The Stocking

Starting yesterday, I decided I am going to write a blog every day.  I was originally going to try to follow a pattern.  For example, I'd share a Christmas memory on Mondays, recipe on Tuesdays, favorite song on Wednesdays, etc.  But I am just not that organized and I don't like locking myself into a "blogging schedule" where I have to write about a certain thing on a certain day even if I am more inspired to write about something else.  So, instead, I will share all of these things...recipes, favorite/least favorite songs, memories and anecdotes, etc.  I'll just write them as they come to me. 


Yesterday, I was excited to share a memory, and today I am going to share another one.  This one is pertaining to my Christmas stocking.  As a family, we never did have uniform stockings.  Each of us simply had stockings from wherever or whenever we got them.  My mom had made my sister's stocking, my parents' stockings had been ordered out of a magazine.  And mine? Well...

I had a red and white knit snoopy stocking (the exact same as the one pictured above).  I liked my stocking.  I liked snoopy.  There was just ONE problem! Every Christmas morning, when I'd wake up and go downstairs, everyone ELSE's stocking looked like cute little boots stuffed with goodies.

And mine was a stretched-out, misshapen sack almost touching the ground.  I didn't get why my stocking looked so strange when stuffed full of goodies while all the others were so cute! I'd love to provide a visual of the stark contrast in the stockings, but I don't have the stocking here and can't seem to find a picture online.  Who would take a picture of such an odd-looking thing anyway?

So, one Christmas, I decided it was time to ask for a new stocking.  I think I was about 7 or 8 years old and I'd just had enough Christmases of seeing my weird stocking in comparison to all the other cute ones.  My mom didn't seem to understand why I wanted a new stocking.  And I suppose that I must have been having trouble communicating my reasoning to her at the time.  I think I said something along the lines of "My stocking is weird." And she probably thought I felt I had outgrown snoopy.

So, we went to the mall to get a new stocking.  We found a kiosk where I picked out a purple and pink one with an ornament on it.  They even embroidered my name at the top.  I was SO excited! I had my own new stocking that SURELY would look BEAUTIFUL stuffed with goodies on Christmas morning.

I woke up excited the next morning and ran down the stairs only to find all of the other stockings still looked like stuffed boots and mine was sagging AGAIN! It's like a tube almost reaching the floor.  WHAT? HOW? Clearly, at this age, I did not understand that it was the knit fabric of the stocking that made it lose its shape.  And so I was pretty disappointed.  This is why I don't think I communicated clearly to my mother why I wanted a new stocking.  Because if she really knew why, I doubt she would have let me get the same kind of stocking all over again in a different color!

I don't remember when this was, but at some age I was finally able to explain to her my issue with my stocking--how I hated it that mine looked like a misshapen tube while everyone else's held their shape.  We discovered the way she stuffed it was what made most of the difference.  She was putting the heavy things like a bag of M&Ms at the bottom and the light things on top.  My dad pointed out that my stocking was likely to hold its shape if she put the light things on the bottom and the heavy ones at top! What a breakthrough! That helped for the most part.

When I was in college, I decided to go buy myself a classic Christmas stocking.  Because I guess I just liked uniformity, and my stocking never did completely hold its shape no matter how she stuffed it.

From then on, I have had this kind of stocking.  I just find it funny it took us so long to communicate or figure out the reason my stocking seemed to have so much more trouble holding goodies than the rest did. 

The Year My Sister "Ruined" Christmas

I only have one memory of Santa Claus, and that is because that was the year my sister changed everything.  Being opposite in our views of the world as children, my sister and I had very different takes on the idea of Santa Claus.


My point of view was that this was a wonderful opportunity! I couldn't wait to get in line to sit on this nice man's lap at the mall and tell him what I wanted for Christmas.  I was 4 years old and I asked for a toy baby carriage to push my dolls around in.  My sister wanted nothing to do with Santa.  Her perspective was why should she sit on a strange, large man's lap just to get what she wanted for Christmas.  Her parents, with whom she was much more familiar, could probably do the trick.  She was also very uncomfortable with the idea of a stranger coming into her house at night while she was sleeping and eating her milk and cookies...never mind the fact that he is leaving you a present.  That is breaking and entering.


She really did not like strangers at all.  So, my sister did not WANT to believe in Santa.  All aspects of Santa were very intimidating to her, and she would rather prove he did not exist than accept having a stranger in her house at night.  If left to our own devices at that age, my sister's wisdom probably would have helped her survive in the world better. 


However, I was a whole-hearted Santa believer.  Santa was a great man to me.  Sure, come on in my house and eat my milk and cookies as long as you leave me my doll carriage.  


But shortly after my very first memory of sitting on Santa's lap and asking for my doll carriage, my Christmas was ruined.  It was ruined in the form of my well-meaning 6-year-old sister who woke me in the middle of the night. I will never forget this night as the devastation embedded the memory deep into my brain.
My sister waking me up and getting me out of bed,"Becky, there is no Santa Claus." 
"Oh really? Then whose lap did I sit on in the mall?" 
"A man dressed up in a Santa suit."
"Then who puts the gifts under the tree when we're all sleeping?"
"We are not all sleeping.  Mama and Papa get back up and put the presents under the tree."
"NO!"
"Yes!"
Taking me by the hand, she led me down the stairs where we peaked around the stair rail to catch our parents putting presents under the tree.  I was so upset.  I'm not sure why.  I still got my doll carriage that I asked for.  I just wished that it had been Santa that got it for me.


I just asked my mother if she told Megan there was no Santa in order to ease her fears of him.  She doesn't think so.  She said my dad felt guilty for telling us a tale and would rather we experience reality.  But I know they did not reveal this information to me until I caught them.


Christmas was never the same since.  It was not worse. It was just different.  I went straight to my parents with my Christmas gift wishes.  I did miss sitting on Santa's lap in the mall.  And, though I knew he wasn't real, a part of me still wanted to sit on his lap and put in my Christmas requests.  


Whatever their take on Santa Claus is, parents have different reasons for making him a part of Christmas or not for their children.  Personally, I have settled on the idea that there was a Saint Nicholas, and Santa Claus a symbol.  He is a symbol of undying generosity.  And I like that even if he isn't "real."


By the way, I love my sister very much and I do not hold it against her that she pulled the mask off of Santa for me that one year.

Grandma Toe

I find it fascinating to see how many different people from both sides of our families have traits that show up in our little man.  As soon as he was born, I noticed that he had my father-in-law's ears! He sometimes looks like his Aunt Candice, sometimes like his Aunt Megan, sometimes like me, and sometimes like his daddy (naming only a few).


But one trait in particular that it is impossible to deny where he got it from is the way he holds his big toe.  He has been doing this since he was born, and there is only ONE other person I know who does this....my mother!

Sitting with her feet up in a recliner chair, my mom subconsciously holds her big toe erect or facing her while the rest are facing down.  It looks incredibly uncomfortable.  And, when I try it with my toes, it is very uncomfortable! I don't know how she does it and it used to bother me because it looked like it would hurt so much.  I'd be afraid her toes were going to get stuck that way.  So I'd say, "Stop holding your toe like that."  "Huh?" She was unaware of it.  She'd then consciously relax her foot only for that toe to spring back up in its previous position when she stopped paying attention.


I think God planned for my son to have this trait because of all of the times I told my mother to stop holding her toe that way! Now, I can clearly see through him that it is just the way his (and her) feet are!  They can't help it.


My mother takes great delight in this shared trait, and she always finds the toe whenever she can! She was the one to spot it in this picture.  I hadn't even paid attention to it, and that foot is almost not even in the picture!

I am glad that she has a way in which she feels she can identify with her grandson even if it is just through a toe!

Sweet Potato Casserole

I made a sweet potato casserole for Thanksgiving this year that I just loved.  I got the recipe from Real Simple magazine (as I had said in the last post).  It had great reviews, so I really wanted to try it.  My mom said it didn't sound any different from her regular sweet potato casserole, and maybe it wasn't! I have had this dish in different variations on Thanksgiving throughout the years.  And I'm really not sure if there is anything different about this recipe, but it was so sweet and light and fluffy! I loved it!


My husband said he wasn't sure how he felt about a marshmallow top as he was used to a crunch top.  But judging by the fact that he returned to the refrigerator to help himself to more on several occasions, I'd say he also found it delightful!

(this is the professional photograph they took to get your mouth watering)

(That's mine..not nearly as visually appealing..but still tasted great!)

Ingredients

• 2 1/2 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes 
• 3/4 cup packed brown sugar 
• 1/4 cup butter, softened 
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt 
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup finely chopped pecans, divided
• Cooking spray 
• 2 cups miniature marshmallows 

Preparation

• Preheat oven to 375°.
• Place the sweet potatoes in a Dutch oven, and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer for 15 minutes or until very tender. Drain; cool slightly.
• Place potatoes in a large bowl. Add sugar and next 3 ingredients (through vanilla). Mash sweet potato mixture with a potato masher. Fold in 1/4 cup pecans. Scrape potato mixture into an even layer in an 11 x 7-inch baking dish coated with cooking spray. Sprinkle with remaining 1/4 cup pecans; top with marshmallows. Bake at 375° for 25 minutes or until golden.

I did not have a dutch oven.  I just boiled them in a regular pot and let them sit after that for 30 minutes.  

I also seasoned mine with some cinnamon.

The recipe was shared in Real Simple Magazine through www.myrecipes.com

OUR First Thanksgiving

Turkeys all around the world were probably thanking us this Thanksgiving as we decided to forgo the traditional turkey and have a ham for Thanksgiving.  Besides, those familiar with Animal Farm would likely agree it isn't safe to keep pigs around.  This was basically because we had preordered both a turkey and a ham when we were planning for a much larger crowd.  When we knew it was just us, we had to pick one.  At first, we were going to do a turkey because what's Thanksgiving without a turkey, right? But then, for practicality reasons a ham made so much more sense. It was already cooked and sliced.  We wouldn't have to do anything to it to save it for sandwiches later except wrap it back up and put it in the refrigerator.  So, a ham it was for us.


As I had said in my last post, I started to think that this would be a good opportunity for us to spend a holiday together as a family.  And it truly was!  My husband and I split Thanksgiving preparations; he made three dishes and I did as well.


I made a sweet potato casserole (recipe coming in a later post) that I got out of Real Simple magazine and it was to die for!

I also made a pumpkin pie. Nothing special, but it was still good!  I made the crust by hand and was surprised it came out nice.

I also made a green bean casserole, which is easy as it only requires opening up some cans and putting the contents together. Still, I love green bean casserole, and it was great.  I didn't take a picture of that one by itself.

I also carried on my grandmother's tradition with the cranberry sauce.  Now, one might think this is simple, and I'm sure my grandmother did it for the sake of efficiency.  But getting the cranberry sauce out of the can while maintaining the mold of the can is not easy! It takes careful precision. I pulled it off, though. Grandma would be proud. 

My husband made deviled eggs that were delicious.  Of course deviled eggs are delicious! I did not get to take a picture of them on their own, but you will see them later.

He also made some great tasting baked beans with some bacon and brown sugar.  They were wonderful!

Finally, he made some STUFFIN MUFFINS! That is so much fun to say! Try it, "stuffin muffins." You know you enjoyed it! I did manage to get in the kitchen and get a before picture.

We had just the right amount of food for the two of us.  Yes, we had too much but that's part of Thanksgiving anyway! Now we have plenty to eat for a week.  Okay, so here you see the previously described (without a picture) green bean casserole, deviled eggs, ham, and baked beans! My husband snatched his plate up and started getting food not pictured before I got a chance to photograph the whole table! We were hungry and little man was napping, so we knew we had to eat while we had the time alone.  He did nap for two hours, which gave us plenty of time to eat!

I couldn't wait to dig in! Of course, we gave thanks to the Lord first for giving us time together as a family and food on our plates. 

That little brown thing near the deviled eggs is a scrumptious stuffin muffin!

It was such a beautiful time spent with each other eating delicious food and later sitting by a nice warm fire in the fireplace. 

Little man had a very nice day as well.  He had slept 9 straight hours the night before making the day more enjoyable for all of us! He was full of smiles all day showing his thankfulness for life! He spent the day rolling around playing with toys, taking good naps, and finished it off with some fun in his jumperoo.  

And who really needs a turkey anyway when you have this little turkey?

I hope everyone had just as enjoyable of a Thanksgiving! 

A Small Thanksgiving

We are spending Thanksgiving together as just the three of us this year.  This wasn't our original plan, but God had other plans.  So, this is not only the baby's first Thanksgiving.  But it is also our first Thanksgiving just together with our family.  I will not lie; at first, it was a hard concept to accept.


It seemed weird.  I have never spent a Thanksgiving without large numbers of extended family or friends.  My husband's only Thanksgiving without a lot of family was when he was deployed to Iraq.  


Even though the concept seemed strange at first, I realized that's only because I'm just used to it a certain way.   We don't have to be with another family (be it our family or friends) to have Thanksgiving.  Actually, I think this can be a nice opportunity for us to be a family together for one of the first holidays our son has been with us.

Trusting Myself

Out of all of the definitions listed in the picture above, my favorite is number 4.."A woman who creates, nurtures, protects, etc." For quite some time, my husband was trying to encourage me to stop reading about being a mother and just go with my instincts.  He'd say, "Don't you trust that you have motherly instincts that are enough to care for your child?" My response was, "I want to be educated by other people who have been through it before and glean good advice before I have to mess up first." Essentially, in a nutshell, my answer (though I didn't realize it) was "No, I do not trust that I have motherly instincts."

And through this, I slowly realized I wasn't having much faith in myself as a mother! There are countless books, articles, resources, etc. with styles of parenting and tips to raise a happy, healthy child.  I was inundated with information that was making me feel increasingly INSECURE as a mother.  For example, I'd put my child in a bouncy seat or swing while he rested there peacefully only to read or hear somewhere that bouncy seats and swings are not natural and should not be used.  "Oh no! My child is in a bouncy seat.  I am a bad mother." 

Most of this is associated with attachment parenting of which Dr. Sears (who I whole-heartedly admire) is a huge proponent.  It is becoming very popular with people of my generation.  I am not totally knocking it as I know people who practice it and love it for themselves and their families. BUT it is getting to the point where it is making people who are just normal mothers feel like they are bad mothers.  The more I'd read from the AP point of view, the more I'd second guess myself and fear I was ruining my child! 

Through this, I came across many other moms who had similar struggles with it.  They started to feel that because they didn't want their child on or with them at all times, they weren't as loving or matronly as other mothers who did.  And we are led to believe that our children will not be as happy well-adjusted members of society if we do not raise them this way.

RUBBISH

I seriously had to teach myself that as a mother doing what I do for him with the intent of wanting what is best for him is just fine.  I am not a negligent mother whose child is suffering.  Anyone can see by the smiles across his face that he is happy and well-adjusted.  Somebody does not need to step in and tell me how bad it might be for my child to sit in a swing or play alone for awhile.  I noticed that I lost perspective and I had to get it back for myself.

When he was first born, I was told that babies only cry when they need something.  So, you need to respond quickly so they feel secure.  I feel that isn't 100% correct either, why?

When my baby was born he cried when

• he was picked up--he didn't understand the feeling
• he had a diaper change
• he had his first bath (actually he screamed for that)

Was he crying because he needed something? No.  He was crying because he felt something and he either didn't understand or didn't like it.  Under the mentality that babies cry because they need something and you must address it, then you need to stop changing diapers, giving baths, or doing anything that the baby might not like.

I am sharing this because I really was going insane operating under this mentality and I had to sit back and think about it to understand it.  Sometimes, they cry because they need something, but it isn't because they know they need something.  It is because they know they FEEL something.  They feel hungry, tired, wet, or just generally unsure.

I changed my perspective with this because you know I have found the more I am calm showing my child that the things he is unsure of or afraid of are really not scary leads to less crying.  Bath time, for example, once seemed like a torture chamber.  But we kept doing it and I would always be calm and happy instead of taking him out of there saying "oh it's okay." Now, bath time is his favorite time of the day.  He always enjoys going in the bath.

When he was first in his crib, he didn't like it, but I had to show him it wasn't a bad place.  If he just didn't go in there because he didn't like it, then I am just following his lead. Instead of me teaching him, he is teaching me--and that is backwards because he is the one who doesn't know about the world and has fears of things just because they are different. He went in there when it wasn't nap time to play.  Now, when he gets up in the morning, he is smiling.  He has discovered the crib is a fine place to be.  In fact, he sleeps better without Mommy and Daddy making noise at night.

So, I just had to let this out because myself and countless other woman should not feel like we are bad mothers because we have not ascribed to a parenting style.  We should not feel as though our children won't be as well off as others.  And I wouldn't be posting this if I didn't know a lot of people (including myself) who have struggled with it.