Guest post by the dayton time
So my mother has decided that she is going to be the Thanksgiving Hostess this year. Her house is located in the same quaint little village as ours, and it is for sale. Although I keep wondering if her Realtor remembers the freaking house is up for sale, because she never shows it. There's a contingency offer on my mother's house, and I guess that's good enough for the Realtor.
My mother doesn't really cook any more, since the father figure left her seven years ago, and all of us have since moved out, and, well, why cook for one? She doesn't invite us over for dinner unless one of my brothers are in town, and then it's A GREAT BIG SHOW of FAMILY and LOVE and STUFF!!!!!
She wants to hostess Thanksgiving because she might never get to have Thanksgiving again. This makes my eyes get all squinchy, and my teeth clench, and my head begin to shake back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, like the crazy stalker mommy in that horrible book everyone gives you when you become a mama. (Don't even tell me she's not crazy. All I have to say is this: she straps a LADDER to her CAR to climb up to her GROWN SON'S ROOM to ROCK HIS ADULT ASS whilst he sleeps. Crazy.) She's just moving to another town, for flip's sake.
And this Thanksgiving? Is Cutie Pie Dimple Head's second birthday. And this? Is Cutie Pie Dimple Head just hours after his birth. And yes, my boobs were bigger than his head. I like this picture of me because the angle of my face shadows/disguises/who cares what you call it, all my preggie facial rolls aren't there. Due to the circumstances, I think I should be the one who gets to decide about Thanksgiving. After all, the child was about the same size as the turkey we'll be serving to eight adults and three children, oh yes he was, I remember, and I feel it is my right, as resident Child The Size Of A Turkey Pusher-Outer, to call dibs on Thanksgiving at my house.
I did not get to spend that day at my home two years ago. In fact, I believe we celebrated Thanksgiving at my mother's house that year (DC-area brother was home), and last year we ate at my in-laws' house, so it's my turn anyway.
And it's my kid's birthday, for flip's sake.
Here's what will happen if we tell my mother Thanksgiving is at our house: she will insist on making the turkey. Not a big deal, right? Except for my mother likes to eat holiday dinners at Not Dinner Time, you know, around 2 in the afternoon. Hear that sound? It's the mommy buzzer going off, and why? Because all good children who value their general state of being ought to be taking naps at 2 in the afternoon. And pregnant women like me? Ought to be taking naps, and two o'clock is just as good a time as any, because, duh! the three kiddos are asleep, so it just makes sense.
This is how it will go:
If you tell your mother you are having Thanksgiving at your house, she'll tell you she wants to cook the turkey.
You'll tell her dinner's at five.
So she'll put the turkey in the oven at 8:15 a.m. And the turkey will be done around 1:30.