Christmas Cookies

For the Christmas of 1962, my parents started a tradition. My mother bought several metal cookies cutters - a bell, a star, a Santa, a reindeer, a holly leaf and a snowman. She found a recipe for dough that she liked, and she started the tradition of having us four kids and my dad decorate the cookies that she would make sometime in the 2 weeks prior to Christmas. It was a big stretch for my mom, because its the only time that I can remember that she purposefully allowed us to make a mess at the table. When you have four children, three of whom are boys, you have your limits. But it was a great tradition and we looked forward to it every year. My mom would roll out the dough, bake the cookies, make the frosting and gather the sprinkles and colored sugar and let us have at it.

It was a comforting and happy tradition. We knew which colors of frosting she would make - white, brown, yellow, blue, red and green. The cookies shapes were always the same. My dad would always say "You can only eat the ones you break." as he snapped a cookie in two. You could tell who made which cookie based on the creativity level. My brother Rick would patiently decorate each cookie, taking up to 20 minutes for each one. I would just grab a bottle of colored sugar and toss it on. Mom did not decorate any of the cookies. She said that she made them and that meant that she didn't need to decorate them. As we decorated, Mom would put them in a container and we would eat them throughout the next week or so, making sure that there were some left on Christmas Eve for Santa.

As we grew up and started our own families, we still would set aside time for Cookie Day. Mom used the same cookie cutters. She was tempted by displays of newer looking shapes, but they were never as good as the metal ones that she bought in 1962. The grandkids all learned to decorate. They added their personalities to the experience. The year my nephew Josh was 3 or 4, he ate all of the cinnamon candies while we thought he was decorating. Those red hots became known as Josh's candy. The sprinkles were spilled more often as there were more grandchildren, but it still a comfortable tradition. After we finished, Mom would make stew and we would have dinner. As we all left, she would put some cookies on a plate for each of us to take home.

One year, about 15 years ago, my mom decided that, as the only daughter, I should take over the cookie making. My mom gave me the recipe and the cookie cutters. I felt a bit of a sense of awe and responsibility. I was not as good a baker as my mom, but I would try to do my best. The event shifted to my house. Working with the dough was hard at first. I would get frustrated and have to reroll the dough over and over again. Having my mom watch me do it was nerve-racking, too. I got better as time went by, learning some of the tricks of the trade. I never felt that I did it as good as Mom, but it was still fun and still comfortable. I toyed with using a different recipe that was easier to roll out. But the family didn't want the taste of the cookies to change. There were years that we struggled to find a day to do the cookies. Schedules and events sometimes got in the way. As the grandkids got older and busier, they didn't always participate. But Dad still would say "You can only eat the ones you break." as he snapped a cookie in half. And Rick would still take his time. One year, my son-in-law appeared to be unclear on the process and took the whole time making only one cookie. But it was quite a cookie!! Very fancy. And the personalities kept on coming.

In the summer of 2008, my mom died. That Christmas when it came time for Cookie Day, I felt myself dreading the day. The tradition was one of the few things that was truly passed from mother to daughter. I was missing my mom so much that Christmas that I just couldn't think of going through with it without her standing there watching me. As I started rolling out the dough, my mom absence was too great and I started crying. I couldn't keep going. My daughter Stephanie was home, having just finished college, and she lovingly took over. Everyone came to decorate, but I couldn't even do that. This was an important tradition in my family, and I wanted it to continue, but it was one of the hardest things about saying good-bye to my mother.

I thought about the cookie tradition all year long. I wanted to honor my mother. But it was going to be hard for awhile. At Thanksgiving, I got a message from my 15-year-old niece Kaity asking when we were doing the cookies. My heart skipped. Emotions of missing my mom and feeling overwhelmed filled me. With my husband standing beside me, I worked out a day with Kaity. I saw how much she needed to do this and then was glad that she pushed me. I told her thank you for being patient with me and working with me.

Kaity's connection to her grandmother, my mom, is important and strong. To her, doing the cookies was a way of keeping Mom's memory alive. I wanted to avoid the whole thing so that the grief wouldn't come back. But Kaity reminded me that the grief moves away when the memory is honored. This year I decided that the cookie tradition would be shifted a little. It will now be a tradition that will be carried out by both Kaity and me. I will teach her how to do it and eventually she will take it over. She has promised to keep it alive and to make sure that as many of the family is included, no matter where she ends up living.

This year I made the dough, but Kaity rolled out the cookies. I used the same recipe as always. We used the same cookie cutters, now more than 40 years old. We did add the color purple to the frosting options at Kaity's insistance. Still the tradition, but the personality changes a little. I have a granddaughter who will one day add a little of her personality to the experience. Its still comfortable and I feel that my mom would be pleased.