…and I need a couple of Tums.
Seriously. I went looking for some this afternoon and instead I found chocolates.
Holy moly, talk about rich food. Last night we had lobster tail, beef filet, wild mushroom and sausage stuffing, potatoes, cranberry relish, pineapple mush, crab salad as an appetizer, crescent rolls, spinach souffle, the list goes on. This was AFTER a lighter meal of artichoke soup and raclette (a swiss fondue-type tradition) the night before, and cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. I made it all (except the cranberry relish which was delicious and made by my husband), way too much of it. We have so much food in this house it’s absurd. And we’re saturated…..with…um richness.
Last night before bed my husband made a comment about his stomach being a little upset. I asked him why and when he said the food was very rich (this was after giving me high compliments during the meal), I got a little defensive about it. The truth is it was a humdinger of a meal but very rich, so we joked about it all day today when we were eating leftovers. We kept skirting around the “R” word, laughing because I was allowed to say it, but not him. Last night I made the mistake of having like three glasses of eggnog before meal time because I poured a whole punchbowl full of eggnog with rum and only one other person was drinking eggnog. I had waited until Christmas Eve to buy or drink eggnog, so it felt like a novelty. By the time I sat down to eat I felt like there were half a dozen eggs sitting in my stomach. I had this lobster tail and big hunk of meat on my plate and couldn’t touch them, instead I chowed down on the side dishes.
The recipes, by the way, were all great. We enjoyed them all, and I’ll keep them in my repertoire now. After we put the girls to bed on Christmas Eve, I was really excited because we had such a sweet time together. My goal was to do as much cooking as I could ahead of time so I could relax Christmas day. I put a bad Christmas movie (Lifetime Channel, something I haven’t turned on in quite a while) on and started cooking, and cooking, and (yawn) cooking, until 11;00 or so. Then when I was starting to hit the wall, I faced the clean-up. It was taking a long run in one direction and realizing that you had to run all the way home after you had reached your limit. I did it…with another bad lifetime movie on in the background. Then I finished setting up for Christmas. It was a late night, but I’ll remember it for a long time (not the Lifetime movies, though). If you noticed me lurking frantically on your blog late on Christmas Eve, I was probably double checking a recipe.
Why am I talking about food so much? It’s not very inspiring or mommy bloggish, but I still feel like I have a big punchbowl of eggnog sitting in my stomach and I’m a little rusty at this blogging thing after taking so much time off these past weeks. Thanks to Leanne and Running 2K for nominating me over at the Best of Blog awards, a place to draw attention to blogs with smaller readerships than the big guys. I go over there to nominate people and feel overwhelmed and humbled, like a shy girl at a big party….with a stomach full of eggnog. It sure is a good place to find new blogs, though. Have a look, if you haven’t already. There is also still time to nominate someone you think deserves attention.
Our Christmas was wonderful and lovely. At the same time I am ready to clear my refrigerator of the rich foods and get all the Christmas clutter cleared away. I am not sure if i can handle six more days of Hannakah. I need to fast for two days before I’ll be able to think about brisket and latkes. I have a Hannakah party here on Friday.
We lit the candles on the Mennorah for the first time tonight and Hannah started singing Happy Birthday. Rachel was fascinated by the candles and after dinner watched them until the very last candle flickered out. Hannah was terrified that Rachel was going to burn herself. “Scare ME….burning!” she’d scream every time Rachel’s hands touched the counter near the Mennorahs. It was dramatic, challenging and lovely all at the same time.
Does anyone have advice on digital cameras? We received Christmas money from my in-laws and are looking for a camera that has great shutter speed and can handle close-ups. My camera really sucks. I took pictures of the food and my house (to show the new paint) but they aren’t very good. So….give me your input, please, if you can help me out.
I’ll leave you with a letter from me to Santa written to ease Rachel’s fears about Santa entering our house. She wanted him to leave the presents on the porch and couldn’t sleep on Christmas Eve, worried that he would get confused and come into the house anyway. When I dictated this note to Santa while sitting on her bed, you should have seen the relief and happiness on her face. It was like suddenly everything fell into place for her, and she was finally able to relax and settle down for the night.
“Dear Santa,
We love you very much. We know you are very busy. No need to come in. Mom will bring the presents inside.
Thank you very much. Please enjoy this cookie and say hello to Rudolph….”
This Santa thing is a challenge for me, coming from a German tradition of opening presents on Christmas Eve. Please don’t think I’m the grinch, but I find it a bit stressful to lie to my kids on this one. Yes, yes, it’s all good fun and I swear I do my part and give them a good time, and I hope, wonderful memories, but it’s still hard for me. A few months ago, Rachel started saying with strong, innocent convinction, “God’s not real.” I insisted God was real, but she continued to insist God was not. Finally, I quelled it by looking her in the eye and VERY strongly stating “Rachel, God IS real!” She got it. It’s not that I expect her to go through her life without questioning God’s existence. She will have her own journey, just as I did. It’s just that I want her to know that when I looked her in the eye and told her God was real, I meant it; I believed it. Just as I want her to know what my values are, to give her that part of me. So when she asks me questions about Santa, I don’t want to look her in the eye with the same conviction that I looked her in the eye with when I told her God was real. Instead I try to return a question with a question. “How did Santa know that I wanted a fairy doll?” she asks. “We wrote him a letter on the computer, didn’t we?” I ask back. It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not the truth. And it will all work itself out, I know. I’m overthinking it. It’s just my mind swirling around, as my stomach aches from eggnog and chocolate. I’m just trying to get a little more comfortable, while I’m enjoying the ride. No more eggnog for me.
