Our Thanksgiving!

We had the sweetest Thanksgiving this year in our new home. I am so unbelievably grateful that I had the opportunity to host my side of the family. My sister and her hubby and kids came and stayed with us, which was the BEST, and I got to soak in all the family moments I had been craving for such a long time.

I got to introduce my nephew to the golf cart, which he begged to ride over and over. I get it. Everett's first words in the morning are, "waffles?" and "g-ride!" (which is what we call the golf cart, ha.) So we drove the g-ride all over this town, and thankfully, we had wonderfully strange warm weather to enjoy so much time outdoors.

The meal went off without a hitch (mostly), and it was a fun twist to set a formal table for the meal. I don't think my family has ever sat down to a formal meal together. We just aren't formal people. But it was so fanciful and fun, it made me wonder why we have waited this long to do it. I had to look up on Martha Stewart's website how to actually set a formal table, and I was definitely missing a few necessary items (who has 10 mini butter knives??) but it didn't matter even the tiniest bit.

There was one moment when we were all sitting around the table, having dessert, that I found my mom staring into her coffee cup. "I never got to drink out of these as a little girl," she said, so softly, I almost missed it. She was pensive, but elated. She shared the memories of her parents and their parties, using my grandmother's china, and the years of hand washing each dish when the party ended. But she never got to enjoy the fancy dishes herself. So she was pretty excited to be sipping her coffee and eating her pie, kind of like having her cake and eating it too :) Oh, my sweet mom.

My new brother-in-law Chuck joined us for all the Spencer shenanigans.

Because who doesn't want to dive into a basket of toys while staring at the glittery Christmas tree? Smart little lady.

Macaroni and cheese was the only Thanksgiving food this kid would consider. Which is on his face. Am I failing as a parent??

The beautiful people.

My mother is nuts.

Sooooooo newlywed, Am I right?

JUST COME BAAAACK.

They are the best grandparents. I'm so happy for these kids to have them.

My sleepy little heart and soul.

We didn't do anything out of the ordinary for Thanksgiving. We ate, took a walk (this year we also took a g-ride :), then had some dessert. Then we just hung out. It was so simple. It was an awful lot of work, but the kind that is so satisfying and filled my heart all the way up.

When everyone left the house the next day, things were so still and quiet. I found myself really sad, so I curled up on the couch and watched Everett play in the living room while the TV was on. But you know what? That boy came over to me, reached up so I would put him in my lap, and he just rested there with me. Thumb in his mouth, he just sat in my lap without wiggling, squalling or doing the hundred other boy-ish things he normally does when I take him captive and make him sit with me. On this day, he just rested in my lap, leaning his head against my chest, and I could finally breath really deep. It was the most calming moment with my little boy. And these are the ones, the little nuggets of time that life is all about. It's not about the monumental Thanksgiving and all it's glory, it's about the string of bitty moments that wrap the tree in the whitest of light. No one can take those lights away from my memory, and no one can replace the glow in my heart from this holiday. And even though I'm sad Thanksgiving is over and my family is dispersed across the southeast once again, I am the luckiest girl because I have this boy (okay, boys - Stevie counts!) who reminds me what this life is all about. Thanks boys. You're the best ones to me :)

I hope your Thanksgiving was the sweetest, friends.

P.S. - Stay tuned for my holiday gift guides, launching this week! xox

My Grandmother's China.

I wish I could recount to you the lyrical quality of her head-thrown-back, guttural, deep-belly laughter.

The rhythm of her walk.

The sweet scent of her choice perfume mingled with her shampoo.

The expression in her eyes as she told a wild story.

Her favorite dish to cook for the family, her favorite flower in my garden, her favorite song on the radio.

I wish I could tell you I knew her. But I didn't.

My grandmother died before her time was up, in June of 1976. She left a family of 5 children, one of which was my mother, and a loving community, in the wake of her untimely end. I have often wondered how my mom ever got by without her own mother for some of the most formidable times in her life, since my mom was barely 19 year old when she lost the companionship of her mom. How in the world did she get married, have me and my sisters, buy a house, move states, and you know, do all the grown up stuff, without the ability to call home to her mom? I am so often grasping at the threads of advice and perspective from my mother, so often pulling on the wisdom I know she can offer, the encouragement, the challenge, the discipline, the unconditional love - how on earth did my mom make it so far without her own support system? How how how. I honestly don't understand it.

My mom is simply amazing. That's the only reasoning I can discern.

I wish I knew how much my mom was like her mom. And I wish I knew how much I am like she was, too. Do I have her eyes? Her smile? Her humor? Do I walk like her or talk like her or tell stories just like her? Do I have the same penchant for cooking or the same weakness of a sharp tongue? It's lost in a book of should-have-been-published. I should have known her. I really wish I had been given that chance.

This year I was given a great many gifts. The same week that I was given a houseful of free furniture for my new home I was given another gift; one of the most sentimental, legacy-laden and meaningful heirlooms of my life.

I was given my grandmother's set of china.

Thanks to the unforgettable kindness and generosity of my dear Aunt Janet, my mom's youngest sister, I was offered by her my grandmother's incomplete set of porcelain china, with its signature peach and gold tulip pattern. Why? I'll never really know. My kind aunt, who is without any daughters of her own, thought that I would love and appreciate the gift in the midst of her move and downsizing, simply because of my adoration for our family's history. And probably because I cook like a crazy person. I'll never really know why she was moved to offer me the gift that rocked my world, but she did. And I awkwardly accepted, unsure of what exactly to do with such a precious gift. I was given a gorgeous china cabinet in the same week. How about that.

The only explanation I can muster for all of this mystery is that God must love me, a lot, to bestow such a delicately powerful, surprising gift. What am I supposed to do with this 50-year old china? How do I even process how special this gift is? Well, I should protect it. Display it. Put it in my china cabinet, obviously.

I've been thinking a lot about this set of dishes. About the many Christmases when it was used, when my mom remembers monotonously hand-washing each and every dish. I've been thinking about how it was used for fancy family dinners, friend coffee dates, numerous holidays and endless parties. So much celebration, conversation, and connection occurred just above those coffee cups. So many favored, steamy delicacies were served on that platter. So many meals for so many mouths. I think my grandma would be happy to know that we walk by her china everyday, as we settle my son into his high chair and watch him throw food around the dining room. I think she would like to know that we honor her memory and her matriarchal presence in our family.

But you know what I think she would like more?

For us to use it.

So this Thanksgiving, the first Thanksgiving that I have ever hosted, we are pulling that china out of its cabinet and we are going to use it. We are going to celebrate my grandmother. A woman who I've been told, loved to throw her head back and laugh. A woman who loved babies. A woman who was a neat freak, a politeness-enforcer, a perfectly poised hostess. A woman who I have to thank for my wavy hair and possibly, my chipmunk cheeks. And above all else, a woman who I have to thank for my own mother - the one from whom I received the solidest ground, my life's blood, my sensitive heart and definitely my chipmunk cheeks. No questions about any of those.

Thank you, my dear Aunt Janet, for your selfless, treasured gift to my family. This Thanksgiving is dedicated to you, and of course, to my Grandma. xox.