The minute Thanksgiving ended, we entered a tunnel which had Christmas at it's end.  Every move, every thought, every event - it all lead toward Christmas, and if it didn't, then it was an abominable inefficiency and must be eliminated.  Imogen had to stay home from school one day in December because she was sick, and when she finally emerged from her bed she said to me 'I have tunnel vision.'  My first thought was an overwhelming sense of pride in my daughter and I was about to congratulate her when I realized that she was referring to some physical ailment, and I muttered some words of sympathy instead.
     I love Christmas, and, I think, for all the right reasons, so the hub-bub and rush is all very exciting but the older I get the more I feel it needs to be managed so that it doesn't get out of control.  Well, it always does get out of control and this year was no exception.  But I try to take comfort in the fact that although when my children get older they will most likely remember me as stressed out and very busy, perhaps age will bestow upon them wisdom and omniscience so that in all their remembering they will also be able to make the link between my busy-ness and my attempts to give them meaningful experiences
     On the Saturday after Thanksgiving Tim and I took the three older children to see Handel's Messiah performed in the Lincoln Cathedral.

     I find the Messiah to be one of the most beautiful, inspired, and inspiring pieces of music in existence.  For the past three years I have taken Abigail, Imogen and Samuel to see it at Christmastime, and they have had enough exposure to it to the point where we can compare and contrast the different performances - who was the best soprano, alto, bass, tenor; what was the orchestra like; how was the choir, etc.  Two years ago we heard the best soprano ever when we saw a performance in Cambridge, but that performance had a disappointing alto; last year we heard a fantastic alto and tenor, and a impressive cellist, but the first violinist was so underprepared that even we, the non-professional aficionados (and I include my children in that category, not because they want to be aficionados of the Messiah, but because they simply are by virtue of extensive exposure), could identify the vast majority of his mistakes.  This year, the orchestra was magnificent, and the soloists were very good, although the soprano sang with too much vibrato, and it became annoying after a while.  The children won't forget the soloists this year because for the first time they saw a man singing the alto part in falsetto.  They considered this to be so out of the ordinary that the teenager forgot her manners (??!) and had to use all her energy to suppress the giggles, which was noticed by people other than ourselves. 
     Cathedrals are cold, and Lincoln cathedral was no exception.  It was pouring with rain outside, so we arrived very wet, and unfortunately had to sit through the performance feeling damp, which made the cathedral seem even colder.  But the music was beautiful, and the pieces which I particularly noticed this year were 'He shall feed his flock like a shepherd', 'With his stripes we are healed', and 'He trusted in God that He would deliver Him.'  My favorite piece in the Messiah is 'I know that my Redeemer liveth,' and I have insisted that Abigail sing it at my funeral.  Tim joined us for the first time in all our pilgrimages, and it was wonderful to have him with us.
     After the weekend of the Messiah all my energies became focussed on preparing for the Relief Society Christmas workshop on the upcoming Wednesday.  I had already put in loads of hours in preparation but somehow I still ended up with too much to do.  Ummm, yea.  I made 40 advent calenders in 40 decorated bags, each containing 25 scriptures and carols leading up to Christmas, and 40 Christmas Family Home Evenings, complete with visual aids.  The evening was successful and very well attended, so in the end it was worth it. 

 

     The next weekend was the all-important Christmas cake making weekend.  Normally the Christmas cake is done around Stir-Up Sunday, which is always the Sunday after Thanksgiving.  Because Thanksgiving was early this year, I wasn't in a rush to make the cake, so I waited until the weekend after Stir-Up Sunday.  The making of the Christmas cake has to be a family event; I insist, so there is no backing out, not even for the husband.  Everyone is assigned a job, which, considering the cake has about twenty ingredients, isn't too hard to do.  Georgie sliced the glace cherries,

and Samuel chopped the almonds,

Imogen grated the zest from the oranges and lemons,

and Abigail and Nelly were put in charge of beating together the butter, brown sugar, eggs, treacle and marmalade.

Tim had the all-important job of wrapping the cake tin in brown paper and tying it with string to hold it in place (wrapping the cake helps it to cook slower and more evenly so it doesn't burn - that is SO cool!):

 

The final product was beautiful - too bad Tim and I are the only ones who eat Christmas cake!

Things were OK this year because we had 16 people in our house for 4 days over Christmas, so there were plenty of polite eaters who helped us ensure the cake wasn't wasted.
     We decorated our tree the next weekend.  For the past couple of years we have made gingerbread ornaments to go on the tree, and the activity has become quite the tradition.

 

The next Friday I took Georgie, Nelly and Verity - who are our three little ballerinas - to London to see the English National Ballet perform The Nutcracker at the London Coliseum.  It was fantastic!  What made it so wonderful was the fact that we went to one of two special 'under-5's' performances which they put on during the season.  One was on New Year's Day, and the other was on 14 December, which is when we went.  All I have to say, is what an enlightened concept!  It seemed that everyone in the greater London area took their little girl to see the Nutcracker that day.  The place was packed with little children.  As a parent you didn't have to worry about your children being noisy, or fussy, or needing the toilet in the middle of the performance, because everyone around you was noisy, fussy and needing the toilet.  It was a perfect combination of high culture and complete relaxation. 

 

Here are the girls on the tube, going to the performance:

 



Here they are in their seats, ready for the performance to start!

OK, so I splurged and got them ice cream at the interval:

View of the theatre after the performance.



After the performance, for some reason I took them to Harrods to see all the Christmas lights and decorations:

Harrod's food halls are the BEST part of ANY trip to London, especially close to Christmas:

Then it was off to a special trip to McDonalds in Picadilly Circus (the wonders of low expectations!), and then we walked up to Hamley's on Regent Street, the 'finest toy store in the world' which was all decked out for Christmas.

 

 

After a very long day, we got back on the tube, and Verity insisted on reading the tube map and knowing exactly where we were (it was very funny!):

 



     Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I would say it is the best one we have had yet as a family.  It had it's fraught moments of course, and I did stay up until 1am the night before getting it all ready, but the day itself went really smoothly and it was one of those days when all was right with the world.
     We don't live in America, of course, so I have to make extra efforts to make sure my children understand and experience Thanksgiving in the way that Americans do.  That means I take them out of school on Thursday, and I even call off all homework, practicing etc. by about 6pm on the night before Thanksgiving as well.  I love the night before Thanksgiving when so much of the food preparation is happening.  It started this year with our turkey, as I was determined to soak it in brine overnight, so the three little girls helped me assemble the brine, which consisted of all sorts of spices and sugar and onions and oranges, etc.  Here they are squeezing orange juice into the brine:

     They found helping out very exciting, and I even heard comments like 'I love Thanksgiving Eve - that's what this is, isn't it, Mommy, it's Thanksgiving Eve'.  And when the brine was all assembled, they peered into it and Georgiana cried 'Oh, that just looks like Christmas!'

     Next we had to tackle the pastry, for the pumpkin pie and the apple pie.  For this I had to drag in the teenager (that would be Abigail!),

who worked hard at the pastry, but also played hard whilst in the kitchen:

     Once the pastry was done, Imogen did the filling for the pumpkin pie, which ended up being the best pumpkin pie I have ever tasted, so I was very proud:

     Abigail was then put to work making dough for the dinner rolls, and Samuel agreed to do the 7-up salad and green beans:

     All this activity meant that the next morning all I had to do was make the yams and apples, broccoli and cream cheese dish, cranberry sauce and gravy.  We were able to sleep in on Thanksgiving morning, and had a leisurely breakfast of brioche rolls and hot chocolate.  I got a surprise when Georgiana and Eleanor took it upon themselves to do their own family scripture study, an activity which normally seems to underwhelm them (what wonders a day off will do!):

Georgiana and Eleanor then helped me with the yams and apples, each claiming the right to the sole usage of the apple peeler/corer/slicer but finding it in their hearts to share it with one another anyway:

     Then, miracle of miracles, everything was either done or cooking or waiting to be cooked by 11:30am, so I got my heartfelt wish of being able to visit the Guildhall in Boston on Thanksgiving!!  The Guildhall is where they imprisoned the Pilgrim fathers on 23rd September 1607, for trying to escape England for religious freedom.  A group of English separatists, many of whom would later become known as the Pilgrims, were determined to leave England in the early seventeenth century because they were not allowed to practice their Puritan religion and were being forced by law to attend only the Church of England, with which they did not agree.  As if this was not unjust enough, it was also illegal to leave England if you were doing it on the grounds of seeking religious freedom elsewhere!  So, if you were a Separatist, there was no way to follow your conscience legally. 
     Anyway, among the leaders in this group of separatists were two men, William Bradford, and William Brewster, who would later be among the first to sign the Mayflower Compact in 1620.  In 1607, they hired a ship to take them from Boston to Holland, where they could have greater religious freedom - a brave and noble act, but one which was, at the time, illegal.  They got on board the ship, put all their belongings safe below deck, but the captain would not sail the ship.  Finally, the authorities showed up, arrested everyone on board, stole all their goods, and hauled them back into the town center.  Everyone from the ship was imprisoned, in the Guildhall, in these cells which we got to see yesterday:

     I don't know when exactly all the members of the group were released, but the leaders of the group, such as Brewster and Bradford, had to stay in the Guildhall under house arrest for at least a month to await trail, which also took place in the Guildhall, just upstairs from the cells:

     The Guildhall court was a local court, and in the end Brewster and Bradford were told that because their crime was of a severe nature, they had to go to Lincoln for their case to be heard in the larger court.  The locals were sympathetic to Brewster and Bradford, however, so they released them and told them to make their own way to Lincoln for their court hearing.  At that, Brewster and Bradford, of course, disappeared, and spent their time planning how their group of separatists could get to Holland without getting caught, which they managed to do about a year later.
     I love history; I love museums; I love old books; but I was especially moved at the Guildhall because I was overcome with the sense that I was in the same place that these great Pilgrim fathers had been, these people who had great religious convictions and were not afraid to live by them, even when it was dangerous to do so.  They knew that the only way forward was to grant people religious freedom.
     But Boston's connections to the Pilgrims does not stop there.  There was also a man named John Coton who was the preacher in the local church in Boston, called the Stump.   Although it was a Church of England church, he had Puritan sympathies, and preached according to those sympathies.  About eight years after the Pilgrim fathers left, he preached a sermon in the Stump in which he basically said that he had had enough of the Church of England, and didn't feel that England was a place where he could worship according to conscience, and he was moving to the colonies and did anyone want to go with him.  Most of his congregation accepted his proposal, which consisted of about the top third of the wealthiest people in the area!  Here you can see in the distance the tower of the church where he preached:

     These were the people who founded Boston, MA in the US.

     After a thoroughly inspiring trip to Boston (hard to come by, that is), we made it back home in time to finish eveything off and eat by 3:30.  We had Bishop Shami and his family, and the missionaries over, making 16 people in all at dinner:

      After stuffing ourselves with all the fabulous food - and yes, the turkey turned out really well - we played 'Pit' and 'Big Boody'.  Our guests left and we watched Lord of the Rings.  An epic ending to an epic day.

     I said in my last post that during half-term we 'did' Halloween, but didn't include there what that meant.  This year we managed to get all the festivities done in one day, which was an miraculous feat.  I usually have to spread out all the fun over a few days because people just can't seem to pay attention long enough to get it all done.  This year, however, we started out early in the kitchen making Halloween sugar cookies:

While those were baking and cooling, we got on with carving our pumpkins.  Finally, I have some children old enough to be able to carve their own pumpkins, as well as help out with carving the pumpkins of the younger ones!

We got around to breaking out the sugar in the afternoon as we decorated the cookies and some pumpkin cupcakes:

It was then time to get the costumes on and have our Halloween feast.  We dined on witches hair, monster eyeballs in blood, Frankenstiens's toes, and monster guts.  Then Harry Potter (Samuel), Mona the Vampire (Georgie), the little black cat (Nelly) and the tooth fairy got ready to go trick or treating.

Tim set out all our jack-o-lanterns, so that the one family who did come trick or treating to our house was greeted with a welcome sight (no one comes trick or treating to us because we live on a road with lots of old people and somehow no one thinks that they are ready to receive trick or treaters).

This one is Georgie's (she did it all by herself!):

This one is Samuel's.  He is going through a Lord of the Rings obessive phase at the moment:

Abigail and Imogen actually got along well enough to make a joint effort with their jack-o-lantern:

This one is Eleanor's, which matches her costume:

Finally, our little Verity had a pumpkin as well (carved by Mommy, who was going for the easy option):



     It's autumn - the perfect time to be alive.  We had half term last week, and celebrated in style by hill walking in the Peak District, doing Halloween, visiting Grandpa and Grandpa Bleakley, and going to the London Temple.
     The first hill walk we did was up and around Mam Tor, on Monday.  Apparently it was an old Roman Fortress, but all I have to say for it was that it was very windy on the top.  The views were wonderful, though.

     After we walked down the peak of the hill, the wind subsided.  We continued walking along the ridge and without the strong winds, everything was very, very still. 

It was late afternoon, so it was a bit dusky, damp and chilly, wtih autumn leaves around us.  The perfect autumn day, made even more perfect by the perfect autumn treat to keep us going:  gingerbread!

     We spent the night in Sheffield with the angelic Dyson family, who fed us beef and pumpkin stew with yorkshire puddings to revive us.  The next day Tim had to go to a work meeting, but the rest of us braved the hills again and did another walk, this time near a place called Froggart.  We went with Pat Dyson and his grandchildren, Tom and Anna, and his son-in-law, Richard.  We got a little lost at the end, and the walk ended up being about four hours long - more than I had anticipated, but the fresh air and scenery were worth it.

     One purpose of these walks is to get my children to enjoy the seasons, of which I think autumn is the most distinctive.  I was constantly encouraging them to 'look at the autumn colors', an injunction which I was convinced was falling on deaf ears, until suddenly Samuel to me, when we were looking at this beautiful view, 'Look at the colors!'

     There were also boulders upon which to climb,

    
     Edges off which to fall,

    
     Mud in which to lose our shoes (this particular shoe is Georgie's),

    
     Mushrooms on which we could not dine,



     And fairy-tale forests in which to get lost.



     We ended it with a trip to Chatsworth Farm Shop, where we saw their Christmas fair.  The three little girls were going wild over all the Christmas merchandise, and then all of a sudden Georgiana realized that there weren't any other children around and said, 'Shhhh, we need to be quiet - no one else seems to be talking.'  Is this a sign of growing up?  The childlike innocence is fading ....
     I left with smoked wild boar and sticky toffee pudding. Can't think of anything more seasonal.