Precocious Daughter and I made Christmas cookies together, and apart from the first batch of sugar cookies, which had either too much flour or not enough milk because when we chilled the dough it came out like a couple of little bowling balls and even after it warmed up never got soft but just became like room temperature little bowling balls that cracked down the middle when we tried to roll them out but still tasted OK because of course I hated to throw away a whole batch of cookie dough so I kept it around and picked pieces off it until my stomach hurt because I almost never eat sweets...
...they turned out quite well.
PDaughter did most of the work, because she wanted to, with a bit of supervision in delicate areas like pouring a tablespoon of milk from a gallon jug and rolling balls of dough for the peanut butter kisses. Turns out she dislikes getting raw dough on her hands. I don't get it, either - are you supposed to use a spoon or something? Highfalutin af. I love her anyway.
We baked over two nights, and Drummer Boy was there for night 2. He helped, too, by which I mean he made sure I didn't feel awkward for being the only person eating the failed sugar cookie dough. By which I mean he ate the failed sugar cookie dough with me. DB actually is a very good cook AND baker. He just knew this was a mom-daughter thing and let us get on with it.
Also, I'm not sure having three people in my apartment kitchen would go well. I think it would end up like a game of culinary Twister, with the hot stove being red and the open bag of flour being green and my glass mixing bowl being blue and somebody's ribs being yellow. And you don't even get to enjoy collapsing in a heap because the floor is covered with broken glass and flour.
When the cookies were done, we divided them up. Some for us, some for DB, some for PBoyfriend, and...some for PDaughter's dad.
Yes, I made Christmas cookies for my ex-spouse. In front of my boyfriend.
That's not weird, is it?
My ex always loved Christmas cookies. He loved my Christmas cookies. They made him happy, and even though we're divorced, he still misses my cookies.
I promised PDaughter that we would make enough to share with him. We were already divvying them up three ways; four ways wasn't going to make any difference
And...even though we're divorced, it makes me happy that my cookies make him happy. I'm not a monster, despite what you've heard. (By the way, let me know what you've heard. I could use a good seethe/cry/revenge fantasy.)
Technically, I didn't have to tell DB that we were funneling Christmas cookies to my ex. He wouldn't have known otherwise. But I told him. Partly because I was a little embarrassed, partly because it seemed an unnecessary omission to just not mention it.
And he was fine with it. As I knew he would be. He's awesome that way.
Here's the thing: Every interaction with my ex has two possible outcomes. I can do the jerky thing just to be petty. Or I can do the kind and generous thing, even if it means biting my tongue or going out of my way to be nice.
Leaving aside the unspoken third thing: That I can emotionally emancipate myself enough to set appropriate ex-spouse boundaries without feeling guilty or resentful.
It's Christmas, but even Clarence the Angel couldn't deliver that miracle. I'm more likely to find a Hatchimal under my tree. Or watch "Hannibal" with PDaughter without moaning and squirming in disgust. Or finally publish that damn book.
You get the idea.
Anyhoo...We baked cookies, we shared them with people some of us love, it's freaking Christmas.
I wish a very Merry Christmas to everyone. Even if you're not Christian. I'm not Christian, but I still dig Christmas. Really.
Be happy, Drunkards. I love you all. Be happy.
I hope you have cookies. If not, let me know. I'll bake you some. Really.
Happy actual fucking Holidays, you guys.