Gingerbread Memories

Today I was cutting dough into shapes with cookie cutters to make salt dough ornaments. It's amazing what kind of sensory-filled moments will fill me with beautiful memories of my mom. This time, the memories were of our annual tradition of making my paternal grandmother's recipe of gingerbread cookies. If you've never tried one of our home-baked, frosted gingerbread men, then you've never had a piece of gingerbread heaven. From a very young age, my mom would have me at the counter with her cutting Christmas shapes in the molasses-laced dough and out would come the frosting, which was made from scratch (also my grandma Mary's recipe). Every Christmas shape imaginable would pop out of the oven. All afternoon, we'd slather frosting, sprinkle crystalized sugar, and trim gingerbread trees with decorating gels. Most years, our friends Michelle and Jessica would help until they moved out-of-state. Since this was all before the age of digital photos and social media-sharing, I have nary a photo of this tradition. The last time I remember doing this activity with my mom was when one of my best friends from middle school, Mollie, joined us in the gingerbread fun. We were at that age where everything is hilarious and, luckily, my mom took our burgeoning teenagehood in stride. Pretty soon, my mom and I were in fits of laughter over Mollie's creation of "the dot family." (There's more to this story, but it's definitely only hilarious in context: 1994, in my parents' dining room, some flannel and Weezer's "Buddy Holly" playing in the background.) This post (and probably many others to come) is scant on specific mom memories, but as I try to whip up holiday activities to do with her beautiful granddaughter, I can't help but feel thankful for all the wonderful traditions my mom kept going as I grew up.