Belated posting from November - Happy Thanksgiving!

Hello all!


Happy post-Thanksgiving and wishing you all many happy turkey leftover dinners. We are finally "right-sizing" our holidays around here. It's a complex multi-step process. First, we had to get an accurate picture of our collective energy budget. Then, we had to not spending all our remaining energy being super upset that the current energy budget is smaller than it used to be and smaller than we would want. And finally, we had to learn to spend what we had wisely instead of blowing it all in the first hour of the holiday.

I suppose this behavior is typical of all sorts of people who are coming "down" in the world from some prior status. People who used to have money and now don't? Sometimes it takes a year or two before they realize they're not going to be flying to Colorado to go skiing over Christmas. People who used to have yuppie-style lives and now have an infant and a toddler? Sometimes it takes a season to realize that when you're having trouble getting out of the house even to go to the grocery store, squeezing in a four-day-weekend getaway to Cabo San Lucas by cruise ship is over the energy budget. People who used to be in shape to play an impromptu game of tackle football and now aren't? The emergency room is full of them after lovely spring weekends, nursing sprained ankles, pulled backs, and a variety of other casualties of the misestimation of the aging process. (For those of you who are simply too refined, too well-educated, or too classy to ski Colorado, harbor an infant/toddler duo, or attempt an impromptu game of tackle anything, to get the "coming down" picture, simply think of Blanche duBois in "A Streetcar Named Desire.")

Well, my friends, this used to be us. Our collective energy budget as a family is smaller than it used to be, and we used to chronically mis-estimate it. And we paid - meltdowns at the grocery store (who knew once a week was far too often for me to try to grocery shop?). Bizarre events in the kitchen (who knew that once a day was far too often for me to try to cook dinner?) Scary near-misses on the freeway when we were trying to drive too far in one day (who knew "too far" would be a measly 30 minutes? But at the end of a long day, even that can be too long.) Scarier visits from the Brown Bomber when we tried to go too long between breaks to go potty (again - who knew two hours between potty stops was too long? One child is built like a camel with a firm "off" spigot on all egresses. But the other isn't. And for the record, neither is the mama. Which is why I got a dog and not a camel for my pet.)

But we are smarter now, and we realize that a simple fall at the playground can turn into an emergency room visit; a simple cold can run into pneumonia; and a simple failure to consult the calendar and the Daily Plan on the whiteboard in our kitchen can result in somebody showing up at the gym with a kiddie leotard while the kiddie is running around the school play dress rehearsal in sweatpants, wondering where the h**k her white snowflake leotard is and how it was possible everybody else's mommy not only got the memo but brought cookies as well.

So, for Thanksgiving, we took the right-sized way out. School was out the three days prior to Thanksgiving, and as a family we simply don't have the surplus to keep these kids well-exercised in a way that would let me still go to work (get that - work doesn't close simply because school's closed!) So we sent the kids with one of our wonderful nanny/babysitters - three full days, out of the house. And we had Barbara (my wonderful Virtual Assistant) order a Thanksgiving dinner from the grocery store for us. A little while later I had a moment of little faith and emailed her back - could she please phone them and ensure it was a thawed (non-frozen) turkey? She emailed me the confirmation and several days ahead of time, our Thanksgiving dinner was solved and I didn't have to go grocery shopping in the usual meaning of the word. Scott got to rest, and think about how to prepare the turkey.

And I got to go to work. There is some very interesting stuff going on at work these days, and while I won't bore you with the nerdy details, suffice it to say the jury is in, and I am a far more competent engineer than I am a housewife. (I did reach Housewife Level III before sort of plateauing out of that game, at least for the time being, however, and I'm sort of proud of that.) But back to my life as an engineer. At the office I have some new software to play with. I have some new machines on which I can push buttons and watch blinking lights. There is new voice software, with programmable macros. Usually these macros are used so you can say something like, "Print that document" and it will execute a series of commands: open the document, sent it to the printer, and return you to your regularly scheduled spreadsheet. I am itching to program the voice software with a macro so that when I say "Worship me," it will say back in a velvety subservient voice, "Yes Mistress! Your wish is my command." And then perhaps show me a picture of some cappuccino. Who could *not* love going to work when you have toys like that there?

So, this is what a right-sized holiday looked like for us:

Tuesday night: I come home from work at 5 pm. Elli sets the table while Maggie stays Out Of The Way. Part of the New Smackdown Rules are that everybody helps; other parts of it include the much-reviled Distraction Clause. Evidently there are few pleasures in life greater than to watch your sister set the table while you don't have to. Say, for example, you knew you were "off duty" during the table-setting portion of the evening, and you knew you would come "on duty" during the table-clearing portion of the evening (some scant 20 minutes in the future). Wouldn't you maximize your "'off duty" time? Perhaps sit down and read a magazine? Wash your hands? Surf the web? Or even go in and try to raid your sister's secret candy stash while she couldn't come defend it? Well, this discounts that force which is stronger than gravitation and twice as pervasive: sibling rivalry. There is something much more fun than *not* having to set the table while your sister has to set it. It is to watch her set the table, while making distracting noises from the kitchen doorway. And not just any distracting noises - the inflammatory type of distracting noises, such as, "I think the dog is getting ready to chew on your Barbie" and "Bet you can't catch me!" and "I'm going to put my juicy booty on your pillow so it will smell like Parmesan cheese!" In the Good Old Days, before the Distraction Clause, we would get a plate and two spoons onto the table, and then it would fully degenerate into a round-the-house circular high-speed chase, involving (at a minimum) one Barbie, one dog, one pillow, and (in times of extreme glory) one Parmesan cheese shaker.

Hence, the Distraction Clause. If you so distract your sister such that she can't set the table, the new person who sets the table is You. (Scott would like me to tell you all that his track record for compliance with the Distraction Clause is approaching 100% - not once has he given up his Web surfing for the ecstasy of waving a Barbie doll about the kitchen, followed by the agony of setting the table himself.)

And the Anti-Distraction Clause. The burden of proof is on the initial table-setter, and Mom is not only the cook but also the judge and jury. If your sister is waaaay back in her room and making absolutely no noise, you can't claim that she so distracted you that you couldn't set the table. You can't credibly claim, for instance, that you are so distracted that you can't set the table due to your thoughts of what your sister might be wanting to do to your Barbie with her Parmesan cheese shaker. That sort of emotional distress does not qualify. She is also allowed to sneeze (Respiratory Exemption) and use the restroom (Elimination Exemption). But the minute she shows her face in the kitchen before it's dinnertime, it's a bona fide Distraction Disqualification.

(Some of you may be wondering, my goodness, aren't I worried about all the Parmesan cheese that seems to be flying around this house? Very little of it appears to be landing on, say, orthodox platforms such as spaghetti. And that would be true. But in reality, our dog Lucky loves Parmesan cheese, and will simply follow any trails of it around, patiently licking it up. In the summertime, it occasionally does bring ants, but she will eat ants too, especially if covered in Parmesan cheese. So while our floors aren't quite as clean as those of people with no kids or dogs, our floors are actually substantially cleaner than you would expect, all things considered.)

But I digress. It's now 5:01 pm and Elli has set the table for dinner. Maggie has remained in her room, stifling all sneezes but running back and forth to the bathroom seven times (with seven loud closings of the bathroom door and seven other loud closings of the door to her room) in an attempt to stay within the sanctioned Elimination Exemption yet still Distract The Sister. I set out dinner - refrigerated hippie vegetarian beans (can opened yesterday). Refrigerated organic whole-wheat macaroni noodles tossed with extra virgin olive oil (noodles cooked two days ago). Chopped carrots (freshly chopped tonight). Ranch dressing (procured sometime in the past month.) Cut-up Fuyu persimmons and a ruby-red pomegranite. Butter. Yogurt. And bread - delicious, dense whole grain, locally baked, organic wheat bread. Oops - no bread. We just had two loaves of it, purchased three days ago, and it is all gone. OK, so no bread. (Remember I told you once a day was far too often for me to cook dinner? This is what an energy-budget family meal at our house looks like. I simply cannot get home from work, supervise the Table Setting Chore (while enforcing the Anti-Distraction Clause), and heat a flipping meal up. It turns out it was much easier to train them all to eat it cold out of a can/fridge. Next year I may invoke the microwave, but for now, even that is too much. My first order of business is to find out who or what is eating an average of a loaf of bread a day around here. I suspect it's Elli.)

Twenty minutes later (5:21 pm), dinner was long over. Scott settled down to watch a movie with the kids while I set out on surface streets only (no freeways - 'twas rush hour!) to Whole Foods in Walnut Creek to pick up the turkey and the sides from the outside way station - the butcher and the deli people bring it outside for easier pickup! This is in full compliance with our New Energy Budget, which you may recall does not permit daily cooking of a dinner, certain drives on the freeway, or any trips to the grocery store. I was originally going to complete the entire transaction without actually setting foot inside the store, hence technically avoiding a "grocery shopping trip." I ended up weakening slightly on that account because I remembered we were totally out of bread and the kids wouldn't consider the side order of stuffing to be "bread." (Besides, whatever is eating a loaf of bread a day will switch to something else if we don't have any bread, and the two most likely candidates are brown sugar and Cheetos. So we need bread.)

I put my turkey and prefab meal in a grocery cart (oh, the heresy!), took a deep breath, and stepped inside the grocery store. I picked up 2 more loaves of bread....and, in honor of Christmas, 1 pint of eggnog...and, in honor of Maggie, one gallon of milk. At that point I had to retreat to the outdoor cashier lest I be in real danger of having made a "grocery trip" too close to Thanksgiving. I stashed it all in the minivan, drove back home on those same surface streets, watched the freeway come to a completely standstill even though it was now 7 pm, and unloaded our Thanksgiving booty into the garage fridge.

Wednesday: Scott picked up some coffee for the mornings, some brandy for the eggnog, and some wine for Thanksgiving. (Scott is allowed to go grocery shopping and he makes most of our little runs. The person who is not allowed to go, especially with kids in tow, especially after work, especially when there's an entire week's worth of food to procure, especially when there's a list and a budget - that person is me.) Scott laid out the thermometer, the brush, and two pounds of butter for the basting. I decided that while eggnog was usually a Christmas treat, since I had already broken a rule by setting foot inside of a grocery store to obtain it (albeit without kids), it wouldn't hurt to break another rule by having the eggnog (with brandy, whipped cream, and nutmeg) before Thanksgiving. It was fantastic.

Thursday: Scott broke out the November 2009 issue of Martha Stewart's "Living" Magazine. (I subscribe for the pictures, not for the articles. It should be obvious that since I delegate table-setting to the elementary-school crowd, decorate this house with brown patterned floors to better accommodate a mud-loving dog, and will not go grocery shopping on foot, there's really precious little I could do even if I did read the articles therein.) But Her Marthaness is in full glory for Thanksgiving. This issue shows how to "spatchcock" a turkey, which is fully in line with our New Rules. Scott basically takes his poultry shears, removes the backbone of the turkey, splays it flat on a baking sheet, and bakes it in an hour instead of four. Quick, easy, and fantastic.

Some dear old friends came over with their two kids, and we reheated the Whole Foods stuffing and gravy. We set out the Whole Foods cranberry sauce and the Whole Foods dinner rolls. We drank wine, ate turkey and our guests' ham, oinked it up on Whole Foods pumpkin pie covered with whipped cream (straight from the aerosol container).

(Later on I found out the dinner rolls weren't actually fully cooked; I was supposed to heat them for 7-9 minutes at 375 degrees. I did think they tasted a little funny, but it was the only portion of the entire dinner Maggie would eat. Note to self: next time I order a holiday dinner from the grocery store, read the directions instead of just blithely deciding what to reheat and what to serve cold.)

Friday: We have all the glorious leftovers with none of the work! This morning, I tackled the kids and we did our schoolwork as soon as I finished my coffee. (Another new nonnegotiable - if you're my kid, and you want to get along with me, you do your spelling or reading first thing in the morning during holidays. If you behave well, it will take ten minutes and our whole day can be full of fun, playdates, sand, dirt, whipped cream, and Parmesan cheese Barbies. If you behave poorly, it can take all morning, and then your morning will be full of spelling and your sister's morning will be full of fun, playdates, sand, dirt, whipped cream, and Parmesan cheese Barbies. Elli and Maggie were fast learners - twenty minutes (10 minutes per kid) and we were en route to ChildWatch at the YMCA, where they played Polly Pocket and I got to work out.) And now I'm writing this from the waiting room at the other gym, the kiddie gym, where they are playing on the trampoline and the balance beams, and I'm getting ready to go home and eat some more.