Dec 23, 2014 | moments & memories
We’re gearing up for our first Christmas in Portland. Although we’ve lived here three full years, this is actually our fourth Christmas since we moved at the end of October in 2011. And Santa has yet to visit us out here – hahaha.
Why? Because we’ve been heading back to the Philadelphia area to do our Christmasing since the big move. Adjusting to the holidays has been like pulling off a Band-Aid verrrrrrrry slowly for us. The first year we lived here, we literally found a house, settled, and moved into it on December 15, flew home December 16 and stayed back East for three weeks. The year after that, we skinnied it down to about two / two and a half weeks. Last year, we traveled East for Thanksgiving AND Christmas.
Yea. This endeavor is best summed up by that picture above. It’s what we’ve come to call Christmas in a Box. As in our Clark family Christmas literally packed up in boxes – riding the UPS sleigh back and forth across the country. As in Santa would do some shopping here in Portland, some online shopping with direct shipping to the East Coast, and then Mom and Dad (i.e. me and Kenny) would pack it all back up into these handy-dandy Home Depot moving boxes and ship all the Christmas goodies back to our home in Oregon.
Unfortunately, this whole endeavor was not sponsored by Home Depot as those boxes might have you believe. And last year, we spent about $1,200 on shipping. Nope. That’s not a mistake. That’s an actual expense. And one that was parallel to our plane tickets. Needless to say the shipping costs more than cancelled out any frugal shopping we’d done. We’d spend so much money with UPS that’d we’d joke with family and friends that they should buy stock, because we were certainly doing our part to keep profits up. Haha.
Yes, I know how crazy that looks. And sounds. Because it is.
But, you see, when you make a significant life change like moving across the country, it’s hard – really, really hard – to adjust life-long traditions and reset expectations. Not only our own traditions and expectations, but also those of our entire immediate and extended family. So, if you’re like us, you’re more than happy to make the investment – and have the Christmas you’ve always had.
We worked hard to preserve the Christmas we knew as a family in Philadelphia for as long as we could. Going to church in familiar places on Christmas Eve. Spending quality time with loved ones. Visiting house after house sharing Christmas cheer (and by that, I mean wine. Lots of wine.). And we are incredibly grateful we had the means to do so, and that our families worked hard to make our extended visit comfortable. It helped make the transition of our move a little easier for everyone involved – mostly Kenny and me, but also our family and friends. It allowed us all to preserve our very favorite time of year exactly as we’d come to love it – together. It made our hearts – if not our savings account – happy.
Sadly, at some point, practicality trumps your heart, right?
We realized our kids are getting older and that we were missing the joy of having them wake up in their own house on Christmas morning. We’d never watched them come down our own steps here in Portland excitedly peeking around the corner to see if Santa, had indeed, filled a few of their wishes. We’ve never celebrated Christmas Mass in our own parish. (I should couch that we’ve not even been Chreasters since we’ve moved to Portland, but I definitely have Catholic guilt and would like to turn that ship around in 2015. Even still, Mass during the Christmas season has always been my favorite.) (Oh, and if you’re not Catholic, and potentially not a Philadelphia-area Catholic, a Chreaster is someone who only goes to church on Christmas and Easter. Not sure if this is a Philadelphia term or something more widely used? Christmas + Easter = Chreaster. It’s not necessarily a complimentary term – hahaha.) We’ve never really spent the time doing the whole Christmas thing in the place we now call home – and, to be honest, have done various levels of (not) decorating over the past few years depending on how much time we’d be spending in Portland. Last year, we didn’t even get a tree, and the kids like to remind me of that every so often. Haha.
Basically, we’ve never really spent enough time in our new home town to establish our own holiday traditions or memories.
Does that matter? Well, I am not sure yet. A few days out, and I am sensing the Portland Clarks may be a little sad we aren’t home with our families. We’re feeling nostalgic. For sure. At the same time, being here with just the four of us and nothing to do is kinda nice. Kenny and I have both had a particularly busy year with work travel, so it’s actually pretty special to have quiet time together, planning our Christmas Eve and Christmas Day – no real agenda to drive. It’s one of those things where you know you made the best choice, but your heart can’t reconcile it completely. There’s a little Christmas Past shaped hole, but it’s surrounded by the goodness, warmth, and our very closest loved ones. Just not as many as we’re used to having around.
Dec 18, 2014 | trying to raise humans
If I ever lose Grace’s birth certificate and cannot obtain a back-up, this spelling practice test is awesome proof that she was born in the Philadelphia-area and spent the first three years of her life there, yea?
The spelling word? Use.
The sentence example I gave: I need to use a knife to chop this onion. (That’s some stellar working mom multi-tasking right there – making dinner and telling the story of how I am making dinner to help practice spelling with my First Grader.)
What she wrote? Yous.
The only thing more perfect would have been if the next word on her list was “guys”. That would’ve nailed. Whadda yous guys think?
Non-Philadelphia friends, this wiki gives greater insight into Philadelphia English and may help you interpret some of the things that come out of my mouth. Enjoy. 🙂
As for Grace, I can only hope she keeps a tiny bit of her birthplace in her heart always – even subconsciously. And doesn’t taint the rest of her class with her original dialect. 😉
Nov 27, 2014 | moments & memories
We’re looking forward to an awesome Thanksgiving meal with our neighbors later today. It was so nice of them to include the transplants (that’s us!) in their annual tradition.
We were put in charge of pies.
I have no idea where to buy pies in Portland since I’ve only made one Thanksgiving meal since we’ve moved here, and I think I made my pies from scratch that year. I think. Making pies to bring to someone’s house for a meal that includes 14 adults and eight kids is a *bit* too much pressure on my lackluster baking skills, so I instead set out to find some kick-ass Portland-area pies.
I looked into it, and stumbled upon Pacific Pie Co.
And by the looks of it, I am glad I did. Check these babies out!
We got these at the NW 23rd Street location, and we picked them up yesterday. I always panic about parking when I go to this part of town, so I was PSYCHED when I found a spot right on 23rd, that looked (on Google maps) to be about three blocks from Pacific Pie Co. The kids were off from school, so I had them with me.
We set out walking down NW 23rd. And walking. And walking. And walking. Gavin asked no less than three times if I was sure I parked on the right street. Grace pointed out every parking spot that was closer than the one I chose. Hahaha. I did begin to wonder if I had perhaps, gotten it wrong. A check of Google maps confirmed we only had a block and a half to go, so we kept going. Finally – we spotted it. The kids cheered. And suddenly, I got a bit nervous about having to carry three pies back all that distance.
The shop / restaurant is totally adorable. They serve savory and sweet pies for lunch and dinner on a daily basis. Who knew!? The menu was intriguing, so we are definitely going back to try it.
They brought out my handmade pies – Pumpkin, Apple Sour Cream and Chocolate Peanut Butter. The gal who was getting everything together for us asked if I knew about the pie plate deposit. I had, but had forgotten. My stomach dropped a little bit more – the three pies I was already a bit nervous about carrying back to the car just got significantly heavier: each was in a glass pie plate!
I paid and stacked the pies, and we set off. I made it quite a few blocks before I had to call in the muscle reserves, i.e. Gavin. Funnily enough, he had tied his sweatshirt around his neck because it was 60 degrees out and he was hot, so he looked like some sort of pie carrying hero. I dubbed him Pie Guy:
Pie Guy carrying a Pacific Pie Co. pie for his mom.
He lasted two blocks. Then I carried all three pies two more blocks. Then I needed him to pitch in again for the last block again. Hahaha.
What was Grace doing? Skipping along beside us, singing Taylor Swift songs and occasionally providing some encouraging words like, “Those pies must be heavy. I am glad I don’t have to carry one.” And occasionally she provided some pointers like, “Gavin, your pie is crooked. You should make sure it’s even so it doesn’t get smushed on one side.” That’s our Grace – always “helpful” / entertaining. Hahahaha.
In any case, we made it to the car, and the pies made it home in tact. The look amazing and I can’t wait to try some later today. And go to the gym tomorrow to build up my arm muscle endurance. But first – pie.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Nov 27, 2014 | trying to raise humans
Thought this would be a nice little conversation piece to share as my friends around the country settle in for a lovely Thanksgiving meal. So much to discuss here, yea?
In case you’re wondering – as I did when she handed it me after art class – it’s a turkey drumstick. (Yes, I paid for this to happen.)
My take? He’s distressed about being eaten. Hence the crazy eyes, maniacal smile and spittle / sweat droplets. He’s not a soccer goalie as Kenny incorrectly assessed. He’s wearing a Pilgrim hat that is not complete.
One thing is certain, today I am thankful for Grace and her delightful art pieces.
Xo.
Nov 20, 2014 | trying to raise humans
Grace upon watching me fold laundry: “Mommy, have you done laundry by yourself? Like without Daddy here to help? Without Daddy here to watch you? Wow!”
She was dead serious. To be fair, Kenny usually does do the laundry – he pulls double duty on the weekends and folds it all while watching soccer. (Yes, yes, I am onto his tricks, but folding laundry isn’t my favorite thing to do. I’d much rather scrub the toilets.) (No, not really.)
Gavin upon taking a shower after I scrubbed the bejeez out of the shower doors: “Mom, come look! The shower door! You can see through it all the way!”
Yep, that’s called “clean”, buddy. Don’t get used to it. (Aside – I hate shower doors. Really. Truly. They are the worst. ever. We never had them growing up – we used shower curtains. Easy enough – they look dirty? Throw them out and replace. Shower doors look dirty? Grab your sander and hope and pray you can get the soap scum off.) (Not really, but I’ve often wondered if that would be more effective / easier.)
Grace as we were discussing what to have for dinner (as in take out) one afternoon: “When you were in New York last week, Daddy made us spaghetti and meatballs! AND DUMPLINGS. With rice and broccoli and soy sauce.”
I didn’t tell her that I had made the meatballs for them before I left. Instead, I made a mental note to remind Santa that Kenny needs an apron for Christmas this year.
Moral of this story?
It’s time for a cleaning service.
And I know I shouldn’t take the rug rats’ comments too seriously. Afterall, I had to tell Grace that showing her butt cheeks in Chipotle isn’t appropriate this week. What does she know about laundry and cooking dinner? Hahaha.
