Twenty six days to be exact.
No clue on the number of hours, I'm too lazy to do the math, you can do it if you wish.
I'm going to be an abuela, a grandmother, an Oma, a ya-ya, a grand-mere, a babushka.
I've been making preparations: flight plans, mailing packages containing baby goodies, trying to figure out what type of assignments to leave the kiddos at work while I'm away practicing my Oma skills.
I've also done a little sewing, for Daughter.
I pulled out the old Kenmore from its hiding place, hoping that all the parts were still intact...it's been a while.
I was concerned I might not remember how to thread it. But it was like riding a bicycle.
It's a good thing the threading pattern wasn't anything complicated, don't know how well that would've gone.
The old Kenmore is just a plain-jane, solid, basic sewing machine. No fancy stitches, just enough to get the job done.
So many memories came flooding back when I put the fabric under the presser foot.
Memories of sewing my back-to-school wardrobe when I was twelve and each subsequent summer until I graduated from college; of Easter and Christmas dresses for Daughter when she was a toddler; of pulling out zippers and seams that weren't quite straight enough to suit my OCDness; of Husband buying this old relic when we were newlyweds so I could sew for my children. And now, my grandchildren.
Old Kenny had served me well. I'll keep him around, no need to get all high tech when old school will do just fine.