Welcome to Not Me! Monday! Christmas Edition! This was created by MckMama, head on over to her blog to see what everyone else have NOT been doing this week.
We did NOT plan six Christmases in four days. We were NOT thrilled, as this is the normal number of celebrations, but they are usually crammed into two days. The space allowed us to really spend time with those we love, and it was wonderful. I am NOT paying for the jam-packed long weekend today, though with whining, crying, fighting children.
In planning all the things that I was going to bring to various potlucks over our four days of Christmas, I did NOT suddenly decide to bake. I couldn't remember why I don't bake very often, I used to bake (and quite well, I might add) in high school, but have not kept it up. I decided to not only tackle my Grandmother's famous fluffy rolls, but also an apple pie.
The night before Christmas Eve, we put the kids to bed and started on out really long to-do list. We did NOT start the evening off with a glass of wine and Christmas music, to get in the holiday spirit. After wrapping, packing and sorting, I started the recipe for the fluffy rolls. But I certainly did NOT decide to double the recipe to make a bigger batch, and try to keep track of everything in my mind. At midnight. After a couple of glasses of wine.
I did NOT mess something up, and I am NOT still wondering what that was. I was NOT horribly disappointed with how the fluffy rolls turned out.
The pie was going to be great. The Betty Crocker cookbook wouldn't let me down, right? I made the pie, and brought it to one of our six Christmases, excited to cut into it. It was most certainly NOT bland and boring, and I would NOT have been much better off buying a pie at Safeway. I did NOT see half-eaten plates of pie go into the trash, as it tasted like someone cut up apples and put them between slices of white bread. Stupid pie.
This Christmas, I did NOT re-discover why I don't bake. I hate following directions. This is why I cook, you can make things up as you go and you really don't have to measure. Baking is like painting by numbers, you have to do exactly as they tell you and it should turn out exactly as they say. (You know, as long as you haven't had too much wine...) What's the fun in that? I think I will give up on baking for a while. You know, till I forget why I don't bake again.
I did NOT feel like a total failure with my not-good rolls and yucky pie. I was NOT thrilled that my cheesy artichoke dip was a hit everywhere I went, reinforcing the thought that I can cook, and should leave the baking to other members of my family. (Or, maybe I should actually try recipies out before bringing them places. Nah, let's go with the first one.)
While finishing up setting out the presents under the tree, we did NOT discover that Drew didn't get anything from Santa. At eleven months old he would never care, but knowing that the other kids might notice, I did NOT throw together a box containing a can of formula, some Cheerios, and a toy that used to be the boys' when they were babies. Emma was NOT thrilled that Santa brought Drew exactly the things he loved the most, and Drew did NOT love chewing on the wrapping paper, just as we knew he would.
On Christmas Eve, we attended my mother's side of the family Christmas celebration. We usually rotate every other year between this one and my hubby's family, but I have been either extremely pregnant or had newborns still in the hospital for the past two times we were supposed to be there, so we haven't been in five years. Since I have only seen these relatives once or twice over the last five years, of course I wanted to make a good impression. Besides my kids, the youngest in that group is about fifteen. This is a group that has not had young children in quite a while, and my crew was certainly NOT a source of entertainment.
There was NO WAY that I was sitting in the family room, enjoying a conversation with my aunt, when laughter erupted and I started hearing shouts of "get the camera!" I did NOT turn and find a little three-year-old boy dressed in his shirt, vest, tie, and socks. Nothing else. If that happened, he would NOT have been holding his shirt up high, revealing his business to everyone there, sending the entire room into gales of laughter as I quickly took him by the hand and led my naked son out of the room. I most certainly did NOT go to the diaper bag, put a new diaper on him and then have to go room to room, searching for his clothes since he could not remember where he was when he took them off. That would NEVER happen.
I will have my Christmas in Review post tomorrow, but until then, what did you NOT do this week?