Chrissie: day twenty-five

 

We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.

Maya Angelou, Amazing Peace

To one and all, from all of us - Merry Christmas.

chrissie: day twenty-two

Today we are writing lists, dashing to shops, modifiying expectations, preparing for road trips, cooking and just generally doing the Christmas Shuffle.  We are truly in countdown mode now.  Our spirits bounce up and down as we negotiate it all - teaching Tiny all the songs of Christmas, paddling neck-deep in grading (my OTL), spontaneous outings for ice-cream and Christmas lights viewing, some homesickness (mine), salvaging Christmas ornaments from the dog's mouth, daily visits to the neighbourhood 16-foot blow up Santa - it's a complex time.

Amidst it all - the wrapping paper, the sherries, the endless rounds of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (traditional and Aussie versions) - we brought a lonely Christmas tree in from the cold and gave it pride of place in our own.

'Twas a bright (but bitterly cold and windy) day for Chrissie Tree hunting in the Canadian wilderness.

'Intrepid' is their middle name.

He's a lumberjack and he's okay.

A sensitive, new-age lumberjack, to be sure.

Complimentary wild hot ciders for cockle warming.

Ready for the snow.

Friends trimmed while we cooked and supervised.

Scoping out the efforts seasonal.

 

International harmony - on the Chrissie Tree as in life.

 

Hope you are faring well in this busy time.  Warm wishes from us to you.

 

 

 

chrissie: day nineteen

From all reports, it's not only cookies that maketh the Canadian Christmas experience.  Other sweet treats also abound.  Hot cocoa, with 43 mini-marshmallows, is a case in point.

I determined this year that we would greet the precious space between Tiny falling asleep and us falling asleep with a little, wind-down, Christmas beverage ritual.  In lieu of drinking a bottle of red wine every single night, I figured that the next most appropriately seasonal and festive thing to drink would be hot cocoa.  And I was right.  Here's the recipe we have perfected this Christmas.

Hot Cocoa Worth Coming to Canada For

start with 1 heaped teaspoon of cocoa
mix with a small amount of boiling water to make a paste
stir in half a cup of milk (I use vanilla rice milk because I'm radical and edgy like that)
heat (in the microwave if you've not decided they are evil)
fill remainder of mug with boiling water
stir in one generous teaspoon of honey
sprinkle liberally with cinnamon and ginger
sprinkle very, very modestly with cayenne pepper
grab large handfuls of mini-marshmallows and fill top of mug to overflowing
sip whilst chatting idly about the day's events with your loved one(s)


PS: Aussies - I know it's hot, but just try it anyway.  You can always follow it with a cold beer.

chrissie: day seventeen

 

 

christmas
lights
freezing
whizzing
cold
children
spellbound
bells
sound
train
tears
frozen

canada

chrissie: day sixteen

The Twelve Days of Christmas story book.  It's a thriller, alright.

~

chrissie: day fifteen

I should not be left alone with cookie dough.

These are mint chocolate cookies (gluten and dairy-free)

I am Australian.  We don't do cookies.  For starters, they are called biscuits, or bikkies to be precise.  And we certainly don't bake them for Christmas.  Fruit cake, yes.  Bikkies, no.  However, due to the uncertainty of our future, I figured there was no time like the present to hurl myself head first into every Canadian Christmas tradition I could think of.  Turns out, I can only really think of one - baking cookies.  (There might be some ice skating in there somewhere too, but I'll pretend I don't know that in case someone tries to encourage me to do it.)

What I'm unsure of is the Canadian tradition for eating them.  As I was tapping into my inner-Canadian Christmas spirit I was sure I heard a voice say, "Eat five.  Straight out of the oven."  And so I did.  Not wanting to mess with tradition, and not having a Canadian to hand to coach me on this*, I just had to follow the voice. 

It was tough.  I regret it a tiny bit.  But traditions are traditions.

This is a Christmas Moose (yet to be festively iced) in honour of, well, a Canadian Christmas of course.

*My OTL is away tonight.  The jury he has been serving on for the last two weeks (yep, the fun never stops around here) has been sequestered and he is right now, at this moment, in Lock Down for Top Secret Deliberations.  That leaves me, Tiny and the dog - none of whom know anything about Canadian Christmas traditions.  So help me out, my lovely Canadian friends and family.  What are the must-do Canadian Christmas activities? Time is tight, but I'm sure I can fit a few new traditions into the mix.

chrissie: day fourteen

My Christmas groove has gone a bit wonky of late and I'm wondering if that's because we've reached the Hump Days of Christmas.  You know how it is, the original excitement of December 1st - legal Christmas carolling, a whole new world of food treats, the excitement (and angst) of present buying and making, the adrenaline rush of getting things posted in the nick of time - all becomes an exhausting morass that is less Peace on Earth and more Jangled Bells.  I do believe this happens every year. My hopes and expectations of Christmas inevitably butt up against my actual life and the everyday mundanities that require time, effort and attention.  Suddenly it all becomes a bit much and I find myself wondering where the Christmas spirit is hiding.  (Not to be confused with the Christmas spirits which are up on top of the pantry and which may well come down for a wee sipping a little later in the evening.)

Somewhere in my life I equated Christmas-time with happiness.  I certainly loved it as a kid.  However, that childish take on Christmas (where all of life's major decisions were buffered by my parents and all I had to do was enjoy the presents and the food) continues unrealistically into adulthood and brings paradoxical pressures to be happy,  enchanted, and excited despite the fact that I now have to organise it, all while keeping our usual life afloat.  I pondered all this while folding towels this afternoon and tried to imagine what Christmas would ideally look like to me.  Many scenes flashed through my head but I think there was a general theme of quiet joy, nestled in front of an open fire (or in the shade on a lovely beach), reading books, eating fruit cake, enjoying my charming and well behaved family, with a background accompaniment of boys choirs trilling on festively about snow and the baby Jesus. There would also be presents, and wine, and probably roast chicken at some point (and definitely no laundry to do), but my reverie was broken by Tiny needing me to tuck Teddy into the pile of clean sheets so that he (Teddy) could go to sleep.

I'm not sure where I'm headed with this little wander through Christmas past and present, other than to say that nothing's perfect, we plod on, there is no open fire place (or delicious beach) but there is a trilling boys choir on the stereo and a good Christmas murder mystery to read before bedtime and perhaps that is the best I can ask for at this time.  Tomorrow is another day and another opportunity for quiet peace, happiness, and Christmas enchantment.  I'll let you know how I go.

chrissie: day thirteen

How did we get to Day Thirteen?! Lordy, as my mother would say.

Now, I don't want this to be seen as a habit.  Or a problem.  Or as a source of Christmas Concern.  However, instead of putting up the Christmas tree (which is leaning forlornly against the back fence, abandoned and alone at this festive time), we eased the pain of thinking up ever new and interesting ways of touting the talents of my OTL (for his billionth job application - which is most definitely Not a Christmas activity) by drinking.  Very, very good sherry, as luck would have it.  Just one small, festive glass.  Enough to take the edge off and remind us that it surely is a time to be merry* (even if our future is somewhat uncertain).

* Never fear, we don't turn exclusively to alcohol to remind us that it is time to be merry.  Sometimes we eat chocolate.  Rarely, we do both. But that is only for very dire circumstances.

chrissie: day seven

The first presents were wrapped and sent to Australia today.  There are more in the pipeline, but we will have to remorgage the house to send them. Canada Post obviously carts them o'er the seas in a golden chariot (which would, come to think of it, explain the delays).

As a result, Tiny "helped" with his first present wrapping.  (Having experienced his first present unwrapping [that he remembers] last month.)  It released a trickle of confusion from him which has seen me fielding questions all day: "Tiny* open presents?  Tiny has some presents?"  He was an interested participant, though, and I feel relieved to have escaped with only a minor crumpling of the wrapping paper and a mere 30cm or so of unuseable, twisted sticky tape.  And that was just from my bumbling.  Tiny was a model of decorum.

Which made for a nice break from what my OTL has just this night coined "turdlerhood"** rather than toddlerhood.  But that is for another post.  We are out of wine tonight.

We Christmas on, regardless of the challenges!

* You can substitute his real name here, for all those who know it.
** Please excuse the repeated use of such an unsightly word as "turd" on the blog.  Generally, I like to swear  and use base words in private, with only my nearest and dearest to look upon me with disapproval and a degree of tut-tutting.  However, sometimes, some words just work like no other.

chrissie: day five

I was one of those mothers today.  One of those mothers that carry their screaming, hitting, wailing, thrashing toddler across the (endless, wasteland that is the Canadian Tire) car park to plonk them unceremoniously into their car seat.  One of those mothers with a set look on her face - endurance, barely concealed annoyance, forbearance.  I've seen her before in shopping centres around the world, and today was my turn. 

Tiny has slowly been becoming two.  Not just in age, but in disposition.  There has been the odd tantrum, a clear increase in willfulness, some wiliness, a degree of shouting and carrying on when needs aren't met - immediately, that is.  We have done well, really, to weather the squalls as they've blown up.  However, today, with Christmas and all its pressing demands and needling uncertainties on my mind, I had nothing to give.  I just wanted straight-up cooperation; compliance, obedience, call it what you will.  Sure, I made a few attempts.  There was hide-and-seek amongst the clothing racks; there were precious minutes spent patting the dog mannequin and talking about woofing and other such engaging things.  But, just as I was called upon to investigate the Great! Big! Bapoom Cleaner! (in minute detail complete with sound effects), I just couldn't do it.  I couldn't do it.  I just wanted to find the key rings and get going to the swimming pool.  Is that too much to ask?

Well, you know the drill - floppiness, shouting, wild back arching, arm flailing which coincided with my head.  We were a Christmas spectacle to be sure, entertaining customers all the way from Housewares to Sports and Leisure.  And that was before we got to the car park.  Needless, to say, as the day struggled on, so did Mummy's humour. 

Luckily there are a few, surefire restoratives in this world.

red, red whi-i-i-i-ne

Maynard's Wine Gums wrested from a madman's foaming jaws

hot chocolate in a seasonally appropriate mug

Looking forward to a fresh start tomorrow.  Perhaps I'll bring out the bapoom cleaner and we can talk about its every merit over breakfast.

chrissie: day three

Tonight, I sang.  I sang my little heart out, concentrating like a border collie on my little flock of musical notes (just in case one escaped and was blurted out inappropriately).  And when the chamber orchestra began, I thought I wouldn't be able to take a breath.  There is magic in that.

Just listen.  I know you're busy.  I know classical music might not be your thing.  But just give this two minutes of your day.  You won't regret it.  I promise.

Merry.

PS:  This is the best version I could find on YouTube.  It's not my choir.  We are much better.  Cough.

chrissie: day two

So, in a fit of Chrissie spirit (chrissie spirrie?), I decided that it was important to take something seasonal to the mum's group gathering this morning.  Never let it be said that I let Christmas down, I tell you.  Inspired by my new partial addiction to Pinterest, I stumbled across these and felt a little tingle.

True to form, an hour before bedtime, in the one-foot-square space that is my kitchen preparation area, with not one, single, appropriate tool to carry it off (including an oven that works properly), and having never attempted this before in my life, I set to, to bring little meringue Christmas Trees to life.

In the clear light of day, while we peered at the cooled creations atop the stove, we agreed that perhaps Christmas Tree was a little bit of a stretch and that Christmas (cough) Turd* might be more appropriate.  However, with a little dusting of icing sugar "snow" and a cheerful red napkin wrapped around them, there was almost enough to distract from such an association.  Indeed, the toddlers - whose insistent, sugar-searching antennae were up throughout the morning - cared not one iota.

Onwards and upwards with Christmas, I say.

*Please excuse the necessary but very unseasonal turn of phrase.

chrissie: day one

It is the first day of the Christmas season (I have made a case for this elsewhere), and celebrations must ensue.

It has taken a few years to encourage my OTL into the full Christmas Season Experience.  Sure, he was a generous gift giver.  Sure he is never shy with the loving.  However, his reclusive bachelor days had left him parched of full Christmas spirit and it has taken a number of years to fill the well, as it were.  To be fair, he has been a quick study and, this year, I think he's finally got it.  He was heard, recently, planning not one but several Christmas baking days for the weekends to come, after all.  Bless him.

And then there is the issue of Tiny.  To be charged with the responsibility of creating Christmas Traditions for your child is truly a great task.  There is the whole Santa debate - to make-believe or not - and then there's a seemingly endless list of possible Christmas traditions that could be incorporated into one family's affairs.  Should we put an orange in a clog, for instance, as the Dutch do?  Should we dress in disguise and impose ourselves on our neighbours for alcoholic beverages, as the Newfoundlanders do?  Should we make swimming at the beach on Boxing Day mandatory, as the Australians do?  It is, indeed, a difficult set of decisions.

Luckily, traditions can grow and change over time, and today was a mix of old and new.
 

A Christmas coffe from a large unnamed multinational coffee conglomerate. (new)

The obligatory Christmas magazine treat. (old)

The crayon-picture-a-day advent calendar for Tiny. (new)

Special Christmas fare (pikelets with cream cheese and smoked salmon). (old)

More special Christmas fare (garlic prawns and salad).  (old)

Making very short work of it. (old)

The lighting of the (one humble string of) Christmas lights. (new)

Love. (new and old)

Here's to traditions.  May they bind us, warm us and show us the way.


PS:  Turn up the volume, grab your loved ones and take a turn around the room.