Undone CHRISTmas Part Two: Gingerbread Houses are Meant for Eating

The Undone CHRISTmas part two. That’s what we’ve got here. You see, gingerbread houses are meant for eating. I finally figured that out. I know…it took me a while. Anyhoo…as I mentioned in my last post, The Undone CHRISTmas, I’m learning the practice of letting go. Letting go of this whole perfection thing that adds so much stress to our lives. Especially at Holiday time.

Anyone else struggle with this? Often, we find ourselves so busy in creating the ‘picture perfect’ holidays, that we miss the joy in them altogether. As we grow older and look back at these memories, will we be happier we got great pictures of  our ‘perfect’ holidays we don’t remember? Or more fulfilled with the memories we made during the imperfect holidays? And really…isn’t this the thing we should be focused on all year long?

I love traditions and creating special moments during the holidays, but I’m learning to embrace a more casual and relaxed attitude towards those traditions. For example, every year (okay…most) I buy one of those pre-made ginger bread houses at Target. The ones that are all cut and cooked and all you have to do is put it together and decorate it with the provided frosting and candy. And every year, we assemble it, my son and I, and we (I) carefully place all the candy as it is pictured on the package. Because. Rules. I am a rule follower…and…it looks so pretty the way they have it pictured. Sure, we may sample one or two pieces of candy along the way. I’m not so uptight that we can’t do that. BUT…we don’t eat many. So we assemble, and build and decorate. Then, I take a picture of my boy with the newly created gingerbread house and post on Instagram for ALL to see how amazing it is! Picture perfect! After that, we’d set it atop the counter to display through Christmas. Occasionally, I’d let the kid break one small piece of candy off to eat. But, “Only one, kiddo, only one!”

This year, with my mind focused less on produced perfection and more on authentic experiences and pure joy, I was intentional with this ginger bread house making business. I wasn’t even sure if the 12 year old would be interested in this tradition anymore. With so many of our previous things cast aside by his middle school coolness, I knew this was a stretch…but I bought one of the houses anyway. As I unpacked the groceries that day, he saw it on the counter and his eyes actually lit up!

“Awesome, a gingerbread house! Thanks Mom!”

Yes, it’s true. My heart melted a bit, because it’s hard to get much emotion towards me squeezed out of this little man these days.

“You’re welcome! I thought we could do it tomorrow.”

And so we did. But this time, I stepped back. I paused. And I let it happen…as it should. Without plans, and rules, and perfection.

Together, we used our hands to apply the frosting and brace the walls together. And then the roof. From there, I let the boy take the reigns. Yes, I did. He applied the chimney, and the front door.

As I stepped away, I said, “There. Now that we’ve got it built, you go ahead and decorate it.”

“Really?” He asked as his eyes smiled.

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’ll start mixing up the Christmas cookie dough”.

And so he did. All. By. Himself. Without any, ‘you should put that there, and put this here’, from me. He had full creative authority. After about ten minutes or so, he tells me he’s done.

“Mom, come see!”

As I walked over to the table, I saw a sparsely decorated ginger bread house. Only a few pieces of candy on it. Far less than previous years. And nothing like the picture on the package, as in previous years. But you know what? It was the best darn gingerbread house EVER.

Because this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You guys. It’s a Gingerbread Man with chest hair. Yes. That’s what he told me. The spearmint gummy is his chest hair. I mean, come on. We all know I would’ve never had such creative genius to do that!

After I stopped laughing, a bit of my old controlling ways crept in.

“Sooooo, is that all you’re going to decorate then? You’re done?” As soon as I said it, I wished I could take it back.

“Yeah! What do you think, Mom?”

Oh my heart swelled. Those eyes. I recognized them. Looking at me for acceptance, searching for the happiness he was trying to give me. Just like all those years ago when he was one. And two. And three….and so on.

“Oh my gosh. I absolutely love it! Especially that guy with the chest hair. That’s hilarious! I LOVE IT!” He looked at his finished product, then back at me, “Mom…can I eat the candy off it now? And eat the Gingerbread house too?”

“Yeah. Sure!”

He paused. Looked at me a little sideways. “Really? But usually you want to put it on the counter and stuff. I can eat it?”

“Yeah! But first, I do have to take a picture of you with it. You know…tradition and all. THEN you can eat it. Just not all at once, okay? Let’s not get sick on Gingerbread men and chest hair.”

That face. That look. It was like I just gave him the best give ever. I grabbed my phone and asked him to just let me take a picture. Of course he argued and tried to negotiate his way out of it. But no way, was he getting out of a quick picture. I mean, I can only let go of the control and perfection so much. Baby steps. You know what I’m saying? And really…even though I wanted a perfect picture of him holding up his gingerbread house, with a big and natural smile on his face, I knew I probably wouldn’t get it. And who cares, because this? This is far better than what I could’ve asked for, planned for, tried for. 

This is the Best Gingerbread House IN ALL THE LAND. And, the best boy too.

Here’s to Undone CHRISTmases, authentic experiences and Pure Joy. Hoping you’ve found them too.