Blessed Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve has always been a blessed event. When I go to bed on Christmas Eve, that is the beginning of the end of Christmas for me. As a child, I looked forward to Christmas Eve far more than I did the gift orgy of Christmas morning. 

There was something almost holy about the time we gathered around the candlelit dinner as a family and  partook of traditional foods enjoyed only on that one evening of the year. It was a sacred time as we read Luke 2 by candlelight and giggled as Dad performed Chinqay Topelinni for us kids, the poem created by a young missionary for the Italian children he adored, about five little mice causing mischief on Christmas Eve.

Though much has changed in our family, and some traditions have fallen by the wayside while new ones have been created, this tradition remains virtually unchanged. And Christmas Eve continues to be the holiday tradition I look most forward to.

Christmas Eve brought the same warm memories this year that it brings every year. We gathered in Mor Mor's warm house. The Christmas tree glowed in the corner of her living room. The china was set carefully on the tables that reached from one end of the dining room to the other end of the living room. Ed Ames serenaded us with our favorite Christmas carols, as the smell of baked ham, and warm swedish bread drifted through the home. We took our annual family photos in front of the Christmas tree. Leslie and John joined us late as Leslie had made an unexpected visit to the ER this morning. Our wish for her this year... a return to good health and a few extra pounds on her bones.

We gathered around the table and enjoyed a quiet dinner over candlelight and enjoyed one of our favorite meals of the year. Baked ham, homemade Swedish bread with homemade mustard topped with cheeses and prickey korv, funeral potatoes, and corn. Thank heavens for The Little Dutch Shop that still carries our favorite spiced meat. It wouldn't be Christmas without it.

After bellies were full, and we had adequately discussed our eager anticipation of the Les Miserables movie coming out the next day, and after stuffing one more open-faced sandwich into our already filled-to-capacity bellies, we adjourned to the living room and Mor Mor and Grandpa handed out their gifts. 

Every year, Mom spends countless hours on handmade gifts for her many many grandchildren. She customizes each gift for each grandchild. This year, the boys got initialed duffle bags filled with flashlights and water bottles.

And the girls received handmade tote bags. The babies received hand-painted stools. Little Molly was in complete heaven as she perched herself on her tiny stool and snuggled her new baby. That little sweetheart is most content when she's perched on a cushion or stool of some sort.

We had only two minor catastrophes this evening. Poor little Sammy had a cheekbone collision with the corner of Neil's cookie sheet as he was handing out Pulla. And baby Eli experienced his first vomiting episode, something that was quite traumatic for the poor fella. Band-aids were put on the bloody cheek, and couches were scrubbed and clothes put promptly into the washer. Both victims fell into an exhausted sleep after their catastrophes.

We ended the night with a gleeful opening of Christmas jammies, this being the first year that everyone's pjs fit perfectly. The perfect end to a perfect day!

One Person's Clutter

I have this pile of clutter that accumulates next to my bed. Mind you, I have an overabundance of empty wardrobe and closet space in my bedroom, and yet this pile accumulates. These are the things that  I seem to need right there, because I seem to use them on a somewhat regular basis. 

I believe you can learn a lot about a person by examining their clutter. So here is a detailed list of this very clutter, sitting on my bedroom floor this very instant:

1. Journal 
2. Parent Award from Sabrina awarded to Neil and I for: kindness, coolness, funniness, protectiveness, sweetness, beauty, quick-wit, awesomeness, amazingness, and spectacularity 
3. A Guide to the new youth curriculum: Come Follow Me 
4. a box of sheet protectors 
5. a binder containing Project Real Life handouts 
6. Book of Mormon student manual 
7. History Book of the Month club catalog 
8. Book: Les Miserables (912 pages into this book) 
9. 6 CDs of archived photos that need to go to Mom 
10. Book: Lincoln's Virtues (47 pages into this book) 
11. Book: Bob Harper: The Skinny Rules (only lightly perused this   book) 
12. Book: Happier At Home (145 pages into this book) 
13. MomAgenda Day Planner from 2012, 
14. Map of Powell's bookstore in Portland 
15. Book: You Staying Young (perused whenever I think I might die young) 
16. Book: Mary Chestnut's Civil War (Read part of the introduction) 
17. invitations to Sabrina's violin recital 
18. printed Amazon confirmations of purchase 
19. Stake YW calendar for 2013 
20. handout on traditions from Relief Society 
21. 3rd Ward YW calendar for October 
22. June & August Ensigns 
23. program from Utah Symphony 
24. another History Book of the Month Club catalog 
25. Project Real Life quote cards 
26. MomAgenda Day planner from 2011 
27. Book: Life is a Verb (137 pages into it) 
28. bag of photographs of Dad growing up (to be scanned and returned to Grandma) 
29. apology letter from Jessica for slippage of grades 
30. one chapter of my personal history 
31. polaroid snapshots of kids taken by Kelcey 
32. Book: Canyon Wilderness of the Southwest (for travel & photography purposes) 
33. Ruby's Inn Campground information 
34. yet another History Book of the Month Club catalog 
35. anniversary card from Neil's parents 
36. Girls Camp feedback form (never filled out)

Now what does that say about me? I threw away two or three of these items after taking this inventory, but just about everything else remained, just in neater piles. After all, these are things I use on a somewhat consistent basis. 

Fifth & Final Concert of the Season

Last night was our last Christmas Concert of the season. As hectic as these evenings are, I truly enjoy my kids' holiday concerts. There's nothing like adolescents dressed in their concert best, sporting Santa hats, singing or playing with full vigor our favorite Christmas carols, to bring in the holiday spirit.

Sabrina did not disappoint this year, as she and her friend played some lovely duets: What Child Is This, God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman, and Jingle Bells

 Sabrina graced us with Minuet in G by Beethoven, one of her personal favorites. And it shows. She plays the song with feeling and musicality. Sabrina has progressed beautifully in her violin playing over the last year. She has a beautiful vibrato, and the ability to really feel the music as she plays. This dramatic child of mine does not leave the drama out of her playing. And when it comes to violin performance, drama is not necessarily a bad thing.

Then it was time for the orchestra concert. There was an extreme shortage of chairs for the concert. So our family was literally sprinkled throughout the whole commons area. Neil and I prefer to stand for the concerts anyway. There are less heads in the video and photos that way. We listened to the beginning orchestra and cringed as an overactive child blew passed an advanced student's cello, bumping the endpin, and knocking the cello flat on its face. Yes, the bridge collapsed. I can not tell you how many times we've seen this happen at school concerts. I fear every time my kids go trotting off to school with instrument in hand. I pray for my children, and I pray for their pricey instruments.

No real harm was done. They were able to slide the bridge back into place, and tune the cello up in time to play with the advanced orchestra. They did a marvelous job. On the program tonight: Frosty the Snowman(the most stupid Christmas song ever written according to Sabrina), The Holly and the Ivy, and my personal favorite, a fun Polar Express medley complete with train sounds made exclusively by stringed instruments.

With a sigh, I say farewell to these delightful Christmas concerts for this year. Thanks to my talented children, I have a purse full of red and green programs and a heart full of Christmas spirit.

You Know You're A Swede When...

You know you're a Swede when there is a bowl of whipped cream in your refrigerator at all times.

I thought about that the other day as I opened my fridge. I wondered how many other people consistently harbor a bowl of whipped cream in their fridge. It's a staple in our home, right there with the milk and eggs. You see, I am of Scandinavian stock. And Scandinavians like their cream.

There is a story that circulates around our family. My grandmother was a teenager, in Sweden, before and during World War II. At fifteen or sixteen years old, my grandmother worked a small job, and she handed her paycheck over to her widowed mother each week. That is, most of her paycheck, she kept a few cents for herself so that she could buy herself one luxury, a pint of whipping cream. Mor Mor talks of growing up and how there were always finger prints scraped all over the top of frosted cakes on her mother's countertop. Mischievous children, you wonder? No, my grandmother was the culprit.

I have memories of my own mom opening the fridge to take a swig out of the carton of unwhipped cream, and I remember her more than once pouring some cream into her bowl of cereal. That 2% milk just wasn't cutting it. I grew up with freshly whipped cream on my waffles, and on my Swedish pancakes, and in my hot chocolate,and on my ice cream sundaes. No leftover whipped cream ever went to waste. My mom would scrape what was left in the bowl and add cocoa, oatmeal, and coconut, to make a chocolate cream concoction that is pure heaven, an idea that she got from none other than her own mother, and a treat that I indulge in now and then. Because, heaven forbid the whipped cream go to waste. I find myself making a batch of waffles, just to put that bowl of cream in my fridge to good use.

We children may or may not have left my mother's house knowing how to cook, but everyone of us, girls and boys alike, left knowing how to whip a bowl of cream to fluffy perfection. To this day, few sounds bring warm-fuzzy memories quicker than the sound of a hand mixer beating against a bowl of whipping cream.

One consequence of such childhood indulgences, is that I tend to be a cream snob. I shrink in horror when I see a tub of Cool Whip sitting next to a pie. I almost think it's blaspheme when someone refers to Cool Whip as whipped cream. "What? Could you be referring to that petroleum-like substance sitting in that plastic tub? No, that is not cream, and I do not want it anywhere near my pie, thank you very much!"

And shall we discuss the dreaded cream in a can? Just shake and spray, only to watch it deflate to a few white spatters across your precious dessert. I was recently at the Dickens Festival and had been eyeballing a delicious funnel cake all night. I finally indulged just as the event was closing. The gentleman preparing my treat asked if I wanted whipped cream and I replied with an enthusiastic "Yes Please!" My face may have dropped when he pulled out the can of Reddi Whip. It may have dropped even more so when he applied it stingily. 

When I think of my very favorite desserts...creme brûlée, chocolate mousse, truffles, cream puffs... they all carry one key ingredient...you guessed it. 

My calorie and cholesterol obsessed in-laws shudder at family campouts when we sit down for a waffle breakfast and my children ask, "Where's the whipped cream?" I have learned to bring my own pint of cream and to whip it up right there in the trailer. The sneering comments about early heart disease fall on deaf ears, for we all know who's really enjoying their waffles.

Yes, I am fully aware of all the risks of high cholesterol and high fat diets. That is why you will now find a bowl of whipped cream in my fridge only 70% of the time instead of 90% of the time. I don't know that I am aware of a single Swedish relative that has died of heart disease. So I will go on slathering my Swedish pancakes with cream, for you see, I can't help myself. It's in my Swedish blood. 

Jonah's Special Day

Jonah does not like the spotlight. He can't stand the idea of all eyes on him. So, we have to find little ways for him to shine without mortifying the poor kid. When I found out that his class would be celebrating Christmas Around the World, I immediately emailed his teacher and told her that Jonah would have all sorts of things to share with the class. When he came down with a nasty cold last weekend, I was terrified that he would be too sick to come to school for his fun presentations. We kept him home Monday. He slept twelve hours straight, and woke up Tuesday chipper as can be with only a trace of a cough remaining. What a blessing.

Tuesday morning, Neil got up and sliced the loaf of pulla he had labored on all night last night, then emailed Jonah's teacher all sorts of fun Christmas traditions celebrated in Finland.

But this was not all, Mor Mor showed up in the afternoon sporting her Swedish costume and all ready to teach Jonah's class about Christmas in Sweden.

You can see that the discomfort of the whole class focusing on Jonah because his grandmother was up front, was almost more than he could bear. But if you were able to get a little closer, you would see a smile on that face he's trying to hide.

Mom had the class immediately at ease and entranced by her stories of long nights in Sweden where the sun only comes up for an hour and the butterflies she would experience as a little child waiting for Santa Clause to knock on the door Christmas Eve.

The highlight would be the traditional folk dancing, where the children learned had the chance to learn all of the dances that have been enjoyed in Sweden for centuries. Dances about little pigs and frogs, and about violins and flutes. Dances accompanied by accordians and lead by energetic fast-talking Swedish men. Dances enjoyed by adults and children alike. Dances that we lack in this country. Dances that require no coordination or pairing off. Dances that are all about standing in a circle, holding hands, and stomping with the beat. The children immediately let go of all inhibition and danced, and eventually got their teacher to dance, and as one dance would end, found themselves begging for another.

It was a fun day for Jonah. I wish that more of this went on in the schools. Where children learn about the customs of other countries, not from google, but from those who came from those countries. Rather than reading a paragraph in a textbook, they can picture the lit graveyards in Finland. They can imagine Santa coming to their door on Christmas Eve. For a moment, they can eat as the Finns eat and dance as the Swedes dance. I know that the school system's resources are meager now, and after all, not everyone has an amazing Mor Mor that will take a day off work, climb into her Swedish costume, and spend an afternoon whooping, hollering, and dancing in circles with thirty 4th graders.I guess we're just lucky that way.  

Over-Scheduled - Over-Joyed

The Watson family was a tiny bit over-scheduled this evening. Sabrina and I got back from violin lessons with exactly one hour before we had to head to the high school. This would have been adequate, except that I had a large pot of soup to make for the fundraiser dinner. Somehow I was able to get the creamy vegetable soup prepared, poured in a crockpot, cameras and children gathered, and everyone out the door on time.

The fundraiser dinner was worth the $20.00 it cost to feed our whole family. I usually like to try someone else's dish at these things, so as to get a taste of other's cooking. I made a mistake this night, and went for the cheesy potato without looking under the lid first. It was most certainly made from a box, the processed flavors abounding...should've gone for my own soup. We only got to chat with Grandma and Grandpa for a minute or two before leaving the dinner prematurely to get Spencer to his choir concert. He was still stewing over the massive choir shirt I had purchased for him. Apparently I was not thinking when I ordered him a child's large. He assured us that we didn't need to attend, but we assured him that his talents are just as important as his sister's. 

Mor Mor and Grandpa were waiting for us at the elementary school. Spencer did an awesome job! Although he insisted that we couldn't hear him. This was a program of Christmas songs that I had never heard before, and I was impressed that this group of kids had learned the words to so many new songs. I was particularly proud when Spencer got up and rocked the xylophone. 

The choir concert ended at the exact time that Jessica's high school orchestra concert was beginning. Now began the mad dash back to the high school. Fortunately, Jessica's group was playing second, and we made it in plenty of time to hear some awesome renditions of Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, and the Coventry Carol. But my favorites had to be the Nutcracker Medley followed by O Come Emanuel, which offered the melody for the cellos. Rightfully so, as that song seems to have been written for the cello.

Everyone's favorite, and thus a tradition for the combined high school and junior high orchestra, is Christmas Eve/Sarajevo. Basically Carol of the Bells Transiberian style. Jessica loathes this song for the exhausting bowings throughout the piece. But I have to side with her peers. It was one of my favorites. I was happy to catch Mrs. Smith ending the piece with conductor gusto.

After a group shot for the yearbook, we took Jessica's cello so that she could go to Pace's with her friends. The rest of us decided to grab a treat at Kneaders, which apparently no longer offers half price treats after 8:00. Jonah wanted ice cream, and so the sulking session ensued and lasted pretty much all night. I bought him a delicious chocolate chunk cookie which he vehemently refused to eat. I snuck it in his lunch the next day, and yes, when he was all by himself, in a crowded lunch room, with a hungry belly, he could not resist its chocolatey goodness. I also brought home a chocolate dome "for Jessica". But when I saw her massive shake from Pace's sitting in the freezer the next day, I decided to indulge in that little piece of decadence myself. All right, I probably would have eaten it anyway, but this way I felt a little less guilty.

I'm Just Here For the Intermission

Alicia asked Jessica to perform in the lobby before and on stage during the intermission of Julie Moffet Dance Studio's Nutcracker performance. Jessica jumps at any and every opportunity to play her cello for an audience, whether it's in a theater filled with hundreds of people, a living room filled with doting grandparents, or the center of our home where dishes and homework are being done during the performance,she is eager to share her talent. The kids have been begging Neil and I to take them to a Nutcracker performance, and the fact that we were handed three complimentary tickets to this performance made it affordable for us to bring the whole family. 

When the curtains came down for intermission, and my child's name was announced, and she walked onto that stage and sat down with her skeleton stand and piles of sheet music, I could not help but wonder why people were getting up and leaving, and why on earth  everyone was jabbering when we were about to be delighted by some beautiful music. And then I remembered that these people were not here to hear the cello, they were here to see little Sally bounce around in a tutu, and they needed to pee and get concessions before her sister wowed the audience with her Arabian solo. As much as I enjoyed these dance numbers, and always love me some good Nutcracker, I was sitting in the Egyptian Theatre for one purpose that evening, and that was for the intermission. So though I needed to pee like you wouldn't believe, I sat back in my seat, butterflies in my stomach, holding my breath, until Jessica began to pull her bow across those beautiful strings.

Fortunately, and much to Jessica's delight, they had attached a microphone to her cello. She began to play, and the sound moved across the room of distracted parents. I would love to say that a hush came across the room as all were in awe of my child's playing, but we forget that most of the people in that room were receiving their only dose of culture for the year, in the form of a ballet, and didn't care for an overdose. But the room did get quieter, and there were those who were listening. And there were many who were kind enough to applaud between each number. My respect for humanity was restored somewhat.

Jessica played O Holy Night and Silent Night, and then proceeded to go through her repertoire. She began to play Saint Saen's Swan, "Mr. Swan" as Peter Prier so lovingly refers to it, and one of my favorites. Jessica can play flashy concertos complete with crazy runs at mind-bloggling speeds and ridiculous shifts, but her specialty is the beautiful slow pieces. Her wide rich vibrato enhances each note as she flows through the piece with grace and artistry. I was a proud mama in that audience, and those people probably didn't understand what a treat they were enjoying.

Thanks to YouTube, there was a hum in the room as Jessica began to belt out a memorized Prelude to Bach's First Cello Suite. The room seemed to buzz with a level of respect now that she was playing something that the Pianoguys have made popular. A room that hardly paused for The Swan, was now energized over Bach. The young woman next to Sabrina commented smugly, that certainly this girl wasn't actually playing. This had to be a recording. Sabrina informed her that that was her sister, and that this is a piece she plays everyday. Funny thing, this was not the most complex piece she had played that evening, but it's the one that wowed the audience. 

The intermission ended just about the time that Jessica ran out of music, and I gave her a nice proud mommy applause, and the rest of the room gave her a hardy applause as well. My wish for her?...that someday she is able to play for just as large an audience in just as fun a venue, where everyone is there to hear her, where everyone respects her instrument and her ability to make it sing.

Just Trying Out A Photo Now

Don't Know What I'm Doing

So not technically savvy. This may be a very bad idea.