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7:21 on a Wednesday

We were packing up to go to Anacortes for Thanksgiving and I had a bag of fabric set out next to the door for my mom. It took Maggie about two shakes before she decided to investigate what was inside the bag. Apparently she thought that the fabric would make a good mini-bed and immediately set up shop and started reading away. She read to herself for about 15 minutes in that little cocoon, getting another book after book, before she decided that it was time to get ready to go. As a teacher and a mother, seeing her choose to spend her time with books makes me want to do The Happy Dance. I think we’ve got a book lover on our hands and I couldn’t be happier!!

Speaking of The Happy Dance, I’m totally slowing down and doing the trusty dance ‘o happy just isn’t as cool with a big pregnant belly. The above photo is from Jeff and Courtney’s wedding way back in September. That was me livin’ it up in the energy-filled 2nd trimester. If I could, I’d go back in time and have my own marriage ceremony to that 2nd trimester. Dorky? Without a doubt, but you should see me walking my students around school – I am just like Mrs. Mallard in Make Way For Ducklings. I’m not complaining (well, I guess I am a bit) but this 3rd trimester business of not sleeping and getting out of bed like an OLD person is wonky.

I kid you not that the other day I got out of bed and Barry asked me, in an extremely concerned voice, if I was going to be okay. It took me a moment to realize that he doesn’t usually see me launch myself up first thing in the morning and it is truly a sight to see. My hips creak, my back cracks and I’ve got pillows wedged between every arm and leg crevice. Thankfully I’ve got a chiropractor appointment and a massage in my future; however, I’m not sure that will help me with the rolly-polly technique I’ve mastered for getting up. 

 And because this post is really about a whole lot of nothing, I’ll attach an outtake from our photo shoot of this year’s Christmas card. I think Maggie was wearing her Bossy Pants the day we shot the images because she had a pretty clear idea of how things should go down. Her ideas weren’t horrible, but she kept wanting to look at my camera to see her pictures. There might have been marshmallows involved in a bit of a bribe. I’m not proud about it, but occasionally a marshmallow bribe is very, very necessary. 

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Grandma’s Cookies

Last night I pulled a bag from our pile of holiday gear that my aunt Sue had given me last year. I wasn’t quite sure what was in it and since we’re starting to decorate, I figured this was the best time to go through it. What I didn’t expect to find was a little treasure from the past that left me feeling full of gratitude for my family. 

Included in the bag was a little black book that my Grandma Lowman had started writing in to document her experience as she started the tradition of baking gingerbread houses for her grandchildren to decorate. This is a tradition that I grew to love as a kid, always the day after Thanksgiving and always a day of candy. I’d share the decorating of a gingerbread house with my brothers and we’d have it on display until New Years Eve, when we’d blow it up with fireworks. 

Other notes were sprinkled in this little black book, along with writing from my aunt about what frostings work and how the basement is a little too damp to work. Lots of information about different baking times for gingerbread parts and the extension of the bases the house would stand on. From what I remember of decorating the gingerbread houses, it always was such a fun time to be with my cousins. I had no idea what really went into it all. 

It wasn’t the notes about the gingerbread baking that floored me. Tucked within this book was a typed list from my grandma of all the cookies she baked from each December from 1978 to 1980. Included on the paper, as you can see, is a list of people who helped and how many dozen cookies were baked. (Hey look! There I am, in December of 1979 as a little question mark!!!) Barry couldn’t believe it when I told him the numbers of cookies made, but I know these numbers are no stretch…we must have had cookies for months after all the baking.

My very favorite part of the whole typed note – and the one that made me start to cry – is the little descriptions from her notes on December 12, 1980. She mentions everybody that was there and the phrase ‘I am high on grandchildren tonight’ is EXACTLY what my grandma still says to this day when something makes her happy, proud, excited and grateful. So to see it typed out, and knowing that most of us – her family – were the ones making her happy, makes me bubble over with gratitude.

Also, to add another twist to it is this: this little treasure was passed to me by Sue, my dad’s sister….and this note was written by my mom’s mother. That’s how my family works. Eventually my aunt Sue took over the baking of the gingerbread houses and she inherited the little black book. She saved it all these years and passed it back to me, not knowing how much I’d love it. 

And one final piece? There is a handwritten piece from my grandma about having Phil, Nate, Ben & me to visit overnight. They took us to the mall and my grandpa gave us each $5 to spend. We each picked out a toy and brought it back to their house before getting ready for bed.  Such random things to document, but I love the idea of us Lowman ‘keeds’ all spending the night with our beloved grandparents and them cherishing the time we’re there. 

I don’t consider myself a sappy person, but finding these notes and reading about those December days all those decades ago, makes me wish I could remember being a part of the family that baked 73 dozen cookies. I suppose I’m still a part of that family…just not watching from the high chair anymore. 

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Our Weekend in a Nutshell

 I should be writing about our Thanksgiving and the time that we spent in Anacortes with my family, but that seems like eons ago. We came home Friday and promptly started the Three Day Potty Training Boot Camp Never Leave Your Child’s Side Program. Both Barry and I may or may not be feeling a bit of cabin fever and Maggie may or may not be closer to being potty trained. Having Barry be here for this has been the best decision we’ve ever made because doing this alone and 8 months pregnant might have sent me to the loony bin. Okay, if I’m being honest, which I am it would have sent me to the loony bin.  We’ve both been able to take breaks and also spend time together at home which we don’t do as often as we should on the weekends. 

Maggie hasn’t had any major accidents and I’ve been really proud of her. We missed the boat this summer when she was using the potty 100% when nude…I think I got pregnant and started working and pretty much thought she’d catch on all by herself (or at least that was my make-belive hope!).  There isn’t much else going on in my brain, or in this house, except for “Maggie, please remember to tell Mama or Papa if you need to go potty” and “Hurry! Let’s go!!” phrases from both Barry and my mouths. 

This afternoon we bundled up, Maggie still in her undies, boots and vest, and went and organized the garage. We’ve been meaning to do that practically since we moved in and since we’ve been home for a few days it kind of felt like we went somewhere all together. I also pulled the clothes bin for B2 and Maggie helped me organize it. Every shirt, pajama or hat she picked up she’d say “This for me? No, it not fit me….Awwwwwww, look how little is is, Mama!” So funny. 

And here is the end of the most boring blog post in the universe. 

I’m not promising more exciting content in the future, but perhaps a bit more depth.