Christmas Eve

The last two days have been…like magic from The Good Faeries. We’ve all been out (way, way out) to Jim and Toy’s house and the kids have played their dirty little socks off. The Lane Rock Farm is full of woods, three huge dogs, and hills. Oh, and rocks. Jim made my two munchkins knives (“two super-cool butter knives, coming up!”), so the Adventures have been grand, indeed. (check out Jim’s YouTube channel: rockfarmknives)

Saving the World Indiana Jones Style makes a kid hungry, so I did a bit of cooking.

The first night, I made chicken Marsala and garlic potatoes. The second night, I made fajitas with guacamole and poco de…pico DES….salsa. Toy loves fresh guacamole and it brought me joy to watch her do the Yummy Food Dance. We all ate till we just about busted. Then we ate GIANT Bouchons that I made in a popover pan instead of the small timbales I usually use. These things were ginormous. (pictures and recipes will have to wait…sorry).

While the kids played and I cooked, we watched all the Harry Potters. All. Of. Them.

It was bleeding brilliant, but now I’m barking mad to gander the newest flick.

Today, my hubby and kids are making cookies (Great Grandpa Wilson’s Favorite Sugar Cookies) and gingerbread houses and I’m just watching. Just smiling and taking pictures and drinking coffee.

Tonight is the Children’s Mass at St. Joseph’s. My kids will get squeaky clean, dressed up, and offer a gift to Baby Jesus. (a necessity for the women and babies at the local shelter for battered women). There will be a special homily where the kids go up with Father Dennis and talk about sheep, a star, and a manger. Santa will come in at the end of mass, ringing his bells all the way up from the back, causing silence and amazed stares from the kids. Santa will kneel at the crèche, make The Sign of The Cross, and exit with a quiet wave…off to deliver goodies. Or bags of coal.

Then we’ll have dinner and watch a Christmas Story (a red rider bb gun with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time) and White Christmas (the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby danced with Danny-effing Kay). The kids will squirm. They will fuss. They will take too long to fall asleep…

And I will both envy their innocent expectation of tomorrow morning and delight in the gift of their sparkling exuberance. I love the possibilities of Christmas Eve.

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