7QT: And So The Long Day Wore On

One

Family argument last night about whether or not to hang stockings a week early.

“You have to hang them on Christmas Eve” says Matt piously.

“Ok,” I say, “Explain that slowly and carefully to Marigold in a language that she can understand.”

“I want to hang my stocking,” says Marigold, her arms full of all the stockings.

“Sit on his lap and pat his face,” I tell her, “say, 'Daddy, can I please hang my stocking?'”

She climbs on his lap and pats his face and Matt says, “fine, whatever, break all the traditions. Hang all the stockings.”

But it's me that has to hang all the stockings. And it'll be me that has to stuff them too, while Matt watches and says unhelpful things like, “you shouldn't do it so angrily like that.”

Two

But at least the tree is decorated. And at least we did manage to get one. Our plan of going to cut one in the pure Binghamton forest was thwarted repeatedly by Matt getting the flu. On Sunday he was way too sick. On Monday Tuesday and Wednesday he was way too sick. On Thursday he was more or less too sick but the anxiety of six children beginning to believe that we would never. get. a. tree. over came his illness and he hauled himself up and we went to Lowes. Well, first we drove through Dunkin Donuts and bought two dozen glazed and six small hot chocolates with flimsy and terrifying lids. So that was super fun. Each child in the car with the hot chocolate and the donut and me shouting at internvals, “Don't Spill! Don't Spill!”

Then we finally got to Lowes and discovered that they really really didn't want to sell us a tree. There were only four and a half dried up trees left and they intended to keep them no matter how hard we tried to wrest one away. Stood around for a time, time, time and a half waiting for someone to come out to the tree section. Finally gave up and took the tree inside and forced them to take our money and then all of us sat in the car while poor sick Matt tried, in the bitter insane wind, to attach it to the car.

Drove slowly and carefully home and collapsed.

Three

The fitting of the tree into the living room meant removing at least one piece of furniture. When we got married I gave Matt a big fat bible that he wore out in about a year, and he gave me a beautiful desk. It's one of those small splendid dark wood ones with lots of little compartments for things and beautifully carved legs. All these years it has sat in the living room, lending grace and joy, and serving as the house and play arena for the Russian nesting dolls and the Swedish horses. I really need two more Russian nesting dolls and three more Swedish horses, but that will be for some other year. The little girls drag the little rocking chair up to the desk and perch there, balancing, playing with the dolls, gently smacking the legs of the desk with the rocker. I sit on the couch and say, “be careful…..be careful…..Be Careful…….BE CAREFUL GET DOWN GO DO SOMETHING ELSE.”

“I wish you'd cut the legs down on my desk so I can use it,” I said to Matt as we were muscling it through the kitchen and into the office.

“Really?” he said, “That's going to be so complicated.”

“Well. If you did that then my feet would touch the floor and I could finally have it as my own desk to use instead of for the children.”

“Is that why you don't use it? he asked, “Why didn't you tell me when we got married.”

“I didn't want to hurt your feelings,” I said, “I was all in love and stuff.”

“Oh,” he said sadly and went back to bed, exhausted.

Four

After the tree excursion and the furniture rearrange I punished myself further and made candy with the children. It was the Alton Brown salted carmel recipe and we did it without a candy thermometer and with a lot of tension, on my part. Basically I didn't let them touch anything or do anything but I did let them all stand on stools and watch and then put their finger in the cooled pan afterward. By his descriptions of what it should look like at each stage we endured fairly well until the end when there was only a temperature and no description. Blast it all. Fearing to over cook it I definitely took it out too early but hopefully not so early that it won't be ok. It was still setting up when we went to bed. Surprisingly not too hard to do, and better than making a lot of cookies. Next year maybe, maybe we'll face down the cookies. But don't get your hopes up.

Five

Then I got it into my head to put hangers on the backs of picture frames that need to be hung. What an exasperating task! Matt came in to find me on the floor swearing quietly and sucking on my fingers.

“Ok, you do it,” I said, “if you're going to mock me.” So he did, wretched and competent man, while I coped with the child who has been at the center of every argument for three days. It's so dicey, the feelings of children. They either need a hug or a lecture, but knowing which is such a mystery most of the time.

“Is something else the matter?” I kept asking. But she kept doggedly to each individual wrong and wouldn't look deeper and broader to see any true troubles. Honestly, after she had sobbed for quite a long time she totally cheered up. Is that how it is now? That I already have females that just need a good solid cry? Yay.

Six

So then I set about to make pancakes and the first thing that I did, was, and you won't believe this because neither did I, I went over calmly and picked up the big jar of flour in the way that I always do, and I turned around slowly and carefully, because, you know, I was holding a big jar of flour and so I wasn't just going to whip around really fast, that would be dangerous, and then I paused, for just a moment, and then, get this, I dropped the whole thing, smack on the floor, and the jar broke and the flour spread itself gently and completely all over the kitchen. So then, before I made pancakes, I swept up flour for a long time. A long long time. And then Elphine had pity on me and took over and swept and then wiped up the floor with a wet cloth, and Matt made the most light gorgeous omelets with cheese, avacado, pancetta, tomato and pickled jalapeño. And we opened a bottle of wine, because we were going to decorate the wretched tree.

Seven

Have a lovely weekend. And go read the quick takes at This Ain't the Lyceum. Just google it. It comes right up.