That is the Hallmark version of it, anyway. In my reality, Thanksgiving is a little different. A little more...chaotic.
It's filled with mobs of children running willy-nilly through the house, parents yelling at them to go play outside, children grousing that they are bored outside, competing chefs who want to take control of the kitchen and make dinner THEIR way, and grumbly family members who, egos bruised, retire to the TV room in protest, vowing not to help at all. It's a good time.
I managed to come out unscathed, although other family members were not so lucky. No one lets me cook, so I volunteered my services wherever else they were needed--making dip, washing glasses, setting the table. I fed the hungry child-mob snacks when they were hungry, shepherding them outside and out of Chef Grandma's way. I kept their hungry dogs at bay, and their littlest cousin under control, so they all walked away from the snack sated, but not full.
Our meal was fabulous, one of the best my mom has ever served! My nephew Johnny requested gravy on his turkey, then cried because he immediately regretted that decision. He refused to eat anything until all foods containing or touching the offensive gravy were removed from his plate.
My niece Nathalie (aka Nathalie the Carnivore) scarfed down at least three or four servings of turkey. I don't know where she puts it, but every time I turned around, she was handing me her plate for more.
My nephew Grant couldn't stop praising the meal, proclaiming it was the best chicken he's ever had. We laughed at that, and reminded him it was actually turkey, so he amended his statement to, "This turkey is CRAZY GOOD!" He was hilarious.
My other niece, Gabi, spends her days dreaming of hot chicken wings. So she was thrilled when my mom presented her with the ultimate hot wing--a turkey wing! She was in heaven with her wing and bottle of Red Hot.
Mark enjoyed his meal, too. He announced the yams were his favorite, although he was more partial to the melted marshmallows on top. He also changed his vote to pie once dessert was served, tossing aside any pretense of including a vegetable as his favorite dish.
The adults were pretty happy, too. We savored the food, laughed at the kids, and joked with each other until my mom made us stop. (Apparently, our idea of appropriate differs vastly from hers.)
Gabi then regaled us with Thanksgiving Day trivia. We learned that one woman petitioned multiple U.S. Presidents for more than 30 years to make Thanksgiving a national holiday. I was impressed, and asked what her name was, but Gabi answered, "I don't know." So Nathalie named her Brenda, and we thanked Brenda in absentia.
We'd used my mom's best dishes, which she deemed okay for the children to eat from, but not to clear from the table. The kids were thrilled to be relieved of their duty, and ran off to play.
I was in the biggest tryptophan stupor a while later, fading into a turkey coma, when I yawned. It was cold and dark outside, and I was ready for bed. Until...I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 5:48. Not even 6 o'clock and I was ready to turn in. Now THAT'S the sign of a good meal!
It turned out to be a pretty good day for everyone but my poor, exhausted mom, who worked so hard. She ended her night with a pie plate in hand, marching off to her room, announcing that she hates the holidays.
Which doesn't bode well for Christmas...looks like we might have pizza for dinner this year if she has anything to say about it...
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