Deck the Halls With Christmas Javelinas

I am not a fan of Christmas. I have been consciously avoiding the holiday as much as possible for the last nine years.

Something happened this year as Christmas grew near. I agreed to a Christmas tree - the first in nine years - and we ended up with a gloriously huge frasier fir that takes up half the dining room and touches the ceiling. I decided to make cookies and today I made dozens of peanut butter blossoms, dozens of sugar cookies, almond bark snowman things, and two batches of gingerbread. The kids helped decorate and were delighted that I gave them free reign - zombie snowmen and erratically decorated gingerbread - I let them have at it. The pile of candy left over after decorating gingerbread is insane. The kids played hide and seek and helped me with cookies and are now watching "Elf." They are happy.

As I prepared for the Christmas of the Century, I read through old cookie recipes and looked for craft ideas (we're making the ornaments on the tree - fruit and popcorn and paper chains). I found a four page recipe and description for a gingerbread house that I cut out of a magazine in 1996. I decided that this year I am making it. I actually made two batches of dough today - the kids made one dimensional houses covered in icing and candy. I carefully made the templates for my 3-D house and baked the pieces. I put the walls together. Tomorrow the roof goes on. It's a three day process, I learned when I read the recipe. Maybe that is why I have never made it before?

It's a combination of domestic/Christmas bug that has gotten to me this year. Part of it is that Bill's kids are here for over a week, my kids are out of school all week, and I took the time off from work to be at home with them. I have the time to do stuff like string popcorn and make gingerbread houses. And make Gingerbread Javelinas to hang on my tree.

"What are these?!" Sophia says in that Lea-You're-Crazy Voice.

"Traditional Christmas Javelinas, made with my javelina cookie cutter," I say.

"What?!"

"Javelinas," I say as I string ribbon through the hole in the top of the cookie.

"My mom has a thing for javelinas," Mary says knowingly.

"What is a javelina?!" Sophie asks again.

"It's these cookies that I am hanging on the tree," I say.

"Aaaagh!" Sophia says, and laughs.

In reality I am clinging to the Christmas Javelina. He is keeping me from completely crossing the line to Christmas Insanity. The Javelina keeps me true to myself. At least that is what I tell myself.