Today is December 20th. Today is Christmas Cookie Day. Today is the anniversary of Abbi’s adoption finalization. Today is a big day.
We don’t call today “Gotcha Day,” like so many people do. You “get” a cold. You “get” a loaf of bread from the grocery. You don’t “get” a daughter. We don’t even call today “Adoption Day,” because it somehow misses the point. If I absolutely had to pick a name, I think I might call today “Family Day.” Today is a celebration of our family. It’s not the day we became a family and it’s not the day Abbi became our daughter. No, today is simply the day the law recognized what we had known all along- Abbi is our child, always has been, always will be. Tonight we’ll eat some Cajun food as a way of celebrating where we were one year ago today, but before then is cookie time!
One of my favorite Christmas memories from childhood is making Christmas cookies. Mom made the dough the day before and let it chill over night. Justin and I always doubted that she had made enough, especially as we liked to snick bits here and there as we worked. We rolled out the dough, cut our shapes, Mom carefully transferred them to the cookies sheet, the house filled with the smell of deliciousness, and soon we were meticulously icing and arranging sprinkles (Well, I was being meticulous at least. Justin, not so much.) By the end of the afternoon, we wondered why Mom had made so many and if we’d ever reach the end of the pile. Dad arrived home from work and invariably asked if we had burned any for him. Our Christmas cookies were precious and carefully guarded- we rationed them and savored them and looked forward to Cookie Day every year.
This year, I’m the mom. I’ve been the mom for a couple years now, of course, but this is the first time we’ve been in our own house for Christmas and Abbi has been old enough to help. I’ve been so looking forward to today and have promised my mom pictures galore. However, here are things I didn’t count on:
1.) My cookie cutters double as play-doh toys, so prior to making cookies I had to search the playroom (and various household cupboards and drawers) to find where Abbi had hidden all her treasures.
2.) If cutting one Christmas tree is fun, then cutting three is triple the fun. To a 2 year old, overlapping the trees is no worries. Translation: Some of our cookies are abstract at best.
3.) As soon as the first morsel of dough found its way to Abbi’s mouth, the ballgame changed pretty dramatically. Her little eyes lit up and she proclaimed, “I like it!” From that moment on, every spoon, cutter, and shape was on a one-way trip to her mouth. My attempts to intercept only added to the fun of the game.
4.) Sometime between when I originally set the oven for 215* C (~425* F) and when I put in the first batch of cookies, Ab reset the oven for 100* C (~210*F). While we waited for the oven to heat up again, I cleaned Abbi up and she got down to play.
5.) Apparently my rolling pin makes a great truck. Before rolling out the second batch, I had to follow the trail of flour to find my rolling pin, adorned with very suspicious lick marks, stashed on top of the toy shelf.
6.) It is nearly impossible to take pictures of Cookie Day. I’m covered in flour and my daughter can ingest an alarming quantity of cookie dough in the two seconds it takes me to snap a quick picture. Out of curiosity, I revisited my childhood picture album. Sure enough, the first picture I have of Cookie Day is when I was 8 and Justin was 4. After seeing that, I feel pretty good about the 4 pictures I got from this morning.
Yes, this morning was nothing like how I envisioned it. But here’s the thing. I was standing at the table, covered in flour, rescuing misshapen cookies, snatching dough before it reached the mouth, ready to be frustrated…and then I remembered. I get to be the mom. And I only get one chance at this. Abbi won’t be two forever. Someday I’ll have an impeccably clean kitchen with everything in its place. All my cookie dough will end up on cookie sheets and my cookie angels will have both wings attached. I’m so glad today is not that day. Who cares if the kitchen is a wreck? Who cares if our cookies look nothing like trees and bells and angels? Who cares if Abbi ate more dough than she cut? Who cares if the cutters were licked or the rolling pin took a drive across the carpet? Today I made Christmas cookies with my daughter. I am so grateful. (After nap we’ll bust out the icing and the sprinkles. I might wait till Eric gets home for that part. Icing might require backup!)
Mommy's Little Helper
Notice that she's holding only half of a gingerbread man. See those cheeks? Suspiciously chunky.
