Our baby had her first Christmas.
I hosted my first Christmas dinner.
I’m not sure I recommend that combination.
Actually – there is nothing wrong with the combination – just make sure ‘I need help’ are words you will actually say versus attempting to out-Martha Ms. Stewart herself (which, by the way, is never likely to happen!)
It started off calm enough, with a lovely sleep-in with my daughter. Daddy made us coffee, Rya tore into her gifts (literally – she’s pretty good at opening presents!). Then, it was time to get started on dinner.
First, there was a big ol’ turkey in my fridge that needed to be tackled.
Having never made a turkey before, I thought maybe these things were hard to do. YouTube to the rescue!
Soon I was removing neck and nasty bits, rubbing it down like a pro and stuffing it like there was no tomorrow.
“Hm”…I thought, “there’s nothing too difficult about making a bird!” – (even if I had to improvise on the ‘tie up with string’ instructions!) 
Next up, the ham. A little criss-cross clove studding and a sweet honey glaze, and we were off to the races!
The sweet potato casserole was prepped and pastry for the apple pie was already made and in the fridge.
We are all set to have a nice early 5PM dinner (which was important with young kids in the family)
By 4:30, the turkey was ready to come out and the ham and was smelling amazing (and I’m not even a big ham fan). At this point, all that needed to happen was for the sweet potato casserole to go in the oven, the cranberry sauce to be made (which was a snap), and the salad dressing to be whipped up.
But at this point, Rya needed to go down for a nap.
45 minutes later, the rest of family had arrived, but instead of having a sleeping baby upstairs and dinner on the table, I was handing off an over-tired baby to my sister and heading back into the kitchen.
We had now slipped past our original dinner time.
We still would have been on for a 6PM dinner – however, I got it in my head the apple pie NEEDED be completed at this stage…and this is where it all went sideways.
Ever try to roll out pastry dough in a kitchen that is about 30 degrees? Bad idea!
But I persisted…and persisted…while putting meat carving on hold while I tried to get it done .
In the living room, I could hear my daughter getting unhappier.
The casserole came out needing to caramelize a wee bit longer, so I popped it back in the oven to broil for “one minute” and started the cranberry sauce. As I continued my futile battle with the overheated pastry, listening to my daughter start to really cry, the cranberries began to boil over, and I suddenly smelled burnt peacans – Eek! The casserole!
I quickly finished making a very sad-looking lattice crust for the pie, popped it in the oven, and left the kitchen to scoop my crying baby while hubbie went to work carving up the meat.
Bon appetite everyone – start dinner without me!
As I stepped into the nursery, turned on the soothing music, and sat in the rocking chair with Rya to nurse, I took a deep breath, and had to chuckle.
That was ridiculous.
There were so many sets of hands just waiting (nay…hovering!), for me to simply say, “I need help.” And what the hell was up with my pie obsession? (was this tied to some sort of postpartum hormone imbalance or had I just gone temporarily insane?)
Anyhow, about 20 minutes later when she was fed and sleeping, I came downstairs to find empty plates on the dinner table.
Empty, clean plates.
And a hungry family.
They had waited for me.
(swallow big lump in throat).
It was now past 7:30.
I would like to say at this point, the rest of the evening was calm and relaxing….but hey, we had some overtired kids, Rya woke up 10 minutes into dinner, and in the meantime, I managed to drive my head into the bathroom door, resulting in a fast-rising goose egg (the most comical part may have been the reaction at the table...“Put some ice on it quick, it’s getting big!” “No…seriously…get some ice on it now!”)
The dinner tasted great though… I think? I don’t remember? Concussion? (hehe…just joking)
But, with such a late start dinner, and everyone full of turkey, the sad-looking pie ended up just sitting on the counter silently mocking me.
Damn-you pie.
1 comment