by Kathy Brasby | Dec 24, 2020 | Christmas, Family, Humor, Stories
This story is one of my favorites about a Christmas we shared with our family several years ago. I hope you enjoy it:
Many years ago, when most of the kids were still at home, we put together a Christmas plan one year: We’ll use the money for gifts to put together a ski trip, condo and all, for right after Christmas.
The kids bought into this with great gusto because they loved skiing. All went well until Christmas day when it was time to leave for the trip: their father felt a little guilty at the lack of gifts under the tree.
So he suggested a special outing on the way to the condo in the Colorado mountains. We pulled away from our house on the afternoon of Christmas, heading for some major snow.
“Let’s stop at that nice steak house on the interstate,” he said. He loves that eating spot to this day, even though it’s now closed. We’ve eaten at the new restaurant out of nostalgia for the old place.
But back to my story. We pulled in at the steak house after savoring tangy prime rib and steaming mashed potatoes in our imagination for an hour. They were closed. It was, after all, Christmas day.
Hmmm. We hadn’t thought of that, so we continued to the next town and pulled in, hoping the Chinese restaurant there might work well.
Closed.
We were starting to see a pattern. But we had five kids in the car, and the Christmas cookies were wearing off. They were restless.
“Let’s try a fast-food place.” My husband had set his heart on a special mealtime family gathering, but his stomach was growling, too.
All closed.
Grocery stores were closed. Walmart was closed.
Did we have anything to eat in the car? We started to take stock of any energy bars that might have been left in coat pockets. Any half-eaten cookies? I wondered about the crumbs under the toddler’s car seat. Starving kids makes one delirious sometimes.
Just then, my husband spotted a 7-Eleven convenience store. It was open.
We turned the kids loose. “Find something to eat.” We didn’t even add our usual “try to find something healthy.” Just quiet those growling stomachs somehow.
The kids grabbed chips and popcorn and gallons of fountain drinks. If you can’t have a ribeye, apparently a beef stick and trail mix work well, too.
Their parents have felt guilty for years for not having enough foresight to avoid such a disappointment. We wanted to give the kids a nice steak dinner. Their special dinner included candy bars, rubbery hard-boiled eggs, and who knows how many Twinkies.
But I have been assured by our older son not to worry.
“I got a fistful of dill pickles,” he said. “Best Christmas dinner ever!”
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by Kathy Brasby | Dec 9, 2020 | Christmas, Family, Humor, Stories
My mother’s love language included Christmas baking. From pfeffernusse to fudge, from peanut brittle to Christmas stollen, Mom always served up trays and trays of sweet goodies on Christmas eve.
So this story came about because I thought a mother’s love should include Christmas cookies. I keep telling myself that, anyway.
The cookie cutter set I found one November seemed to fit that goal. The box seduced me with photos of beautiful cookies in the shape of Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in a manger. A little piping of frosting, a few sparkles in the right place, and my family would have a unique nativity set.
This was not ours. This was what I dreamed ours would look like.
And the best part was that we could do this project as a family with everyone helping.
I bought the set.
Yes, I knew we wouldn’t get the cookies quite as perfect as the photos. We had a two-year-old at the time. He would produce a cute but goofy little cookie.
It was OK. I could overlook the children’s immature attempts.
However, I forgot to factor in their mother.
I knew we were in trouble when I pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven. But there was no time to do another batch. The family was waiting.
Baby Jesus in the manger resembled a toasted marshmallow.
The sheep – and I’d made lots of them – all were blimps. Some had short fat legs but, since you couldn’t tell where the head was, the legs could have been prickles, too. Or maybe the head was.
Great. Christmas porcupines.
The camels’ longer legs had melded while baking.
“Is this a tree?” asked the six-year-old. Thanks, Dear.
The shepherds had morphed into tall planks of fencing. Or maybe a Volkswagen bug. It was hard to say.
Kneeling Joseph was now a giant S.
The kids were game, anyway. They slathered on frosting that was so thin that the blues and oranges for the wise men’s gowns flowed together, making a muddy brown.
Well, I thought those cookies were the wise men because of the lumps at the top, which I identified as crowns. Maybe they were cows with horns, in which case the muddy brown frosting made more sense.
There was a stable printed on the back of the box that could be assembled as the backdrop. I tossed that idea after our older son frosted an angel as though it were a donkey. I couldn’t see displaying these peculiar little figures.
When we were done, with sticky frosting on our fingers and sparkles drifting to the floor, I studied the blobs of icing and cookie.
“Well, this didn’t work out quite as I had hoped,” I told the family.
My husband surveyed the table, surrounded by sets of eager young eyes, and picked up a cookie. “Then we’d better destroy the evidence.”
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by Kathy Brasby | Dec 30, 2019 | Christmas, Family, Humor, Stories
The Gift of A Ski Trip
Many years ago, when most of the kids were still at home, we put together a Christmas plan one year: you won’t get much for Christmas gifts, but we’ll go skiing for two days after Christmas, condo and all.
The kids bought into this with great gusto because they loved skiing. All went well until Christmas when it was time to leave for the trip: their father felt a little guilty at the lack of gifts under the tree.
So he suggested a special outing on the way to the condo in the Colorado mountains. We pulled away from our house on the afternoon of Christmas, heading for some major snow.
How About A Christmas Steak?
“Let’s stop at that nice steak house on the interstate,” he said. He loves that eating spot to this day, even though it’s now closed. We’ve eaten at the new restaurant out of nostalgia for the old place, I think.
But back to my story. We pulled in at the steak house after savoring prime rib and mashed potatoes in our imagination for an hour. They were closed. It was, after all, Christmas day.
Hmmm. We hadn’t thought of that, so we continued to the next town and pulled in, hoping the Chinese restaurant there might work well.
Closed.
Christmas Closures
We were starting to get a clue, finally. But we had five kids in the car, and the Christmas cookies were wearing off. They were restless.
“Let’s try a fast-food place.” My husband had set his heart on a special mealtime family gathering, but his stomach was growling, too.
Closed.
Grocery stores were closed. Walmart was closed.
We started to take stock of any energy bars that might have been left in coat pockets. Any half-eaten cookies? I wondered about the crumbs under the toddler’s car seat. Starving kids makes one delirious sometimes.
Oh, Thank Heaven…
Just then, my husband spotted a 7-Eleven convenience store. It was open.
We turned the kids loose. “Find something to eat.”
Because there’s virtually nothing healthy in a snack place like that, the kids were not bound to a balanced meal. They grabbed chips and popcorn and gallons of fountain drinks.
Their parents have felt guilty for years for not having enough foresight to avoid such a disappointment. We wanted to give them a nice steak dinner. Their special dinner included candy bars, rubbery hard-boiled eggs and who knows how many Twinkies.
But I have been assured by our older son not to worry.
“I got a fistful of dill pickles,” he said. “Best Christmas dinner ever!”
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by Kathy Brasby | Dec 9, 2019 | Christmas, Family, Humor, Stories
A Cookie Cutter Set
Long before Pinterest could puncture my creative bubble, there was the nativity Christmas cookie cutter set.
I sometimes call Pinterest the dream site: I can only do those projects in my dreams.
Not my nativity set, obviously, but these might be better.
Christmas baking has always been a special time of sharing holiday love in our family. I keep telling myself that, anyway. Over and over.
When I had seen the cookie cutter set on display, it seemed to fit that goal. The box seduced me with photos of beautiful cookies in the shape of Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in a manger. A little piping of frosting, a few sparkles in the right place, and we would have a unique nativity set.
And the best part was that we could do this project as a family with everyone helping.
A Special Family Project
I bought the set.
Yes, I knew we wouldn’t get the cookies quite as perfect as the photos. We had a two-year-old at the time. I knew he would produce a cute but goofy little cookie.
It was OK. I could overlook the children’s immature attempts. They were children, after all, and still developing their fine motor skills.
I forgot to factor in their mother.
I Knew We Were in Trouble
The family had gathered around our dining room table, frosting and decorations at the ready, waiting as I pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven.
Baby Jesus in the manger resembled a toasted marshmallow.
The sheep – and I’d made lots of them – all were blimps. Some had short fat legs but, since you couldn’t tell where the head was, the legs could have been prickles, too.
Great. Christmas porcupines. Or cantaloupe.
The camels’ longer legs had grown together while baking.
“Is this a tree?” asked the six-year-old, pointing to a former camel cookie.
The shepherds had morphed into tall planks of fencing. Or maybe a Volkswagen bug. It was hard to say.
Kneeling Joseph was now a giant S.
This Didn’t Slow Them Down
The kids were game. They slathered on frosting that was so thin that the blues and oranges for the wise men’s gowns flowed together, making a muddy brown.
Well, I think those were the wise men because of the lumps at the top, which I identified as crowns. Maybe they were cows, in which case the muddy brown frosting made more sense.
There was a stable printed on the back of the box that could be assembled as the backdrop. I tossed that idea after our older son frosted an angel as though it were a donkey. I couldn’t see displaying these peculiar little figures.
When we were done, with sticky frosting on our fingers and sparkles drifting to the floor, I studied the blobs of icing and cookie.
“Well, this didn’t work out quite as I had hoped,” I told the family.
My husband surveyed the table, surrounded by sets of eager young eyes, and picked up a cookie. “Then we’d better destroy the evidence.”
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