- make puns
- project their voices
- be the last one standing
- make fun of each other
- cook and/or bake
- keep on smiling
- look adorable
When I first saw Nephew Garvin this weekend, he smiled, made a gurgly/cooing sound, and reached his tiny hand out and put it on my cheek.
My heart and my uterus skipped a beat.
After spending more time with him, I discovered two things he’s reeeeeeeeally into:
1) grabbing things (everything) and putting them into his mouth to suck on, and
2) feeling people’s faces.
I feel way less special.
My grandfather is a retired professional baker. He came to Thanksgiving dinner and brought large amounts of goodies. This day was awesome.
Tomorrow = homemade cinnamon roll and coffee for breakfast. It’s going to be magical.
My brother is a turkey baby. He was born on a Thanksgiving day back when my dad still had most of his hair. This is awesome for me because, hey! Birthday cake at Thanksgiving dinner! But man, do I feel bad for him. Imagine all you people who hate that Christmas overshadows your birthday, having all the food preparation and house cleaning and house guests, but none of the presents, overshadowing the anniversary of your birth. The dude gets pushed aside for the pilgrims and pumpkin pie. So sad. And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, our younger cousin was born on my brother’s birthday, which happened to fall on Thanksgiving that year, too, 17 years after my brother. So now, the poor guy has had to share birthday cakes and spotlights with the little dude who steals all the attention. The birthday gods did not smile kindly upon my poor dear brother. Except that every few years, his birthday and Thanksgiving fall on the same day and he gets to celebrate a hybrid holiday I like to call ThanksBirthGiving Day, which sounds like it belongs in an episode of HIMYM.
So, DotCom, I hope that today is a very happy ThanksBirthGiving Day. And that your baby takes all of his naps and will stop being sick as a ThanksBirthGiving Day Miracle slash gift to you.
My parents’ house is frighteningly clean and my mother is still chopping things in the kitchen and muttering to herself at 11pm. This is how Thanksgiving horror movies start.
(Oh Dear Sweet Lord, please don’t let that creepy eyeless victorian doll she has be her instrument of death. I am scared it will try to suck my soul into its eye sockets.)
Shortly after arriving at my parent’s house, I started to walk toward my bedroom…
Mom: I put a doll in your room
Me: Is it a scary doll?
Mom: It was my grandma’s. I’m going to give it to your Aunt Pam…
runs out of bedroom
Me: YOU LIED! THAT IS A VERY SCARY DOLL!!!!
Dad: I didn’t lie
Me: No, but she did!
Mom: It’s not scary.
Me: IT HAS NO EYES!
Mom: Yes, it does, they just fell out. They’re inside her head. Listen, you can hear them in there.
Me: NOT. HELPING.
Some parents turn their child’s room into a home gym. Or a study. My mother uses mine to store creepy, eyeless porcelain dolls from the early 1900s. Of course.
This is what my family will most likely make/serve/eat for Thanksgiving
- Prime Rib (mostly for my Grandpa. I’m not sure if he eats any other meats. Pretty sure it’s just prime rib)
- mashed potatoes and gravy
- cranberry sauce (for my mom, and probably only my mom)
- yams with mini marshmallows
- sweet potato pie (a specialty of my sister-in-law’s)
- green bean casserole
- pineapple casserole
- a jello mold
- homemade rolls (thank you, Grandpa, the retired baker)
- waldorf salad
- a grape, marshmallow, fruit salad whose name eludes me
- various pies
- birthday cake
We are not having it at my aunt’s house this year, which means we will miss out on her homemade Italian Spaghetti Bolognese. Major bummer.
4 of those dishes will most likely include mini marshmallows.
Yes, there will be three kinds of meat.
My brother was born on Thanksgiving. This explains the birthday cake. His birthday falls on the holiday again this year. Even if it didn’t, his birthday would be right around the corner, and there would be family around…which sounds like cake time to meeeeeeeee. And if I know my mother, and I think I do, there will also be party hats.
And of course, there will be a veggie platter. Because it’s not a holiday until I put black olives on all of my fingers and pretend they are members of the royal guard who get into a squabble and meet their doom (in my mouth)!
The inevitable procrastination by the Garvin women (like mother, like daughter) means that last minute frustration and slight panic will also be served. These are dishes best served hot.
The best part is that there is going to be a delicious baby at the table and I am going to just eat him all up.
My brother tweeted me that he shall call me Grizz and I shall call him DotCom. I, of course, inquired who was Tracy in this situation. He said he didn’t know; he just thought it would be fun! He is my older brother. My older brother, who has a child, is suggesting we call each other the names of two characters from a TV show that have we have zero in common with. Just for fun.
That being said, I hope DotCom and I can get matching blue tooth earpieces next time I’m home!
P.S. I am fairly certain I used that semicolon correctly up in there. Boosh!