I’ll leave the amounts up to your discretion.) Repeat again. If you happen to have some matching sprinkles, add some to the top frosting layer before you put on the lid.

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Step 7: If you’ve completely screwed your jars up and they look terrible, don’t worry. Now is the time to pretty things up. Ribbons and bows cover a multitude of sins.

I wanted these jars to have a summery feel since it’s the end of the school year. I printed up some paper labels, cut them with a fancy punch, and ran them through my Xyron Create-a-Sticker.

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There were some cute and semi-flat daisies that I found in the scrapbooking section of Hobby Lobby (they have wires on the back to attach easily to things). Adding a spoon is a nice touch, too, especially so the recipient can bust open the jar and eat their cake immediately.

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Red Velvet Cake recipe:

1 box white cake mix (“pudding in the mix” variety)
2 Tbs. cocoa
3 eggs
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp. vanilla
1 whole bottle of red food coloring (1/3 jar of paste or gel coloring)

Mix all the ingredients together on med-high for two minutes, scraping the bowl as needed. Grease jars well. Bake at 350º til tester comes out clean. Cool completely before removing from jars.

Cream Cheese Icing:

1 stick butter (1/2 cup), softened
1 8 oz. pack of cream cheese, softened
2 cups powdered sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
pinch of salt

Beat butter and sugar until fluffy (about 2 minutes. It will be very dry and then suddenly will come together.) Add cream cheese then beat another 30-45 seconds. Beat in vanilla and salt.

You guys! I’m back! I didn’t want to tell you that I was going on a vacation for Christmas because I know there’s that crazy band of robbers who reads mommy blogs until they find one who says they’ll be gone then locates their house and steals everything (just kidding, Mom-in-law! This does not actually exist.) But now it’s safe to tell you that we went to Portland, Oregon to visit the extended family for Christmas (don’t worry, I’m not going to include any blurry pictures of my pajama-clad children opening presents. I like you too much for that.)

Although it was our most successful family visit to date (not once did I hiss at my husband through clenched teeth, “I cannot handle your sister for one more second!” Nor did we get in a ginormous fight where one of us seriously threatens divorce. Tempers flare around family, I’m sad to say), it was still a pain. I would not recommend taking Christmas on the road with six kids. The massive amount of luggage (clothes plus presents) was frightening (yay for Southwest and two free bags per person!) Not only that but I had to bring stockings because everyone knows those are the best part of Christmas. And you can’t have stockings without stocking holders because I’m not about to lay the stockings on the floor. So those had to come too. And then there were the gifts for the grandparents and cousins on both sides. And the birthday presents for the two cousins with December birthdays (poor, poor souls).

Let’s just say that the possibility for screwing up this Christmas was tremendous. But it was a success! I remembered everything! And Christmas was wonderful! And we got everything in eight suitcases! And I remembered to bring jackets this time (we won’t go into the Christmas of ’08 when we went to Utah sans coats. That was a fun one.)

There was a little kerfluffle when Mister told me for real this year not to buy him anything. He “doesn’t need anything” (actually, that’s true so I shouldn’t put it in quotes). So I bought him a couple of shirts and a CD (I don’t want to tell you which CD because it’s embarrassing. OK, Josh Groban. See? Embarrassing. I’m an enabler. But when I bought Josh Groban concert tickets last year I only bought one because I have my limits. And paying actual money to see Josh Groban is beyond them.) Anyhoo, I’m sure you can guess what happened Christmas morning; I had lots of wonderful presents to open up and he didn’t. And then he was pouty about it. So I had to do what all wives do when they don’t give a good present: they have to give A Good Present. A private, wifely present(s), if you catch my drift. I don’t know why it even counts since it’s not under the tree or anything. But if it gets a husband to quit complaining, it works for me.

We had a lovely flight home today and are enjoying both our our cat who just about had a nervous breakdown while we were gone, and the sinkful of dirty dishes because Mister insisted that we leave for the airport three hours early and couldn’t wait just five extra minutes for me to load the dishwasher (it’s better to just indulge his fancy for being at the airport absurdly early).

We put the kids to bed without dinner tonight (well, I consider peanuts and Sprite to be a perfectly good dinner, but they are totally spoiled and wanted something more. So selfish, right?). We’ll be spending New Year’s Eve opening all the Christmas cards that came after we left (I don’t want to throw them away already but you procrastinators leave me no choice!) and going to bed by 11 pm.

P.S. Someone please explain how sitting still in an airplane chair for several hours can be exhausting. Because I feel like I ran a marathon (OK, more like a 5K, but still.)

P.P.S. It was scientifically proven today that a Honda minivan holds twice as much luggage as a Suburban. So all you Suburban-lovers with your “SUVs are so much cooler than minivans” can suck it!

Happy New Year everyone!

Like most earnest and well-educated parents I decided that when I had children we would be “gun-free”. No shooting toys period.* (Except water guns because those aren’t about killing, they’re about laughing. And Nerf guns because, well, I don’t know. They’re just different.)

I’ve always preferred my boys to pretend to kill and maim each via hand-to-hand combat. You should be able to look someone in the eyes while you hurt them. Thus swords and knives were always fully acceptable. Bows and arrows are OK too. (Yes, I am aware that it’s possible to shoot someone with a pistol while staring at them. And it’s possible to kill someone with an arrow from really far away. We thoughtful parents don’t operate in grey areas, OK?)

My husband is a gentle soul who doesn’t care much for roughhousing or video games so York and Finn were raised in a kindly manner and were always fine with the no-gun rule. Violence is just not something they were really exposed to. They didn’t even try to make guns out of Legos or toast. I patted myself on the back for being an exemplary mother.

Everything was smooth sailing until Finn turned eight. Grandpa was in town and took Finn shopping for his birthday. They got back from the toy store with seven guns and a machete.

I may be a pacifist but I am not a meanie. The guns stayed and things have gone downhill ever since.

This year York and Finn will find these airsoft beauties under the Christmas tree (they’ll love you forever, Grandpa!):

The slogan for this Thompson M1A1 is “the gun that changed the world.” Yep, tell that to the Indians.

*For about the first three days of parenthood I actually thought it would be possible for our children to be raised with only wooden toys. The naïveté of new parents is so hilarious. We did manage to stay Barbie-free until about three years ago, though.

My husband, Mr. Jennie, does not like to be blogged about. He finds the whole idea of blogging to be egotistical and embarrassing. He likes people to think we are incredibly normal and pleasant. (Then what was he thinking marrying me, you are probably wondering. He asks himself that question on a weekly basis.)

What you may not know about Mister is that he is very funny. Oh, I’m funny too, but I like to think of myself as more of the witty sort. Mister is very silly and slapstick. He tries not to let other people know how funny he is (because being funny is fundamentally embarassing), but he makes me laugh a dozen times a day.

Mister is also the most thoughtful person I have ever met. He is just a nice, sweet guy. Some women like bad boys or guys who are total jerks. Not me. I tried to find the nicest man I could. The first year we were married I told my new husband that I wanted a fancy Coach purse for Christmas. As you can imagine, we didn’t exactly have the budget for that sort of thing (but as a newlywed that detail seemed unimportant to me).

Mister is one of those unfortunate people with a December birthday and at his birthday party our first year together, his parents handed him a big fancy Nordstrom box. He promptly gave it to me and said I should open it. It was the Coach purse. He’d sacrificed his own birthday present and told his parents to get me my fancy purse instead.

I was astounded and humbled. I would never give up a birthday present! Ever.

If that touching gesture weren’t enough, each year he has given me a present on his birthday. I guess to remind me what an awesome guy I’m married to.

This year we’ve had several dozen “discussions” on how poorly I treat every laptop I’ve ever had. How I tend to “destroy” them (FYI, breaking the screen is NOT destruction. Nor is frying the hard drive). Most recently I have had some “fragility issues” with my power cord. I may or may not have broken at least six of these things during my dazzling laptop career. Mister has had it up to here with me and my broken laptop cords (it’s really not my fault they are so shoddily made!) I will now be relegated to using the kids computer, he announced last week.

Which made his gift to me for his birthday this week that much sweeter.

At church we are doing a “friendship week”.  Everyone who is interested is given a secret family similar to theirs (in other words, some little old widow isn’t going to get stuck with us and our six kids) that they are to do nice things for all week (“nice things” usually meaning goodies).  This is so wonderfully up my alley.  First of all, I love having someone to bake for.  It gives me a several days of making cookies and bread and other such delights.  I love that.

I especially like Friendship Week because my love language is gifts.  Oh man, do I love presents.  They don’t have to be expensive presents.  As a matter of fact, I don’t really care much for expensive presents.  I really just want something tangible that says, “I care about you”;   Something that I can hold in my hands that is proof that someone likes me. Mister understood that from the beginning without me even having to explain it.  He is a stellar gift giver. He is forever bringing home flowers and little presents.  I love it and I love him for doing it. Unfortunately there have been several lousy gift givers in my life that still don’t get it, but let’s just move along.

This morning as I was backing out of the garage I spied a gift bag next to the front door,  meaning our secret family had struck again.  I was so thrilled and excited that I jumped out of the car and ran to the porch to check it out.

Without putting the car in park.  That’s how excited I was.

I still didn’t understand what I’d done even though I heard a loud boom. The loud boom of my car driving itself into the garage door. With my children inside.

Good gravy, woman.  It’s just stuff!  Relax!

But I love presents so.

If you are my secret person, thank you!  I’m still super happy even though I spent the last hour hammering the dent out of my garage door.

It was Mister’s birthday last week. The poor guy is just dying because he is in his forties. I know! It’s super old (just kidding. I’m only a year and a half from the big four-oh myself).

I wanted to make his birthday really special so I gave him the best present I could think of (C’mon, you guys, I couldn’t blog about the other best present.  This blog is rated PG-13.)

Don’t laugh! You can’t possibly understand how much I hate doing the laundry (and with six kids there is a lot of laundry). It has caused many a fight around here and Mister actually fired me a couple of years ago from touching his laundry (I don’t hang his things up the right way or dry stuff on the proper temperature. Whatevs! This was my response, “wait, you’re telling me that my punishment for shrinking your shirt is that I’m no longer allowed to do your laundry? All riiiiight!!!”)

The kids do pitch in quite a bit, but their version of “doing the laundry” is rather shoddy (sorting is optional, and delivery to a person’s room means throwing it on their floor, then walking over the top of it).  So I will step in, ever magnanimous, and make sure it is done well.  No, not just done well but done perfectly.  

I’ll let you know in January how it went.  If I haven’t worked my fingers into bloody stumps, that is.

Where has Jennie been, you may be wondering.

Or not.

We went to Phoenix to visit the in-laws. It went pretty well, considering there were 14 people with various codependent/bossy/dysfunctional/passive aggressive personality traits under one roof. 

The weather was lovely, the pool was warm and the food was plentiful and fattening. I even reached my goal to abstain from Mountain Dew until Thanksgiving (our reunion was beautiful, in case you were wondering, but will be short-lived. I’m going to be going easy on The Sauce through the holidays and will be giving it up again for my New Year’s Resolution. Not permanently, mind you; I’m not insane.  Like most unhealthy relationships Mountain Dew and I just have to break up from time to time.)

I actually woke up early on Black Friday.  Not to go shopping, really.  Just because I had three Mtn. Dews the day before and that stuff kicks my digestion into high gear, if you catch my drift.  Since I was awake I figured I might as well take advantage of the sales and I set out for the mall (going to the mall at 5 am was great.  Everyone was in sweats and ponytails.  By lunchtime, though, things changed and I was the only homely, smelly one left.  Apparently everyone else had gone back to bed).

At some point during the vacation I decided we would be doing family photos.  These are always a big production with us.  I do super matchy outfits, much to the dismay of everyone involved.  Mister threw the biggest fit of the entire family.  This year he was particularly heinous about it even though all he was required to wear was a black shirt. A black shirt! Big deal!  Let me just cut to the chase and tell you that the pictures were a gigantic flop.  An epic fail.  I’m this close to picking the shot where everyone is either squinting or making a weird face and putting that one on our cards. Although I’m pretty sure everyone on our Christmas card list is a friend on Facebook, so really what’s even the point?

But on Friday morning I didn’t know any of this, so I set out to assemble all of our attire for the black-and-white-and-patterny photo shoot.  I found everything I was looking for and even scored a bunch of Gymbucks and possibly our sweaters for next year’s Christmas picture as well.

I met up with Mister’s mom and we picked out the kids’ Christmas presents.  I personally will be forgoing anything fun this year and am asking for barstools instead.  Yep, it’s going to be a lame Christmas for Jennie.  

Barstools.

(Maybe if I’m super lucky I might get a rug for the family room too.)

It’s almost as pathetic as the fact that several of my children’s “big presents” will be fillings for their cavities.  If that doesn’t make them hate Santa, I don’t know what will.

Finn, Arabella, York and India with their cousins Corinne and Daisy
Finn spent just about every day fishing in the little lake behind the house. Grandpa was a very patient teacher.

Dear Teacher,

I couldn’t help but notice that heaping bounty of gifts on your desk today.  Especially when you decided to open them all with the children seated around you like a second-grade baby shower. Here is what I will be giving you this Christmas season:
Your salary
Love,
Mrs. W.
UPDATE: OK, you guys, I’m joking. I always give the teachers a gift.  When I want to.  Not on Christmas and not every single time the room mother asks me to which is once a month, I swear (and, call me chintzy, but I encourage my kids to make the teacher a present).  I think teachers are great and they should earn lots more money. So lighten up, people.