This is a post about gingerbread houses. And Mom. And Jack. And how Mom got her groove back through gingerbread. Just go with it.
So back in 2006, I had just moved into my own place on Golf Road. Lovely shitty apartment of my own. $545 a month. Just me and Jack. And mom visited a lot. I worked at the police department as a dispatcher and was less than a year away from starting my career (though 5 years from graduating — not the point). It was Christmas! My first Christmas in my OWN place. This called for something special. This called for … a gingerbread house!
So mom came to visit and help me make my very own gingerbread house. There were issues. We couldn’t find any gingerbread mix. So it was really a sugar cookie house. It counts, OK? It had windows! Mom showed me how to crush up jolly ranchers and melt them to make stained glass windows! We had a peppermint roof and a full length chocolate chip chimney. I cut up gum drops and made a wreath. It was glorious. This was before cheap battery-powered lights, but if we had had those, it would have glowed gloriously through my translucent blue and purple sugar windows.
Then the next few years we’d always do something special for Christmas. Usually treats. Like chocolate dipped Oreos, or chocolate covered Ritz Crackers with peanut butter, or those fancy treats where you melt a Rolo on top of a pretzel and smush it with a peanut M&M — or if you’re going somewhere fancy — a half a pecan. Sometimes we even did gingerbread cookies and decorated them with icing.
Then, in 2009, I was feeling adventurous. I was in a much nicer apartment with a guest room and dating a cute guy who would become my husband. It was time for another gingerbread house. We had to outdo our previous effort. This had to be magnificent. We would do something with more grandeur. We would make a church.
How does one make a gingerbread church? Well, you just make the front and back taller so the roof is steeper and put a steeple on top. We’re not on the Food Network here, aint nobody got time to make templates and stuff. But don’t you worry, we got this. It would have even more jolly rancher windows! More icing! The M&Ms would be Christmas colors to look like Christmas lights! And best of all: Shingles. We would use Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal and put individual shingles on that shit. Boo-yeah!
Now, I would like to say, we kept improving on our gingerbread game. We got so good we could do competitions! But we didn’t. The church was actually the pinnacle of my gingerbread greatness. Sad, I know. But that’s not where the story ends. Those were merely flights-of-fancy in the gingerbread game of my own. Mom would take gingerbread houses and flip the script.
So take a step back. I moved away from my text-book codependent family in 2003 and got a shit ton of therapy. In my evolution of self, I turned from my father. Fuck that asshole. No, not God, my real father. THAT asshole. Sometimes the pendulum has to swing really far to right itself. Now my beloved mother had been beaten down by that motherfucker for decades. And you can be damn straight I turned my pot-stirring self to getting her to realize it. And she was really coming around by the time she kicked the bucket. I think she might have had the gumption to skip Christmas by the time she died. I’m sad I never got to see that and sneak her a wink and a high five. OK, back to the early 2000s:
So dad always controlled every holiday. Though they divorced when I was two, dad always controlled everything. Holidays were at his house. We’d go over the weekend before and scrub it clean cause he’s kinda a hoarder. Mom would make every single dish and we’d go over to dads and pretend to be happy. Even after he got a girlfriend — who thankfully took over the cleaning part. Mom would still cook for a week and haul it all over to that bastards house so he could have his happy family holiday (yes, with his girlfriend and my step brother — the kid he had while he was still married to my mother). Every Thanksgiving and every Christmas — even Easter.
At some point, she started making extra to “hide.” Is it hiding if you make it yourself, in your own house, and just don’t take it over? Not really, but in my codependent family it was rebellion. I think this started when the girlfriend would start making to-go meals for her friends and for my step brother (the affair child). We stopped having leftovers left. Mom stopped having food to eat off of for the next week after she’d spent all week cooking for everyone. No more turkey casserole! You know, where you shred the turkey and mix it with the dressing and cream-of-chicken soup? None. So mom started making extra dressings and extra mac & cheese and keeping it at her house. Come 2014 something had changed.
Now I’m not sure what triggered the change. And I wouldn’t dare say “something snapped” — nay, something clicked into place is what happened. Maybe that was after dad started putting rules on presents — how much we could spend, and then one year declaring we weren’t allowed to give gifts at all (yeah no, fuck him — yall know I didn’t listen to his shit). But 2014 was a new era. In 2014, mom decided to have her own Christmas.
Now don’t get me wrong, it was still a secret. It didn’t replace dads Christmas. Mom would just have her own Christmas on a different weekend with only her own children and we’d ACTUALLY be happy for real. There were kinks. Bitch sister banned pictures so there are no photographic memories to look back on with my blessed mother. Because god-forbid dad find out and get his wittle-feewings-huwt. So I’m a bit bitter that moms gone and I can’t go back and look at those non-existent-photos, but it happened. And I have the gingerbread houses to prove it. Recently, I took an internet deep dive to find them.
2014 was a learning year. What would we do for moms Christmas? She’d make a big meal but what should we do? Gingerbread houses! But we’re not going to be all difficult about it. This was before gingerbread house kits were a thing, mind you. Mom decided we’d make cardboard houses and decorate them! And we’d use hot glue and caulk because ain’t nobody eating these anyway. So we made cardboard houses in advance. And even one Pringles can which became a rocket of sorts. Then, when the night came, we exchanged presents and ate food and laughed and made merry in my sisters tiny house where mom lived. And after dinner, we gingerbreaded! We had tons of cheap candies and graham crackers, pretzels and cereals, all sorts of shit to glue to your box house!
I chose the biggest box house because I’m ambitious. I did not anticipate the sheer amount of time it would take to cover such a large house with graham crackers, cookies, and smarties. Much less how much time it would take me to caulk to entire roof and lay it with pretzels. It was all I could do to get a Twizzler door and butterscotch windows before the night was over. But it was a wonderful Christmas party! And mom was beaming.
I returned home with my house and eventually, I had to spiff that shit up. I had run out of time! So one night while my husband was playing D&D at the table with friends, I sat in the living room with hot glue gun and made that shit SPIFFY. Look at this. M&M Christmas lights! Lined windows! My signature gumdrop wreath — and Christmas tree Peeps. Fuck Yeah. Much better.
Oh now we had a tradition. And the next year, we found gingerbread house kits! 2015 brought a cookie roof and a ice-cream-cone tree (pretty sure mom made me that). We even started saving all the leftover candies because, again, nobody is eating this stuff. And we got better. Caulk is great for cookies and cereal, but don’t use it on the sugar candy — it melts it. Like, it never dries and the candy melts off it. Some kind of chemical reaction. I don’t know. Eventually we gave up on caulk anyway.
In 2016, I bought a whole stash of PREBUILT gingerbread houses. All we had to do was decorate. I went with a Chex roof.
By 2017, gingerbread house kits were becoming a thing. Not only were they easy to find, they started making weird shit. Mom bought me this sweet Mario castle kit! For some reason it didn’t come with a roof or second-story walls. But I’m an engineer so I hot-glued some wooden-skewer beams for supports and filled in with graham crackers. Fuck yeah. Add some Peep trees. Magnificent.
I should also point out that it started to become clear that this tradition was spreading in the family. And by family, I mean Jack. It became very clear that he was sneaking on the counter at night to eat the icing and marshmallows. I let him have at it. It was Christmas, after all. It was pretty evident on that red mushroom though.
In 2018, I brought back my cereal shingle technique. Notice the Mario-Coins saved from the previous year.
In 2019 mom really went all out. Sister had moved into a bigger house so we could set up in the downstairs game room. Multiple tables were set up and everyone was gifted an adorable little spruce tree in a gingerbread box. I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember this year much. I had some pretty bad brain trauma and I probably barely made it there. That might also explain why the hell there is so damn much icing on the roof. Not my best showing.
2020 was one hell of a year. The party almost didn’t happen because — well, Covid. My husband wasn’t about to leave our house and he really didn’t want anyone here. But I begged and God was on my side. Everyone promised to quarantine and come up here for the party so I wouldn’t have to travel (I was still recovering). God really made that year special for us. Everyone came up. And everyone spent the night! It was so much fun. We had a full house. And mom had got us all matching PJs! We took one of the family’s most cherished photos that night. A family photo with us in our matching PJs and mom up front. Who knew it would be the last family photo we ever took? We didn’t even hardly have any family photos — maybe just my wedding photos, actually. I’m still so sad my sweet husband took the photo because that means he’s not in it. If only I had thought to ask CB to take one with him in it…
Well, we didn’t actually do houses that year. We decorated cookies to make things easier. J had bought an ugly sweater cookie kit and me and mom baked hand-cut gingerbread cookies before everyone got up here. I think it was December 19th? Just a week before she died on Christmas day. Fucking Covid.
The next year, 2021, not everyone was in much of a celebrating mood. But my sister-in-law and brother agreed to host. I found these spiffy fondant penguins at Target. My sisters didn’t come. But we kept the tradition alive. Hey, I even did a damn fine showing with a frosted miniwheats roof. And that was the last Christmas with my precious Jack. And damned if he didn’t go after that house in those dark mid-night hours. He nearly ate a whole damned Peep tree! And look how his tongue sanded down the wreath candies and the fondant door. And is that a Super-Mario star I spy from years before atop the tree?
This year, 2022 was a little better. My sisters still weren’t feeling the joy so I said I would host. And I bought us all fun kits from Publix! I honestly didn’t expect my sisters to come, but last minute they did! Not only did they come, but they stopped at the store and picked up their own gingerbread kits to make! Since I didn’t expect my sisters and I’ve been insanely depressed about Jack, I invited K2 to join us. She made her first gingerbread house in the form of a Publix. I made a moose lodge with a pretzel roof. Apparently, my husband doubted my pretzel roof. SHAME on you, husband! My pretzel roof is fantastic — I mean, there’s a lot of glue strands but whatever.
It’s not very traditional Christmas-look, but it’s there. I wasn’t feeling it as much this year without Jack. Last year we didn’t have mom, but it was still a tradition for me to make a house for Jack to eat in “secret.” This year was harder for me without mom and without Jack. But we kept the tradition alive. We KEEP the tradition alive. Long live mom and her rebellious Chirstmas parties!