Time Keeps on Ticking

If I said I was worried, I’d be lying. I’m petrified.

Christmas around my Mum’s house is a feeding extravaganza.

1. Prawn Cocktail: shrimp, served on a bed of lettuce, chopped tomatoes and cucumber served with a helping of Thousand Island Dressing.
2. Homemade Lentil Soup: made with a ham hough, cooked in a pressure cooker and served with fresh crusty French bread.
3. Turkey, gravy, cranberry sauce, two veg, roast potatoes, mash potatoes, chipolata sausages wrapped in bacon and a big helping of stuffing.
4. Trifle.
5. Black Forest Gateau or a Pavlova of some sort.
6. After Eight Mints.
7. Crackers and Cheese.
8. Death by Consumption.

You could say it’s a lot like Thanksgiving here. Thanksgiving at my MIL’s is very similar: a huge Turkey dinner with all the trimmings, sides galore and more food than people. Consequently, a combined contribution between both of them could feed a small African country.

Here is my dilemma: I have never cooked Thanksgiving dinner. Ever. Thanksgiving is not a holiday that we have in the UK. We go from Hallowe’en straight to Christmas. Stores put their Christmas decorations up mid-October and Christmas jobs begin around the same time. This is my eleventh Thankgiving and the very first one we are spending as a family, but with no other family around. You may recall we returned to Utah last year to celebrate with Bryan’s family, and on the return journey, spun off the road and lived through a small nightmare. We decided against that this year (especially with the baby) and have opted to stay put this holiday season. So, with that brings the pressure of cooking a Thanksgiving dinner.

Now, I am no stranger to cooking, in fact, I am a total foodie. My cookbook collection expanded by seven books just this year alone. What scares me is the food sychronisation, timing, if you will. I’m totally intimidated by a clock.

I have one week to get my act together.

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I Swear the 9.5 Months Were Longer

It’s hard to believe just over a year has gone by since my little Ian first made his appearance into the world. And what a year it’s been. I have so much love for my wee man, it’s difficult to put into any kind of words. And he’s just as beautiful to me as the day he was born.

It’s amazing to sit back and watch him discover his world, and to learn things without me even showing him first. He has grown and developed so much; physically and mentally. As the days go by, I see how things connect in his brain suddenly, and all of a sudden he has ten skills he didn’t have the day before. He sings, he dances, he wrestles, he dribbles a football, he plays the maracas. He even said baby tonight. Oh, and he loves to fake sneeze – he’s strange.

Bryan and I both had a great time at the little birthday soirée we had for him. Ian doesn’t remember it at all, the ingrate. Seriously though, thanks to everyone who made it really special. It’s hard to see your little one suddenly become an infant and vie for his independence. It’ll only get worse I suppose.