Christmas Cookies and Chaos
It's Christmas Eve 2010 in the Matheson-Porter household and that means cookies, chaos, and green chiles.
Author's Note: Thank you to xyber116 for beta'ing this one-shot
I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit.
Rachel was rushing around the living room rounding up stray Duplos and stuffed animals listening to the sound of Charlie happily playing with her quarter of the sugar cookie dough, singing alternating bits of the Chipmunks' Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and the Batman Smells version of Jingle Bells at the top of her lungs. Maybe they needed to look into another daycare. A three-(almost four)-year-old really shouldn't be singing that version. People would think she's a bad parent. But it was the best one close to the DOD field office… Rachel assiduously turned off her work-brain. She'd turn it back on Dec. 27th, now it was time for family, for why else did she get in bed with Randall Flynn?
The house was full of the competing odors of baking sugar cookies, posole simmering in the crock-pot, and the undressed Christmas tree in the corner – the smell of Christmas. Danny was standing quietly in his Jumperoo starting at one of the flashing, spinning monkeys. Rachel was worried about his developmental delays, he should be trying to stuff the monkey into his mouth or at least reaching for it, but he was alive, and breathing, which was far better than the prognosis they were given a year ago.
The oven timer went off, and Rachel dropped her handful of toys off in the toy box before dodging around a gleeful Charlie mashing her cookie dough whilst bouncing on her Dora the Explorer step stool.
Rachel grabbed the oven mitts and used them to bop Charlie gently on the head, "Don't eat the dough, silly goose."
"I weren't. And I'm not a goose," Charlie exclaimed before returning her dough blob to the counter.
Rachel grinned and pulled out the last of the Christmas cookies. She had made the Gingersnaps and Peanut Butter Blossoms last night after Ben put the kids to bed. Rachel lifted the parchment paper up off of the cookie sheet, and transferred the Christmas trees, stars, and Santa Clauses to the wire rack to cool.
From the vantage point of the quiet corner of the kitchen, Rachel looked around the house – Charlie was entertained, Danny was entertained, Ben was upstairs in the office/guest bedroom trying desperately to get some work done, the house was mostly clean (boxes of Christmas tree ornaments excepted) – and it was only 2:15. Mom and Dad had texted a little bit ago saying that they had landed, but with the holiday traffic and bit of snow on the ground, it would probably take them an hour to get through O' Hare and to the house. She had time.
"Hey Ben!" she shouted upstairs, "Can you come watch the kids? I have to listen to the radio." Code for: wrap the presents.
A muffled, "In a minute," echoed down to her. She used the three minutes to pull one stuffed purple moose out from underneath the couch, and two mismatched socks, and hide the toy box in the closet.
After passing the baton, Rachel hurried upstairs, turned on some soft Nutcracker Suite and began wrapping the soothing rectangular boxes. She knew this evening was going to be utter chaos with her parents coming, the tree to dress – a Matheson family tradition to wait until Christmas Eve – Christmas cookies to decorate – Mom desperately wanted to decorate cookies with Charlie, even though Rachel knew Charlie didn't yet have the patience or the fine motor skills – and posole to eat. This was the first year Ben had given in on that particular Porter Christmas tradition. Hopefully, he'll like her posole so much; she'd be able to keep up the tradition.
Rachel had gotten halfway through the small mountain of gifts for the kids – they had spent way too much, especially given Danny's medical bills, but Charlie still deserved a memorable Christmas – when some sort of catastrophe occurred downstairs.
She never found out what exactly happened, but she was greeted with the sights and sounds of Danny back-arched, screaming his little lungs out, Charlie throwing bits of dough, and Ben commanding her, clearly on his last nerve, "Go to the time-out stair, we don't throw things."
Rachel grabbed Danny out of his jumperoo, swaying and susurrating to soothe him, while being bombarded with bits of dough. Ben had divested a screaming Charlie of her projectiles and manhandled her to the time-out stair, and Rachel had just settled Danny, right as the doorbell rang. Of course. Murphy's Law.
Rachel – her hair and sweater dotted with dough-bits – carrying a snotty and freshly re-sobbing Danny answered the door to welcome her parents into her home. Oh shit, she hadn't scrubbed the soap scum from the tub! Mom and Dad were shivering in their extra-thick winter coats, their thin Texan blood not used to the harsh Chicago winter. Rachel juggled Danny, the door, and the coat closet, while Ben stood over a sulky Charlie, keeping her to the set three-minute cool-down time despite the glittering attraction of new people.
Once shed of her coat, Mom spent some quality time with 'Grandma's little cuddle-bug', and Rachel hugged her father with great relief, she was so glad to see them. There was just something about being in Dad's arms, a feeling of warmth and security that was almost unrivaled.
Once Charlie had settled down, she was released to greet her grandparents and Dad proceeded to share a somber tale about starving kids in Laos, a story that always used to scare Rachel straight.
The 'menfolk' moved the Christmas tree into the center of the living room and began stringing lights, and after 20 minutes of searching, Rachel thought she found all of the pieces of dough.
Rachel took a fussy Danny upstairs for a somewhat belated 3 o'clock feeding and nap while Mom whipped up some of her famous (and illegally calorie-dense) frosting.
When Rachel returned, she saw Charlie having a blast slathering the sugar cookies with green, red, and purple frosting. Mom had some sort of sixth sense, and knew exactly how many cookies Charlie could frost before getting frustrated, and then sent her around the living room displaying her work for all to admire and sample. Everyone in the Matheson-Porter family enjoyed their cookie, and then it was time to trim the tree.
Ben handily averted another Charlie-melt-down by preemptively explaining that her ornaments – mostly construction-paper handprint reindeer and glitter-covered pinecones – needed to be placed in the best spots, and only she could find them. The adults focused on placing the shatter-resistant – not shatterproof, Charlie had empirically proven that last year – globe ornaments.
The tree was trimmed, Dad was delighting Charlie of tales of Rachel as a little girl, and Ben was setting the table, when Danny woke up. Rachel got Danny, changed his diaper, and returned to the Rockwellesque scene of her lovely family getting ready for Christmas Eve dinner. Charlie was proudly placing folded napkins, Ben was warming up the store-bought tortillas, and Mom was garnishing the posole. What had she done to deserve this? Rachel sniffled into Danny's Choo-choo train onesie before settling him in his high chair.
Once seated, there was a small scuffle over 'the green stuff' Mom had put on Charlie's bowl, and Charlie looked askance at the white 'wormy' hominy, but she was persuaded to try it, and actually liked it – especially the pork.
Dad grudgingly said, "The posole is pretty good, despite your lack of access to true green chiles."
Rachel just laughed at his grumpiness and retorted, "Just because they came in a can, doesn't mean they aren't true Hatch chiles."
Over dessert, Mom filled them in – in an ever so slightly smug manner – on the family gossip. One of the cousins had been arrested for possession with the intent to distribute, again.
Tummy full of posole and cookies, Charlie went to bed with little fuss, and even despite his late nap, Danny was exhausted by all of the excitement, and fell asleep after just a bit of Grandpa cuddle-time. Ben took Danny up to bed, and also to get some work done, leaving the three Porters sipping hot cocoa around the tree. And there, by the kitchen calendar, was another bit of cookie dough sticking valiantly to the wall. Rachel chuckled into her cocoa.
- Author's Note: Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :)