I have to say that yesterday’s Thanksgiving was a great success. The only near disaster came when I dropped 1/3 of the pan drippings on the floor, but rescued the hot pan before dumping the whole thing. I made the traditional stuff, including this coma-inducing cake:
I woke up at 5:30AM and made apple pie, then I called Kealoha to help the turkey give birth. Seriously. That bag stuffed in the turkey’s belly just makes me think of birthing. It didn’t help that Kealoha massaged the turkey, calming it down saying, “Who’s the yummy turkey? YOU are” and then he pulled the bag out. We didn’t stuff the bird so the cooking time would be reduced. Also, I didn’t want to put my hand in the turkey’s ‘private area’. It just makes me uncomfortable.
Then the kids’ dad dropped them off for a few hours (even though he officially had them for the holiday). That ended up being a mixed blessing. My daughter (5) was super excited about all the activity, but my son (7) just can’t handle quick transitions, and he gets overwhelmed with too many people. He’s like this big bundle of emotion that he can’t control. He threw a gigantic fit, got a time-out, punched the wall, called me a Fat Bitch, and then peed in his bedroom. It’s like dealing with an angry puppy that happens to know English. Obviously, we need to help him with these feelings. We’re just trying to figure out how. For now, I know that even a quick transition from his dad’s house to ours just isn’t possible. He needs time to cool down. So, poor guy spent the day in the basement…and just as he’d acclimated to all the commotion, it was time for him to go to his dad’s.
Kealoha’s family (mom, dad, grandma, brother and sister-in-law) joined us, as did my mom. Since half of those in attendance were hard of hearing and/or full of much-needed wine, there was a lot of loud talking. My cooking started out great (moist turkey, allowed to rest for ½ an hour) but as Kealoha’s brother kept filling my wine glass, I sorta started on the slippery slope of drunken cooking. (Hence the dropped drippings.)
Dinner conversation began with memories, and then slipped into several people giving very detailed information about surgeries and infections. (Kealoha’s dad just had back surgery and is stapled-up.) I get freaked out by discussions of illness, especially when they begin with things like “It was the worst infection I’ve ever had! I mean, you wouldn’t BELIEVE what it looked like!”
I wanted to change the conversation so I started to say “Well, when I gave birth”….but STOPPED myself from adding “And my vagina split open”. I figured that might cross the humor-line.
Then the kids went back to their dad’s (my son did come out of the basement eventually, apologize, and give hugs and high-fives), then my mom and Kealoha’s family left. We had twenty minutes of silence before the next shift arrived. In came my sister, wearing scrubs. She’s a nurse working in a super-stressful trauma/recovery ward. (Anyone know of a less-stressful job opening in Grand Rapids for a nurse?) She shared with us some gruesome stories of infections also, and then we made her change her clothes, and drink some much-needed-wine also (in the form of mai tais.)
And if I can remember the conversations we had, I’ll write it down. It involved my sister doing a creepy imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger crossed with Christopher Walken, and something about turkey balls that involved a crude gesture and the gobble-gobble sound.
Kealoha and I are now recovering.
Actually, to be perfectly honest, this was one of the best Thanksgivings I’ve ever had.