Our youngest worker bee (don’t tell OSHA) turns 2 today.  I’m in the hospital, of course, receiving my weekly IVIG treatment, but we threw Maggie Rose a little birthday party on Sunday, and today she’s partying with Nan and Chuck all day and all night.  If Maggie could speak in complete sentences, I think she’d tell y’all that it’s good to be two.


Precious shirt courtesy of my cousin’s embroidery shop, Buggy Boo’s.

Or she would, if she could get her nose out of the honey lemonade I made for the party.  It was a hit with toddlers and adults alike, and I’ll post the recipe soon.  More than one adult was caught mixing it with the cheap champagne bar we set up as part of the celebration.  Because, y’all know, that’s how we roll near Babb: whether it’s a wedding reception or a 2 year old’s birthday party, any reason to eat prime rib and set up the bar is generally good enough for us!

Maggie’s Chuck built her a water table for her hose and all of her toys, and the weather warmed enough that she and her toddler companions were able to play with it.  Several hours later, the sun disappeared and Pseudo Sista decided that shivering Maggie Rose needed a hot shower and some warm clothes, but that didn’t keep Maggie from staying friendly with the mud puddles.  I think it was the best day of her life.




Maggie Rose, on the off chance you go back and read this online diary I’ve kept about our family, I want you to know that one cliche about parenthood is true: although you’re “only” two years old today, it is already hard for me to remember my life before you — and I had a very full life before you arrived in it, as I hope you will whether or not you have children.  But now it seems like you have always been with me, and I can’t imagine life without you.  It’s not all sunshine and daisies – your tantrums are not sources of joy for your Daddy and I – and there are moments when I really wish I could accept that last minute dinner invitation, or run down to Missoula to the Farmer’s Market with my Hot Buns, or hop a last minute flight to the beach.  It would be lying to claim otherwise.


I recommend a serve-yourself, decorate-it-yourself-cupcake-bar, if you’re a lazy Mom like me who doesn’t care much about a mess.  Or the fact that my 2 year old may or may not have eaten five cupcakes over the course of the afternoon.  The cupcake bar was Pseudo Sista’s project: well done!  Delicious fun — the kiddos loved it.

But dinner parties and childless flights aside, each morning I start my day with your sweet, sleepy smile, as I part the blinds and reveal the amazing bird’s nest that your hair nightly transforms itself into.  And there’s the delight in introducing you to the pleasures of fried shrimp, coconut anything, and honey straight out of the hive.  And the wonder in your eyes when you noticed the moon for the first time, low on the afternoon horizon as the sun blazed.  And the pride on your generally dirty face when you grasped the concept of puzzles, and spoons, and how to drive the Cozy Coupe that Big Mama rescued from the dump.


A birthday wish from your Uncle How.  How I wish you could meet.

Maggie, until your birth, I spent so much of my life as a Big Picture person, which is not a bad thing.  I’m one who likes plans and goals and big decisions.  But these last two years of minutiae, examining lilac blossoms and honeybees and pebbles and tiny toes with you, has been a wildly beautiful time for me.  Thank you, Maggie Rose.

2013.  Glacier County Honey Co.   Some photo credits to Nancy Stone and Dawn Rauscher.  All Rights Reserved.