CBC Radio talked about rituals this week. Specifically, that the Christmas rituals are remembered where gifts are forgotten. This really resonated with me. I keep thinking about how as a girl we marked each week with the lighting of the advent wreath and that Christmas dinner was the height of anticipation. It started around 10 a.m. just after the gifts were opened and carried on until it was dark, candles were lit and we were all starving beyond belief. When supper arrived on the table it was so good. Better than any other meal - turkey, potatoes, gravy, gravy, gravy, peas, stuffing... All so sumptuous on our beautiful table with Baba's linens and best cutlery.
Cousins had gingerbread houses. I think I recall the Jacobsons making one each year and then the Thurlows had beautiful gingerbread decorations with red yarn to hang them from their Christmas tree. I wanted to be one of those clever, crafty people that made gingerbread with my kids (and didn't let my brain go to thinking that it was a wasteful, unhealthy thing to do that left you with a stale, yucky-tasting cookie base where all the good bits had been picked off... WHO would think something like that? Bah humbug!).
So we did it. Against all odds on a Monday evening after a long day of work and staying up the night before making gingerbread until 11 p.m.... we did it.
Some walls broke, there was icing everywhere, structures weren't holding, parents had to really use all their delight to ensure kids did not fully melt down and then after two batches of icing, it all came together. The roofs stayed on, the walls stopped falling and the girls decorated and decorated and decorated. It was amazing. Their houses turned to perfection. Georgia's pretzel ladder was brilliant just as Clem's care in aligning her jelly beans and marsh mellows. My heart could barely take it.
So perhaps this has become a ritual. We'll see. Whatever it is/was, it was the most lovely evening. Thanks Kutschker family for sharing this with us!
