We Finally Finished It!
Christmas approaches. I have heady visions of baking my own gingerbread house and perfectly photographing it. The second week of December, my husband leaves town for days, and I decide maybe I'll make our gingerbread house with graham crackers. A few more days pass, desperation sets in, and amid the 900,000 other Christmas-related things I must do, I relegate myself to a gingerbread house kit I found in the grocery store for $12. Weeks of thinking we'd have this glorious time together as a family and decorate a gingerbread house went by as a fantasy. Then Geoff's dad, Glenn, arrived in town a few days before Christmas, and that very night I dropped a dollhouse on my toe. I writhed in the floor screaming like I was giving birth. Despite this hilarity, everyone was silent. I could not cook or entertain anyone; I was propped up. While Glenn was here, he and Geoff assembled the gingerbread house, but after two attempts to decorate it, it just kept falling apart, so we had to let the structural integrity dry for a few days. Then Christmas passed, and it got shoved back on the counter behind other dishes and priorities. In January, I finally gave up and let my 4-year-old do it by himself so everyone else in the house could take a nap! Take that, Martha Stewart! I took a nap. Oh, and also, I let them eat as much of it as they wanted, and made them PB&J for dinner. Geoff and I had a decent meal, well-rested, and peaceful conversation. Way better than anything I had visions of. And way better than sugarplums.