We made plans over the phone. My only request, would she mind buying some dough so I could make cinnamon rolls. She planned the rest of the food - and it was a very ambitious menu: ham, eggs, bacon, biscuits, side dishes, crab toast, etc.
She wouldn't listen to any of my suggestions.
We arrive at the house Christmas Eve. No dough in the house.
Mom, didn't I ask you to buy dough?
Yes, and I looked at it in the store - but it just seemed so confusing.
But you don't have to do anything with it - I was going to make the cinnamon rolls. All you had to do was buy the dough and I will do the rest.
But I don't like cinnamon rolls.
They aren't for you - they are for the kids.
I couldn't figure out which ones to buy.
No problem, I will call my husband and ask him to pick some up.
My mother is very concerned about cooking the meal. She is stressed, but not willing to hand over any of the meal to me. I suggest we wake up early and I will help cook everything. She takes me up on it.
She waked me at 5 am - I didn't mean THIS early. I drag my travel tired body out of a warm bed. I am sleepy, but happy to help.
We start cooking. She looks at me and says, do you mind if I go wrap a gift really quick and I will be right back... I don't see her again for 5 hours.
I make the ham, scramble eggs, finish my beloved cinnamon rolls, cook - cook - cook. I am feeling a little like Cinderella - just here for the work. It feels very strange. Somehow this went from a shared experience to me all alone preparing a meal for 20.
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