Blog Posts by Nicole Andrews Moore

undefinedI know how the holidays go for adults...on account of...I am one. And it seems like when you are a kid, the days until the holidays simply crawl. And for adults, the days until the holidays fly by. There is simply never enough time to accomplish all of our commitments.

There are always school concerts to attend. There are all the the extra demands on our time, like the baking, the extra cleaning for company, the endless activities. And while the time is meant to be fun, it's supposed enjoyable, it's designed as an opportunity to make memories. It's also a time that we tend to get so wrapped up meeting our obligations, doing and over-doing, that we miss it. We miss all of it. We miss those moments that matter.

If I could but give one gift to my mother, it would be time. She was notorious for bending herself into a pretzel over the holidays. I'm convinced that she missed most of them. She was in the kitchen baking and cooking. She was running around like a machine cleaning. She rarely

I guess it was the fact that we were having our first Thanksgiving in the new house. I really wanted everything to be perfect. I had cleaned like a woman possessed. I had shopped and prepped and prepared. It wasn't as though I was working with new untried recipes. These were the family favorites, sides I had made nearly a dozen times. Still, when I place that much pressure on myself, it's sure to go all wrong.

Have any idea what I'm talking about?

See, I'm the kind of holiday chef that likes to make everything from scratch. I insist. I make applesauce from bags of peeled and cored MacIntosh. I make stuffing from bread I have cut and dried, vegetables I have diced and sauteed. I make every side imaginable...from scratch.

While there was no smoke alarm, no fire, no true destruction, by the time the meal was ready, I could have sworn the only things missing to make it the true disaster...were locusts. That's all I needed. Locusts.

And I thought about it. I wondered where it all went

Halloween CandyDo we go with sugar, or do we attempt to go sugar-free?

For some parents this is the cause of much distress. And there are valid reasons for that. Some kids get incredibly hyper and uncontrollable if given sugar. Some kids suffer from obesity. Other kids, it doesn't really impact at all.

That, thankfully, is where my kids fell. When they were younger, we controlled the amount of sugar, tried to train them to enjoy all the best foods in moderation. That type of training serves not only with sweets, but with all aspects of life. Self discipline is key.

So when we would go Trick-or-Treating, walking from neighborhood to neighborhood until they were exhausted and could hardly lift their bags, we had a nice routine when we returned home. Some of our routines were part of safety precautions that were ingrained with me when I was growing up...checking the candy to make sure none of it had been tampered with, throwing our baked goods that didn't come from someone we knew and trusted, and

Bo and RachelIt was a summer of change. One of the biggest changes was how our family would grow. We took in a young man who didn't have a place to go and needed some of our special TLC. We took in a dog who also needed a home. The inn is full, but that's how we like it. We have a lot of love and laughter to share.

Sailing in Charleston...We all have dreams. And for as long as I can remember, my dream has been to live on the water. As I aged, I learned to think outside of the box. That would be why we bought a sailboat in Charleston.

Never one to conform to the norm, our family now gets to enjoy weekends away from it all on the water. We pack up the vehicle and in less than three hours, we're at the marina. We have mastered loading and unloading with a precision usually only found in military operations, and have taken relaxing to a new level.

The sailboat is the best option for us, completely fulfilling our needs. It's camping on water. We have access to wi-fi and showers. We have a potty, but we also have an agreement to use the marina since no one wants to clean it. There are porpoises in the marina, just swimming around. There are turtles and crabs and all manner of fish. There are blue heron and pelicans. There are incredible sunrises and romantic sunsets. There are nights of starry skies and gentle breezes.

At least she's relaxed...Yes, just getting from point A to point B has been...challenging, scary, heart-stopping. All this because I am now spending more time in the passenger seat while my teenage daughter takes the wheel. This all too common rite of passage has created new challenges.

For example, while I try to project a calm and relaxed facade, in reality I have developed nervous habits. I bite my lips. My nails have never been so short. Every once in a while, there is a twitch in my eye lid. All signs that despite the fact that I try to enjoy the experience...I'm not so much.

There's a lot to get used to. The road looks different from that side of the vehicle. Of course, it could also look different because I have to remind Rachel that we're not British and the dotted line should remain to the left of us while the solid white should be to our right. That, of course, is only part of the problem.

It's rendering control to her, control of a vehicle, and ultimately control of her life. She's entering her

It's been one crazy school year for the kids. And I once again marvel at the ability of my babies to survive and thrive. They seem to meet change head-on. It makes me proud.

This was a huge year for my daughter especially. It's her junior year. She's working on checking out colleges and balancing out work, volunteering, after school activites and her education.

I know I did it. I know we all did it. Still, it just feels like she shouldn't be big enough for that yet, even if she does tower over me. (Man, does she tower over me.)

Then there's my son. He's in 7th grade. The baby of the family is thisclose to high school himself. He shocked us all by being not only in the chorus, but by being selected for All County Chorus. It was an honor for him that he never thought to share with us. We had to hear it at the concert. Thanks for that, kid.

The biggest changes weren't in the grades, or the aging, or the growth. The biggest change came when Rachel announced that she wanted to switch

Dear Gramma,

This letter is much different from the last letter that I wrote to you more than twenty years ago. That letter was written shortly after your death and shared at your memorial service. It was incredibly difficult for me to read it and even more difficult for me to imagine my life without you in it.

You inspired me more than you will ever know.

Because of you, I strove to hand-make everything I could for my children. I never quite mastered crocheting and knitting like you did, but instead I became a quilter and sewer. I made and designed the quilts for my own kids.

Your meals were legendary. And I have worked to match your culinary skills. Unfortunately these skills do not extend to the homemade egg noodles you always made for the post-Thanksgiving turkey soup. Instead, I do my best and cook with love.

I'm sorry that my own children never had an opportunity to enjoy spending the night with you and Poppy, watching television and eating ice cream sundaes. Know that I