Here's to You

Cheers on this hectic pre-feast Wednesday. I raise my glass of virtual Chardonnay to those of you out there who, like me, don't hold Thanksgiving as one of your very favorite holidays. Instead, since late childhood I've thought of the day as an overflowing cornocopia of barely suppressed dysfunction, passive-aggression and tears. 

It's mostly the same now that I'm an adult, except that since I play the eldest child/good girl role, I'll also be cooking the turkey and baking the pies and cleaning the house.

Here's a picture of my Lily on her first Thanksgiving. We were at my parents house.  As a new mom and dutiful daughter, I'm sure I was stressed and anxious, but frankly it all blurs together. My choice of bib speaks volumes: "Are These People Really My Relatives?"

Also, this may be the only documented occasion of my daughter eating sweet potatoes. She certainly won't do that now. 

But I am thankful that my historically finicky eater will allow turkey, cranberries (canned) and mashed potatoes onto her plate and into her mouth. And thankful that she's still my little big sweet potato of a girl.

And I am thankful for my funny, sensitive son, who is not living out my same childhood dramas, forcing his natural empathy and kind heart into overdrive. Instead, he'll play with his cousin and love on his family members, even those he only sees once or twice a year.

And so thankful for my awesome, patient husband, who is as much my partner on Turkey Day in the kitchen as he is every other day of the year. And who will bend an ear or two or three when I vent about it all, the day after.

Really, I just want to get to the part with the pecan pie.