By New Year's 2029. The kids are asleep by 7 PM. Megan and I are asleep by 10 PM. We wake up at midnight because the neighbor's fireworks are loud enough to violate city ordinances and also our sleep schedule. We lie in bed and listen to the fireworks and I say, "Happy New Year," and she says, "Happy New Year," and we fall back asleep because parenthood has made midnight a theoretical concept rather than a practical one.
2029. Tommy is three. Ellie is ten months. I'm thirty-two. Megan starts her master's in the fall. The Helen's notebook has fifty pages. The savings account grows every month. The brewery is thriving. The house is almost fully renovated — the basement is waterproofed (finally), the porch is solid, the kitchen is done, the bedrooms are painted. Only the bathroom needs attention (it always needs attention; bathrooms are the needy children of home renovation).
I'm starting to think about timeline. Not for Helen's — Helen's is still "someday." But the "someday" has a shape now. It's not abstract. It's a number: five years. In five years, Tommy will be eight, Ellie will be five, Megan will have her master's, and the savings account will be large enough to cover the first year of a small pierogi shop on Kinnickinnic Avenue. Five years. The horizon is visible.
Made Babcia's bigos for New Year's Day. The annual tradition. The stew that opens every year. Tommy ate it. Ellie tried a small piece of sausage and made a face that suggested she was either delighted or disgusted and I couldn't tell. Babies are opaque critics. She ate more. I'll take it.
The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.
The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.
Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.
Megan and Jake married in June 2024. The small newlywed-rhythm is in its small second year. The small two-bedroom rental on the small east-side of Milwaukee continues to be the small first-home. The small thirty-year-mortgage-eventually-someday is the small five-year-goal. The small marriage is the small foundation the small life is being built on.
The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.
The small Polish-American heritage is the small kitchen-identity. The small pierogi-recipe-cards from Babcia Helen (Jake’s grandmother who passed in 2018, who had lived two blocks from the small Bay-View family-house) is the small monthly-Saturday-tradition. The small kielbasa-and-sauerkraut. The small bigos. The small recipes that came over from the small Krakow-region in the small 1910s.
Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.
The small Milwaukee-winter is the small six-month-condition. The small cold-weather-comfort-food rotation runs October through April. The small soups, the small stews, the small braises, the small heavy-baked-goods. The small Midwestern-comfort-vocabulary is the small kitchen-language.
The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.
Babcia’s bigos opened the year the way it always does — slow and honest, the smell of sauerkraut and kielbasa filling the kitchen while the rest of the house was still half-asleep. But with Tommy at three and Ellie just starting to show opinions about food, I wanted something bright and goofy to follow it up, something he could “help” make by standing on his step stool and mostly just eating the Red Hots. These Christmas Wreath Cookies are no-bake, ready in twenty minutes, and look festive enough to feel like a celebration — which is exactly what a quiet, early-to-bed New Year’s still deserves to be.
Christmas Wreath Cookies
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 25 min (plus setting) | Servings: 24 cookies
Ingredients
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 30 large marshmallows (or 3 cups mini marshmallows)
- 1/2 teaspoon green food coloring
- 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 3 1/2 cups corn flakes cereal
- Red cinnamon candies (such as Red Hots), for decoration
Instructions
- Prep your workspace. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and lightly grease your hands or a silicone spatula with cooking spray to prevent sticking.
- Melt the base. In a large saucepan over low heat, melt the butter. Add the marshmallows and stir constantly until completely melted and smooth, about 3—4 minutes. Remove from heat immediately.
- Color and flavor. Stir in the green food coloring and vanilla extract until the mixture is evenly colored.
- Fold in the cereal. Working quickly, add the corn flakes and fold gently with a spatula until every piece is coated. Do not overmix or the cereal will crush.
- Shape the wreaths. Drop heaping tablespoon-sized mounds onto the prepared baking sheets. Using greased fingers, shape each mound into a small ring, pressing a hole through the center. Work fast — the mixture sets quickly.
- Decorate. While the wreaths are still tacky, press 3—5 red cinnamon candies onto each one to look like holly berries.
- Set and serve. Allow the wreaths to cool and firm at room temperature for at least 15 minutes before serving. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 75 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 15g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 55mg