This will be my ninth year hosting
Thanksgiving for a large crowd. Ninth year. Every year I promise
myself I will not stress. I will plan better. I will start earlier.
I will, something…..
This year we moved, twice, and now my son is having significant problems in preschool,
and I work part-time, and all of a sudden I turn around and
Thanksgiving is a week and a half away. A week and a half away. I
have ordered a very large turkey and discovered that I have no idea
where my recipe folder is. Good times!
Look, I know the holidays are supposed to be filled with the wonderment
of cinnamon and vanilla smells throughout your home and the laughter
and love of family and friends. But really, does anyone who HOSTS the
holidays feel this way? And if you do, how? Other than Xanax and
I'm not trying to complain. It's lovely that my son has both sets
of grandparents alive and that our sisters come and everyone gets to be
together. It is, and I am not trying to trivialize that. I just don't
remember the last time I ate on Thanksgiving. Oh wait, it was 10 years
ago, before I started hosting it.
Instead of writing this blog post I should be looking for my recipe
folder. Or trying to recreate it. Or making shopping lists or cooking
lists or some other kind of list. Or maybe try to convince my husband
that one of those boxed pick up and go Thanksgiving dinners REALLY IS
the way to go.
I suggested that to my husband one year and his
response to me was "I don't know what you are talking about.
Thanksgiving is not that hard." Yes, the fight that ensued was epic.
And yes, IT REALLY IS THAT HARD THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
I think I will procrastinate just a little bit longer.