We've done it ten times now, and there are some constants, as there would be with any birthday parties. What's changed, however? The gifts. Toys are gone; jewelry has arrived.
10th Party
Ten
K and I woke about the time we arrived at the hospital ten years ago.
We were eating breakfast at the time I was filling out paperwork and K was wearily filling in her midwife on the progress thus far.
By the time the kids were up, K was in the huge tub preparing for a water delivery.
When L was opening her present, she was still almost an hour away from delivery. By the time E was licking the maple syrup off his plate after a birthday breakfast of French toast, L was getting closer but still not there.
By the time my students were partaking in their improvised opłatek celebration, K was holding a clean and fragrant little girl who had already taken over our lives entirely.
By the time our neighbor Santa arrived, Nana and Papa had already arrived and been reveling for some time in their new status as Nana and Papa.
Ten years and everyone around us, except for L, wonders how the time disappeared so quickly. Hasn’t L always been this tall? Hasn’t E always been tagging along behind her?
School Opłatek 2016
Early Christmas
A package for Christmas from the Polish shop.
Plums in chocolate, finger-sized sausages ("You can eat as many of those as you want this summer in Poland," I told E when he fussed about not being able to eat yet another bit), fermented rye flour for soup (L requested it for her birthday meal -- that's my Polish girl!), fat links of sausage, German coffee (the type I always bought in Poland -- Tchibo Exclusive, which you can get from Amazon, but it's not the same, is it?), and other goodies.
When I got home, K excitedly led me to the front door to show me a box sitting by the door. "How wonderful," I thought, not realizing what was in it.
How wonderful, indeed.
The Boy’s Show
Motives
“I’m not putting it up.” The kid has a book bag on his shoulder at the start of fifth period — verboten in our school. “I told all the other teachers, too.”
How did this happen? How did no one come down on you like a ton of bricks for such insubordination? How come your mentor, who works in this building, didn’t say something? How come I’m making assumptions?
“Why?” I asked.
“Because my locker is beside Samuel’s locker, and it stinks, and every day my bookbag stinks, and I’m not going to have it stinking anymore.”
Do you not realize that most teachers are so imminently reasonable that they would find your reluctance reasonable and offer a solution? I explain this to him.
“Now, explain to me your problem just like I showed you.”
He does. I offer to let him lock his bookbag in my closet until we can work out a solution.
“Thank you,” he says on the way out.
That all problems could be so easily solved.
Concert 2016
Goofing
Meat
When we woke up, it was twenty-seven degrees outside. For South Carolina, that’s cold, especially in December. The really low temperatures like that don’t usually hit until January and February. It creates a challenge for the day’s activity: smoking of the holiday meat.
With twenty-some pounds of pork loin, a rack of ribs (for soups), and several pounds of chicken to smoke, I’m going to have a long, cold day in such weather.
Fortunately the Boy comes out to help.
At least for a while.
Teaching Tasting
The Boy really wants to learn how to cook, so we’ve begun, somewhat unplanned, to recognize spices.
When I gave him cinnamon, he wrinkled his nose a bit, took another sniff, then asked, “Did we put that in the sauce for Thanksgiving?” I nodded my head. “Oh, it’s crunched up cinnamon sticks!”