The kids and I started this tradition about five years ago.  Once the tree is up, we turn off all the lights in the living room and turn on the lights to the Christmas tree.  In the glow of the twinkle lights, we curl up on the sofa and read Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.  Admittedly, it’s a bit rough on the eyes, but completely worth it. Atmosphere is everything, and when my children are grown, they will remember how they felt as we read this much loved story.

Though Dickens’ language is a bit complex for my little guys, I believe the more exposure they have to such language, the more naturally they will grow accustomed to it over time. In this edition, the illustrations by P. J. Lynch are lush and expressive, and very helpful when the kids are struggling to understand the words.

About forty years ago, my parents clipped a recipe from the Philadelphia Inquirer called “Philly Pound Cake.” I think my dad has made several batches of these amazing cream cheese pound cakes every year since then. He still makes them as gifts for co-workers, friends, and the mailman. Sometimes keeps them on hand in the freezer as emergency presents when someone shows up unexpectedly to our house with a gift in hand. Whenever he makes a batch, they all get wrapped up, minus one. That one sits on on the counter with a knife nearby, and everyone can walk by a slice off a piece.

One year, when my family visited my parents for Christmas, I walked by the kitchen and noticed several grisly incisions in the pound cake with a butcher knife sunk into the top. Next to the counter was the kitchen stool. Evidently, my two-and-a-half-year-old had helped himself to a piece.

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A new reader named Susan made a comment on the “manners don’t matter? excuse me” post.  She gave an example of how she taught her kids manners with a little toy pig at the table.  Go ahead and read her comment.
Then, since it’s been way too long, and since Thanksgiving is around the corner, I think we should start up a little dialogue about manners.  So, here’s the question:

How do you teach your kids manners for the dinner table?

and, another question for good measure:

What are your favorite family traditions for Thanksgiving?

Not very.  The kids are eating Spaghetti-o’s (Pixar Cars edition–Charlie’s really into Lightning McQueen these days), and I am eating chips and Guacamole (both from Costco).  I have a winter squash soup that I’ll post soon, I promise.

I want briefly to create a buzz about two of my friends who blog.

Some of you may already know Brooke—just about everyone I know knows her.  We crossed paths when we were teenagers (same youth conferences at BYU), and then again in college.   But we never knew each other until her daughter and my son were in kindergarten and their desks were separated when they were talking too much.  Anyway, her blog is called Conversations With a Cupcake.  It’s zany and fun and displays Brooke’s tireless energy and creativity.  Go check it out!

Also, my friend Theresa, who is the sister of my best friend from college, just put up a cool post on how to make edible play dough for your kids.  Never would I have thought of that, nor would I ever have the energy to do something like that since having my second kid, but for all of you supermoms (i.e. Brooke), it looks like a lot of fun!

That’s a picture of my daughter from awhile ago.  I didn’t have any recent pictures I felt like posting, so there it is.

My nieces and nephews call this place Narnia.  Nestled among trees and streams, stand the ruins of an abandoned mill.  We spent a few hours in this lovely place, drinking in the the beauties of a New England fall day.

Emphasis should be placed on the word lucky. I never get to do stuff like that.
And unlucky you—I don’t have the recipe for those gorgeous things.

My sister lives in Western Massachusetts, and she’s been telling me about this unbelievable chocolate shop for years.  This weekend, while we were enjoying the Berkshires in all its fall splendor, we took the kids to Chocolate Springs which was worthy of every cry of praise I’ve heard.

After our trip to chocolate utopia, we stopped at Guido’s, the local gourmet shop, and bought what we needed to make a cheese platter.  You probably can’t tell at first glance, but some of the pears are only a little bigger than the grapes.  The two varieties are called Seckel and Forelle.
We took the platter to my sister’s friend’s house for a fall party.  The word party is a huge understatement, though.  How do you put into one word the epitome of a New England autumn celebration?  There was a huge inflated slide for the kids, a square dance in the barn, a fire ring with s’mores, old fashioned jars full of candy, and crates of freshly picked apples.  It was perfect.

While we were there, I saw a friend from college, and met Gabrielle Blair.  Most of you know her as DesignMom.

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These are by far the easiest dessert and are perfect for a casual get-together.
We get these all natural Italian sodas at Super Target for about $2 a bottle.  The flavors in the picture are Wildberry, Mango Peach (I think), and Blood Orange.
Some fizzy French lemonade would be good as well.

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This is a such a simple chicken salad, it’s not really worth posting, but I wanted to give you at least a little inspiration for the chicken that results from the chicken stock recipe.  I’ll make a more interesting one soon.

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It has been so hot lately (and I think you all know how I feel about that!), but now that the weather is actually pleasant, I’ll take the time to tell you about our little day at the pumpkin farm.  I say little because it lasted all of forty-five minutes.

I had had dreams of a breezy fall day in the crisp cool air.  We would wear thick hand-knit sweaters, pick bushels of apples, find the perfect pumpkins.  Then we’d come in from the cold and have cider and doughnuts.

It felt more like we were in a scene in Grapes of Wrath, complete with ninety degree heat, dead crops, and dust.

We had fun, but I will be glad to be in New England soon, where I can have a real fall!

Fall should have been here by now.
New England always felt like fall at least a week or two before the autumnal equinox.   Here in the Rocky mountains, we’re still waiting.  This could go on, with 75 degree highs everyday, until a week before Halloween.  Then it will snow, and my children will freeze their little fingers and toes when they go trick-or-treating.
I hate being cheated out of fall.
I usually make these pumpkin cookies the first time there’s a nip in the air.  It seems like that will never happen.  But that doesn’t mean that all the rest of you aren’t in your own homes, curled up next to real fires (as opposed to my make-believe gas fireplace fire), drinking hot apple cider and roasting marshmallows.  So if you are one of those people who are already enjoying a cool autumn, this recipe is for you.  (But they’re still good, no matter how hot it is.)

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What you see in the picture is not what we ate.
When I was making the egg salad, the kids pulled the kitchen chairs up to the island to watch. Everything was in the bowl, ready to mix, when I went to get a spoon. As I turned my back, I heard a sound, like sand pouring out of a glass. Then my two-year-old started shouting, “I did it! I helped you!”
In the bowl was a mountain of salt.
I thought I got it all out, but as I stirred, I heard the crystals scraping along the bottom of the bowl.
A word of caution: be careful with the salt. You can always add more—you can’t always take it out.

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I’m a huge C. S. Lewis fan.  In his autobiography, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life, he takes great lengths to discuss his education.  He said his father bought every book he had ever read, so Lewis was at liberty to read anything lying about the house.  When Lewis’s boarding school experiences proved to be disastrous, his father sent him to live with his own former college professor William T. Kirkpatrick (the inspiration for Professor Kirk in the Chronicles of Narnia), who was his private tutor for years and taught Lewis to think logically.

Since reading it, my dream has been to get wealthy and hire a live in governess to teach my children privately.  She could go on trips to Europe with us and tutor my children in logic, literature, and languages (no alliteration intended).  A couple years ago, when I saw we weren’t getting rich, I thought I’d take a whack at homeschooling and volunteer myself as the governess.  My son was very cooperative, and enjoyed the one on one teaching, but after about six months we abandoned it for several reasons with which I won’t bore you.

Homeschooling was not a waste of time, by any means.  I had based the curriculum on Jessie Bauer and Susan Wise Bauer’s book, The Well-Trained Mind: A Guide to Classical Education at Home, which has become a homeschooling standard on classical education.  With it, Stuart learned much more history and literature than public schools would ever try to cover, and we even began Latin.  Since my dream of giving him the perfect education has halted until we have an extra $70,000 every year to pay the governess, he and I try as often as we can to supplement his learning with things the book suggests for people who can’t homeschool: world history, writing, literature, and logic.  That way, when I write my best-selling novel, or my husband becomes a real estate tycoon, the governess won’t have to start from scratch.

My five-year-old daughter has been playing paper dolls a lot lately.  The other day she told me, “I’m gonna have a show with all my paper dolls.  Yeah, but they’re all gonna be necked.  It won’t be a show for kids.”

A few years ago, I was watching the BYU channel, and saw a small lecture given by Chieko Okazaki.  She talked about raising families with love and respect.  Among her many ideas, the one that stood out was her simple set of rules she had in her home:  Be polite; be safe.  Just about every behavior falls into these two categories.  It was so brilliant, we have adopted these rules in our own home.
When a child misbehaves, the conversation often goes a bit like this, “What are the rules of our house?”
They mumble, “Being polite and safe.”
Then we ask, “Was it safe to hit your brother?”
“No.”
“Was it polite?”
“No.”
“What do you say?”
“Sorry.”
It’s very simple, and most of the time it helps us avoid further struggles and contention.

Humilimom—as in humiliated mom.  That was me at Target two weeks ago.  My five-year-old—five-year-old!— threw a fit there, right after I had said good-bye to my well-put-together friend Danielle.  I was hoping she would not be privy to my child’s outburst of emotion, but she walked by during phase one of the tantrum.  When we arrived at the checkout line, we were in phase 2—the loudest phase, and there was Danielle, four check out lines down, with her three lovely daughters.
By this time, everyone could hear my daughter screaming. She sounded like Veruca Salt’s evil twin. I was far too embarrassed to make eye contact with anyone in the store who might have the I-would-never-let-my-kid-act-like-that face,  so I did something I’m not a fan of: I covered her mouth. She could breathe just fine, but the second she did, she got a bloody nose. Yes, people probably thought I hit her.
It would be painful for me to continue to tell the story of such a low point in my time as a mother. So, I’ll just tell you the car ride home turned into a lecture to all three of my children on the evils of becoming spoiled brats.
I finally saw Danielle on Sunday. She was out of town for a few weeks—enough time for our display to become a cloudy memory, and enough time for the red in my cheeks to fade. I apologized, and we had a laugh. I suppose all families have their moments—even if they aren’t as humiliating as mine was.

Our kids were playing make believe one evening.  Our five-year-old said to our two-year-old, “Let’s play Narnia.  I’ll be a knight.”  She thought a moment and responded, “Okay, I’ll be a fork!”

This post will get lost in the archives eventually, but before I do this blog for too long, I want to say that I named it “sophistimom” more in hopes that it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy than a reflection of characteristics I believe I possess.  I would love to be some sort of domestic goddess, have my home just so, with children who excel in social situations and have a commanding knowledge of Latin and Shakespeare.  I would love to be one of those girls with a magnetic presence who always looks fabulous but is incredibly kind and genuine.  But alas, I spend more time wishing I had a maid than actually doing housework; my kids are more inclined to play Rock Band, memorizing the lyrics to Wave of Mutilation than they are memorizing sonnets; and, I would make the girl on What Not to Wear hyperventilate in her three inch heels if she ever saw my wardrobe.

But I’ll keep writing the positive things that I’m learning.  Rest assured you have no IDEA how much I edit my so-less-than-perfect life.

I have long maintained the feeling that I should raise my kids to be polite.  But since I started the blog, I have found a lot of media out there that says teaching your kids to say please and thank you is an unnecessary hoop to make them jump through just so that adults feel better.  What a load of rubbish!  We raise our children to be polite so that they can learn to look outward instead of constantly toward themselves — so they can put off their natural tendencies to be selfish for part of the day.  This is a blog, so I won’t bore you with any rantings and ravings — that would be impolite.  But, if you do believe in teaching your kids manners, Emily Post has a list of downloadable printouts for teaching them.  Right before a nice dinner, I like to sit down with the kids and review the one entitled “Top Table Manners for Kids.”  That way, during the meal, I don’t have to keep nagging –elbows off the table! stop chewing with your mouth open! Instead, I can simply raise my eyebrows at them, and they get the picture.

I decided it was time to stop ogling at the Rainier cherries and just buy them already, no matter what they cost.  I filled the bottom of the bowl with ice to keep the cherries cold while I photographed (also to make my measly pound of cherries stick up over the top of the bowl!).  My kids kept nagging me—when can we eat them?  When the pictures were done, we helped ourselves to the best cherries we’ve had in years, and made sure to eat them slowly.