Half Baked

I went to my daughter's Christmas party at school Friday past. I must say, I was supremely disappointed. Not in the party, mind you, rather, I was disappointed at the lack of participation on the part of most of the parents. I saw mothers and fathers, stepmothers and stepfathers bringing in bags of chips, candy, cheetohs, and sundry other "every day" items. These children see that 365 days of the year. It's Christmas, for crying out loud!! What happened to mothers (and in my family, fathers), toiling away in the kitchen producing those delectable, mouth watering delights of Christmases past? Where is the sense of tradition? Where is the joy of showing up with platters of homemade treats that only come but once a year? I mean to tell you, a lot of these parents are able to take off work for "girl's days out", or because they just feel like it. Some of them are not working, or working part time, and could easily step up to the plate. I'm not talking about the folks who are on fixed incomes and cannot afford it. I'm talking about the folks I SEE out and about all over town playing hookie from work but can't seem to make the time to come to their child's school Christmas party. One can do enough baking for eighteen third graders on a Saturday afternoon or Sunday after church. Even one batch of sugar cookies isn't that demanding a task for most. So before anyone sinks their fangs into my neck, read my words carefully. For SOME, and I mean FEW, this is not possible, either because of finances or the fact that they really cannot get off work. Understood. I'm broke. I'm struggling. I'm tired. I'm middle aged with an exceedingly active toddler and nine year old. Yet I baked Christmas treats for my daughter's party because I wanted to. I wanted to share that with her. We rolled out the cookies, cut them with cookie cutters, decorated them, or rolled them in powdered sugar, or twisted them up like pretzels. We made Old German gingerbread stars with clear icing, snowballs (a buttery, crushed pecan, powdered sugar covered cookie), Norwegian Kringla (a shortbread twisted into a pretzel shape), and homemade potato candy, all of which, as soon as I can, I will share the recipes for so you can all try them. Just eat half and rub the other half across your butt, since that's where they'll end up anyway.
I suppose I'm simply venting. I just know I'll always remember (and treasure), the look of pride on my precious baby's face as we passed out our homemade delights. It's a different world from the one in which I grew up. I miss that world, the world in which my mother brought me up. I will do my dead level best to make my daughter's world that world. I know there are others who feel the same way. Sadly, none of them were present at my child's school Christmas party. I've always been told I have high expectations. Perhaps I do. Or perhaps I just believe in making this season fun, creating Christmas memories, and sharing time with my daughter doing things we enjoy together. Hmmm...

Much Love,
Deborah

ps Mama, thank you for giving me that world. It was such a lovely place to grow up. You made everything so...magic. I love you, Mama, I miss you...and I know you'll meet me when I finally come home. Kiss Daddy for me. And Mama? Merry Christmas.