Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Breakfast Casserole is Not a Feast for the Eyes

@randomblogette asked for my breakfast casserole recipe.  Actually, it isn't mine. I stole it from some anonymous cook on the internet and it's less of a recipe than a method.

The original list of ingredients:
32oz bag of frozen hash browns
1 lb of sausage, cooked
1 lb of bacon, cooked
8 oz shredded cheddar cheese
1 diced onion
12 eggs, beaten
salt, pepper, dry mustard

This is ridiculous, non?  I was only feeding three people and one of them was unlikely to eat it (Violet, ahem). I cut this recipe in half, omitted the bacon and substituted red pepper for onion.  I added onion powder, because frozen potatoes tend to be kind of flat tasting. I also used the diced variety of potatoes because the shredded kind NEVER taste good under my care.

Basically, you just layer this like a lasagna in your crock and then pour the eggs over the whole thing.  My layers were: potato, peppers, sausage, cheese.  I added the spices directly to the eggs.

The full recipe requires 10-12 hours on low, but my half recipe was a little over done.  8 hours would have been better for mine. Oh, and it is NOT pretty. Close your eyes. Do not look directly at the casserole. Just eat it. Notice, I did not photograph this. It would have looked like those awful photos you find in old microwave cookbooks.

I will do it again next year. It was hearty and required no effort on my part. Add a timed coffee maker and you can enjoy a fine breakfast without delaying any of the wrapping paper carnage on Christmas morning.

If you make your own, let me know how it turns out, m'kay.

Monday, December 28, 2009

Christmas In a Nutshell

'Twas the Night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was sleeping...because mother and child have a genetic commonality that makes it impossible to turn one's brain off after reaching a certain critical mass of anticipation. There was no way that was ever going to rhyme, but like I said I haven't gotten enough sleep in the last 10 days, so I'm a bit punchy.

I engaged in a crafting sprint to the finish on Christmas Eve. Photo cubes, magic wands, monkeys and matching nightgowns for Vi, Knuffle Bunny and Baby Rojo.



It was my intent to totally exhaust myself, so that I would fall asleep easily, but it didn't work.  We were awake at 5:30 AM on Christmas.  The smell of my crockpot breakfast casserole probably did not make it any easier to stay in bed, so we all stumbled down the steps at 6 to see what the big guy left us.



I was an orgy of wrapping paper and glitter. The glitter has been so thoroughly tracked through my house that I am now finding it in my underwear.  NEVER leave a craft happy four year old alone in a room with a vial of gold glitter.  Daddy has born the brunt of the glitter onslaught, largely due to his Christmas bling.


Violet said Daddy needed a "big ol' Daddy necklace" for Christmas. Done.

Mommy got this little hunk of high tech crack after Daddy bullied T-Mobile into letting us upgrade a month ahead of schedule.


It's a Samsung Memoir and IT IS FULLY AWESOME!

Despite family wide fatigue, we continued the day's festivities with my in-laws.  There were more presents there and Violet and her cousin showed definite signs of Holiday PTSD.  Fabulous gifts were unwrapped and met with cold, blank stares. Later, the girls could be seen rending their garments and crying out for a nap.

The monkeys were a big hit though and my faith in love and humanity was restored.


I was asked by Aaron's Aunt to take family portraits for her.  I'm telling you. You buy a big fancy camera and suddenly everyone recognizes your artistic genius.  They turned out nice, but I'm not going to out the in-laws online, so here is the photo I am sure certain people wish we would have used on our Christmas card.


Notice how my child looks like a drunk sorority girl after a Halloween party. That's when you know it is time to go home and take a rest, before the next round of gifts.



Christmas continues for us this coming weekend, when the out of town presents get opened at my Aunt's house.  Hopefully, Violet will sober up by then.  For now, she's recuperating with her most extravagant gift.




Oh, and this also happens to be my 400th post.  Thanks for reading and commenting and generally validating my very existence.  There will be many more to come in 2010, unless someone convinces me to shut up. 

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Merry Christmas!























I sent Violet upstairs to put on something pretty, for Christmas Eve. We aren't going anywhere, but "pretty" is a motivator and I thought we should try to get out of our pajamas today.  On the way up the steps she must have changed "pretty" to "super" in her little head, because she came back down in this get-up.  I've cropped the photo for modesty's sake, this being Violet's Halloween costume from 2008.  She's like a foot taller than she was when we got the costume, so it's actually much closer to Linda Carter's uniform than it was intended.

There's a whole, giant tube of Mini M&Ms in today's countdown container, so Violet should be flying like a super hero any second now.  I might need to dose her chocolate milk later tonight.

Happy Holidays blog buddies! See you soon!

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

When the Voices in Your Head Don't Calm You Down...Blog

Thanks for the pep talk about my Christmas cards. Before I got my own blog, I would have stewed about this little incident for days and days. Talking to one's self does not provide the positive feedback necessary for a speedy emotional recovery, no matter how much you agree with yourself. 

To celebrate my acceptance of the rejection of my offensive Christmas card (see how I can laugh about it now), I have hand crafted gifts for the two littlest people in our family.  My family is all about homemade stuff and personal, sentimental type gifts.  My husband's family (whom we spend Christmas with) is not terribly comfortable with such intimacies. In the past, I have tried my best to respect their quirks, but I HAD to make these.


I found the pattern for Molly Monkey on a blog called mmmcrafts. I would show you how I put them together, but the pattern itself does a much better job. It is truly idiot proof.  I made them out of all one fabric, instead of scraps like the pattern calls for. The crown was my idea and the green tutu is one of those fabulous no-sew numbers rendered in miniature.  The polka-dot monkey is made from flannel and has a crinkly belly and a jingly tail, as her soon-to-be mama is but a scant 9 months old.  They aren't perfect, but Violet immediately requested her own when she saw what I made, so they must be okay.  Is it stupid that I'm nervous about my gifts to a 3 year old and her baby sister? 

I think I might need to make myself a batch of high octane egg nog. Clearly, my nerves are shot.

Friday, December 18, 2009

The War on Christmas Comes Home

*Sigh*

I generally stay above the fray on the topic of the "true meaning" of Christmas; fingers in my ears, dancing on the couch and humming Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  We celebrate the holidays in the most secular way possible. Sure, a few hymns bust their way into our playlist, but nostalgia and a good orchestral arrangement cannot be denied. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen can really rock the house when done right.  I'm digressing. 

We, The Heathen Family, couldn't care less how you choose to greet us this holiday season.  We like 'em all. Everything is eat, drink and be merry as far as we're concerned.  Too much commercialism? Bah!  If you don't want to buy s*#t, don't buy s*#t.  Hell, I make half the gifts I give. If you are offended by holiday music, stock up on groceries in October and hope for the best. Does the GAP make you mad by blatantly disregarding the superiority of Christianity during this season of wonder? Well, they'd love you to boycott them. It's great for sweater sales. 

Or, or... maybe you just stop whining and eat some damn cookies.

Why so scrunchy Kelly? Why? The holidays never seem to get you down.  Who peed in your egg nog?

I spend a lot of time thinking about, planning and executing our holiday card every year.  Usually, I have my pictures printed by October, when I cash in my free prints on Shutterfly. Since I'm not going to be proclaiming my love for Christ with these cards, they tend to be funny. We're a funny family. The holiday card is our way of sending everyone we love a wee bit of our happy, goofy selves.

For Violet's First Christmas we sent this photo out:


We were forced to assure everyone that we did not actually hang Violet from the mantle. True story.

Last year, I couldn't find a decent photo of the three of us together so I photoshopped this instead:


I can see now that omitting the Christ in Christmas was my downfall, but I really couldn't fit the whole word in that spot.

This year, we made a genuine effort to take a real family photo for our Christmas card. A friend met us at a park and started snapping. Almost none of the photos were flattering of the old married people. Violet could look radiant covered in her own vomit, but I am VAIN. Yes, I said it. I am vain and if I am going to look less than my best, I am going to do it with a sense of humor (the husband feels this way as well).  Luckily, I brought Groucho glasses to our photo shoot.  We all had a good laugh. We Heathens crack ourselves up. Apparently, others were not so amused.

Behold, the most offensive Christmas card we have ever sent:

It's ironic, faux vintage and utterly ridiculous. It is also a clear sign of our rapid decent into hell. We are being prayed for. True story.

So, I guess I need you all to tell me what you think.  What is it about this card that is so offensive? Do we look like Hitler impersonators? Is it the yellow-y vintage effect on the image that is unsettling? Someone offered me the criticism that the photo is just "not Christmas-y".  Perhaps if we had stood in front of a noble fir, festooned with twinkly lights this discussion would never have happened?

Ah, screw it! I think it's funny.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Wardrobe Wednesday

Sunday morning, my daughter came home looking like this:



Grandma was armed with what I can only imagine to be 1,000 foam rollers and the movie Elf.  Violet even consented to sleep in these rollers.  The curls were epic and a real son-of-a-bitch to untangle, but the girl was totally enamored of her Orphan Annie do.  I attempted to re-create the look on Monday night, with uneven results. Literally. The bottom curlers fell out and I didn't have nearly enough of them.  I created something of a curl mullet.


































This is how Violet chose to accessorize her curl mullet.  No parental influence. Zero irony.
God, I love this kid.

Oh and in case you're wondering if a four year old can really appreciate the genius that is Elf, Violet has a little message for you.

"You smell like beef and cheese. You don't smell like Santa Claus."

Monday, December 7, 2009

Dear Santa...

We've been trying to convince Violet that handwritten requests to Santa are more likely to be granted than those submitted via Mommy or e-mail. Mumbling in a terrified voice to the mall Santa doesn't count for much either.  Violet has claimed a number of imaginary deficiencies to get out of this task, but today she felt "well enough" to give it a shot.  She needn't have worried about it.  If she had composed a sonnet to the cat, I don't think I could have been more excited.

I give you Violet's first written-all-by-herself letter to Santa Claus.



She's asking for Musketeer Barbie, but we cut her some slack on the specifics.  The big man knows what's up. We have submitted a request to the North Pole to have Violet's letter picked up using the "magic envelope" service.  Hopefully, when she wakes up in the morning there will be a receipt in the envelope to confirm Santa received her request.


What? You don't expect us to trust the post office do you?

Saturday, December 5, 2009

We Call 'em Truffles, cuz We're Classy

If you've been poking around the interwebs looking for ways to increase your body mass index, you may have come across recipes for cake balls and Oreo balls. I prefer to call them truffles, because I try not to eat anything that has balls in the title, but you can call them whatever you like.  I mean, if you want to hand out carefully packaged gifts of balls this holiday season that's your business. I'm not here to judge.

I'm here to educate {snort} you in the fine art of making Oreo Truffles, for personal consumption (I highly recommend consuming many of them) or gift giving.  They are super easy, can be made with the slave labor assistance of children and require no baking.  Unlike other no-bake "cookie" treats, these are actually edible and don't resemble woodland feces when completed.

Begin by instructing your minions to disassemble an entire package of Oreos. Remind them that Santa is watching and will not bring presents to those who sample the raw materials.  This will of course lead to a revolt and said minion (and her little buddy) will retreat to the bedroom to make a giant mess.





After you've torn apart the cookies, feel free to weep a little as you throw the middles in the trash.  Trust me, it's the only way.  Put the denuded cookies in the food processor and reduce them to dust.


Go upstairs and observe the destruction caused when you neglect to supervise two four year olds on a day long play date.

Vow to enforce clean up time and return to the scene of the Oreo massacre.  Transfer the cookie dust to to your mixer and throw in a brick of softened cream cheese. Beat the crap out of it.

Do not be alarmed. This mess will not be pretty, but it will be tasty. Try not to eat all of it at this stage. It gets better.

Now comes the ball part. Clean hands are a chef's best tool. Pretend it's really yummy play dough.


Put these in the fridge for 30 minutes and get out about 16 ounces of melting chocolate.  Annoyingly enough, bags of chocolate chips come in 12 ounce sizes. You'll need a handful from a second bag of whatever you decide to use.  You can also use bark, but I'm not into "chocolate flavored" stuff. I like the real thing. I used semi-sweet chips, but white chocolate would be lovely as well. Melt it however you like and then dip your balls in it. Try not to laugh and shriek BALLS as you go along. If you are feeling festive you can sprinkle a little something on top of the balls while the chocolate is still wet.

Now, you have truffles. Put them in the fridge, quickly. Children smell them a mile away.

Friday, December 26, 2008

I Don't Want Your Pity

Every Christmas, no matter how happy or easy going, I am assaulted by acne. The severity of the attack varies depending on the weather and my mentrual cycle, but rest assured on Christmas morn my face will be adorned like a festering Christmas tree.  This year's outbreak was/is a real humdinger. My efforts to clear it up during the days before Christmas, only made it worse. The powder I applied yesterday to dampen the shine and dull the redness, didn't do me any favors either.  So, I am going to shame my pimples by broadcasting them over the world wide web. Seriously, these zits were my only problems this holiday season. We Heathens are happy, shiny (some of us more than others) people with a lot to be thankful for. There were presents for all and more than enough ham and cookies to go around. Violet was indulged beyond measure and yet was not spoiled rotten. She only gets sweeter.

It was a joyful day. I showed this acne a good time!

Sunday, December 21, 2008

To Sum Up...

The decorations are up. The cookies are baked. The week's groceries have been purchased and put away. All the gifts have been wrapped (and piled up much higher than I anticipated). The DVR is stocked with History Channel holiday goodies like The History of Christmas, so that I can indulge in my favorite drug (TV, not crack) this Christmas Eve. I plan to spend the next couple of days cleaning my filthy house. Christmas Day is much more enjoyable for me if I feel like I'm getting a much deserved break. Otherwise Christmas Day can sometimes feel like just another lazy, stay-at-home day in a really dirty house and that is what January is for.

I am going to take a break for the rest of the week and emerge refreshed and inspired on the other side of the holidays. Don't worry! I'll will supply some canned entertainment and Christmas wishes to see you through.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Pine

The Heathen Family has a fake Christmas tree. With our tenuous financial situation it has never seemed prudent to pay for a new tree every year, when we could have a reusable tree for nearly the same one-time price.  We don't live in the country, so there's no peer pressure to get the real thing and besides I'm not a big fan of killing a perfectly nice tree so that I can put it in my living room for two weeks.

Also, I have an irrational and persistant fear that my house will spontaneously combust, so erecting kindling in the living room would only add to my anxiety.

The presence of a plastic conifer in our lives has always been a non-issue. Who cares? We understand that the green pipe cleaners are representative of a greater German tradition. The artificial Christmas tree is symbolic. It's shorthand. Nobody in this house NEEDS to go trekking into the snowy woods with a saw in order to understand what the Christmas tree is all about. Except. Violet has never experienced any of this good old-fashioned, tree murdering, family fun and today every holiday picture book we read mentioned the felling of a noble fir.  It made me flashback to my own childhood trauma experience with cutting down a real Christmas tree.

The year was 1980something and my sister and I were bundled like tight little sausages in our spaceman snow suits. My mother and step-father took us to a Christmas tree farm with a foot of snow on the ground. I was cold and my peripheral vision was impaired by my scarf and hood. I wanted to be excited by the process, but I couldn't feel my toes.  My parents found a nice tree. They began to waver and decided that they should look a little more. They were also afraid that this nice tree would get snatched up by someone else, so they made us girls stand next to it while they looked around.  Suddenly, it was just me and my little sister all alone in a frozen wilderness. I started to panic. I couldn't see my parents anymore and my lack of peripheral vision was making me feel like unseen gnomes or strangers were waiting to leap out from behind a tree and kidnap me. I began screaming at the top of my lungs for my mother to come back. Clearly, I was the only one who feared for our safety. Of course, they were right nearby and could still see us kids, but it didn't abate my terror.  It was wholesome family fun.

Aaron and I have discussed it and during a future holiday season we will take Violet out into the faux wilderness and let her execute pick out her very own real Christmas tree. I believe in the gift of experience. I really do think it is important for her to connect to the origins of the tradition, but it is our hope that the entire event will be so miserable that she never asks to do it again. I'm not going to abandon her in a grove of snow covered trees, but a little misplaced pine sap and some sharp needles will go along way to making my little princess daughter howl in agony.

I know. Wholesome family fun.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Christmas Past

Once upon a time, I worked in a used bookstore. It was located near a very popular shopping mall. Starting in October, traffic would steadily increase and by Thanksgiving it would routinely take me 20 minutes to putter a mile up the street to my on ramp. It was maddening. After spending the whole day reminding people that books don't need boxes to be neatly gift wrapped or breaking it to them that their precious Harlequin romance paperbacks are virtually worthless for resale, it was physically painful to sit in traffic surrounded by these same people who had been driving me crazy all afternoon. I would spend the month before Christmas crossing my fingers that my request for vacation would be honored, so that I could go home for the holidays. I would navigate the tense waters of workplace gift giving, while observing the gluttonous shopping habits of my co-workers and customers. It took a lot of emotional fortitude to maintain my positive Christmas spirit.

Traffic not-withstanding, what offended me the most in my retail experience was the drama and complaining and general vitriol I had to listen to about all things Christmas. It was decidedly un-jolly behavior. If you do not enjoy Christmas, why do you participate? And if you don't participate in the custom of giving gifts during the month of December, why are you shopping the weekend before Christmas? Go home and save yourself the aggravation. Oh, and I reject ALL the seasonal religious arguments because I LOVE the Christmas time of year and it has nothing, NOTHING to do with Jesus or super, long-lasting miracle oil or the winter solstice. I like Christmas because we all stop being assholes for a day and we give each other presents and eat cookies and ham together. Period.

When Violet was busy gestating and making me vomit, I celebrated my last Christmas at my family home. We knew that once she was born we would want her to enjoy the delicious custom of leaping out of her own bed and running down the hall in the pre-dawn light to wake her parents with a swift, unintended kick to the balls and an elbow to the face. It is how Christmas should be. I don't whine about the early hour or the black eye. My notoriously late sleeping mother drug her ass out of bed for the sake of me and my sister on Christmas morning and if she could do it anyone can. I don't get all wound up with worry about Christmas, because I simply choose not to. Of course, I no longer work outside of the home and that makes my conviction much easier to keep. When people complain about the this or that of modern Christmas I put my fingers in my ears and start humming Santa Baby. I replay in my head this perfect, composite Christmas morning scene that I have nurtured since childhood and breathe deeply.

I am creeping down the stairs in my nightgown.
The tree lights my way and I settle in front of it and just look. The lights twinkle. The tinsel shines.
The presents are stacked high.
I don't peek or shake boxes or
make any noise at all. I just take it all in, alone in the dark until everyone else wakes up.
It is a meditation, a recognition of how lucky I am to be me and a wish that the day will go slowly.


Go ahead. Close your eyes. Picture it.

Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Yule!
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This Blog Blast was sponsored by FFDA and The Parent Bloggers Network. Tell them how you stay sane during the holidays and you could win $100 Amazon giftcard to subsidize those last minute gifts.

Friday, November 14, 2008

All Hail the Queen of Well Chosen Cheap Gifts!

I have observed that my best friend's daughter Kyra likes to dress up. Anytime she and Violet are together the event is a back and forth extravaganza of the naked/not-naked game. I have also observed that children's dress-up apparel is expensive, poorly constructed and sized specifically for children of an alien race. Finally, I have observed that I have a modicum of skill with a sewing machine and the free time necessary to comb the thrift stores for raw materials. So, this year I am busy creating the most fantastic, trunk full of fancy dress clothes that Kyra's mother will ever have occasion to lay her eyes on. Was that a bit much? My past gifts for Kyra have received so much praise for creativity and originality that I am kind of addicted to the pursuit of the next best gift. Of course, the gifts are also super cheap (sometimes free), which I have a reallly hard time NOT bragging about. For Kyra's 3rd birthday I gave her a storybook starring herself that I made on Shutterfly. It was FREE. I made Kyra's baby brother funny newborn onesies, using iron on transfers. But, I digress...
Here is Violet modeling the recycled t-shirt rag boa that I made using a pattern from the book Alabama Stitch. A kid size boa takes two XL t-shirts to make. An adult version takes four. Violet's lovely skirt was fashioned from a peignoir that I found at my favorite thrift store. Most of the items that will go into Kyra's gift didn't need to be altered at all. I found quite a few very small adult blouses that make great play dresses. I also stalked the post-Halloween sale racks for cheap buys, because every little girl needs a purple fright wig.  I cannot wait for Kyra to open her gift, so that I can hear her mother tell me again how good I am at giving gifts! Hey, 'tis better to give than to receive, right?

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This week's PBN Blog Blast was sponsored by Klutz Books.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

We Are All Very Tired


It has been a long time since I lied awake for hours the night before Christmas. I am thrilled to be enjoying this time in our life as a family, but I am also reminded just how much I like being bored. For weeks the holiday tension has been building. We have done a lot of the wonderful things I remember looking forward to as a child. I have had a lot of fun. Violet has had a lot of fun. In fact, we have had so much fun that our regular routine has sort of disintegrated. I am having trouble remembering exactly what it was I used to do to get Violet to go to sleep so easily every night. She and I are literally buzzing from all the frenetic energy and sleep deprivation. I am looking forward to January when all of this revelry will give way to boredom. Alas, Violet cannot tell time or read the calendar and I am at a loss for how to gently transition her back to our ordinary daily life. Right now, she is lying in bed singing to her new Knuffle Bunny. I recognize the energy in her voice. It is the sound of someone so tightly wound and so profoundly exhausted that they might never be able to sleep again. We are all there right now. I am sooooo tired and yet when I lay my head down and close my lids, my eyeballs start dancing and my brain begins to play a slideshow of the day. I just want to settle down for a long winters nap. I long to be bored again.

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