By that, I mean that I never seem to feel at a loss for a good story that is inspired by my family’s daily activity. It’s late here, approaching, oh, 9:15 pm. Yes, that’s late. Every year older that I get, “late” gets earlier and earlier. And with a newborn in the house, the baby and I party together every morning around 3 am, which makes the 9 pm hour feel just desperate.
Anyway. I’m sitting here with the baby, who has been fed, diapered, coo’d to and cuddled, yet still insists on fighting sleep, becoming agitated every 75 seconds. I am not-so-patiently waiting for Bob to get home from a firehouse meeting so that I can be relieved for at least a few minutes to, oh, I don’t know… do something luxurious… like peeing by myself. Sad, but true.
As I wait, I am giggling away at the Thanksiving Hilarity over on NickMom.com. I love NickMom for a few different reasons… I love the FUNNY and REAL moms and their stories and blogs… I also love that time each night when the kids’ programming turns OFF for the evening and NickMom begins. On those nights when Lily is up past her bedtime and happens to be watching Nick, she’ll voluntarily peel herself from television watching with a loud, “OH MAN. My shows are OVER. Now it’s just tv-f0r-mom time.” Ha!
There is a TON of FUNNY over at NickMom – but check out two of my favorites. I think they’re my favorites because, at least in my house, they are so true:
And now for a little tale of Thanksgiving madness, as only my family can provide.
Growing up, my mom and my aunt would usually take turns cooking and hosting each holiday meal. My aunt often cooked Christmas, my mom would take Thanksgiving and Easter was usually a toss up. When it was our turn to host, we tended to serve the meal around lunchtime. That’s all fine and good until you realize that the massive (and stuffed) turkey needs to go in the oven at around 3 am if you plan to sit down and feast by noon.
So. One fine Thanksgiving Eve many moons ago, I had returned home from the annual pep rally, bonfire, harvest dance at my high school. I remember coming home in a good mood – I had had a great time with friends and the next few days would be a break from school. I looked forward to sleeping in the next morning and had little else on my agenda than stuffing my face with apple pie and watching a parade or two. I settled in for a cozy night’s rest.
And cozy I was! Until about 3:30 am, when I remember waking to the smell of turkey cooking. “Mmmm.. turkey’s in the oven… cool….” I thought, as I drifted back to bed. Just about an hour later, I woke again. I smelled turkey at first. Then I realized that the air felt a little too thick with turkey fumes. I snapped the light on and noticed that either a creepy ghostly fog had rolled through the house OR (and much more likely) my home was filling with smoke.
Fearing the latter, I made my way downstairs to my parent’s room. I woke up my mom and said, “I think they house is on fire.” She replied, “Oh, that’s just the fat dripping off the turkey. Totally normal.” But when I informed her that it was getting difficult to see my hand in front of my face, fortunately she agreed that it might be smart to investigate.
What happened next is a blur – perhaps because it was so long ago… perhaps my memory is still singed from the turkey fumes. But I can tell you this – my mom started screaming for my dad to “get his ass out out bed,” my dad dove into the oven (which had flames shooting out of it at this point) and managed to SAVE the TURKEY! My mom raced upstairs for the fire extinguisher and my dad dowsed the oven and the sparkly just-polished floor with fire-retardant foam.
It was probably approaching 6 am by the time the flames were put out – and that’s about the time that my mom called my aunt and told her to “fire up the oven because Rick is on his way with the turkey.” My dad drove the turkey across town to his sister’s house and she cooked it the rest of the way, since our oven was now out of commission.
My dad returned home, re-polished the kitchen floor until it shined and then we all sat wide-eyed and frazzled, staring at each other while a parade on tv droned on somewhere in the background. At some point, my aunt, uncle and cousins arrived, turkey in hand, and we feasted and even laughed a little about the turkey inferno. That Thanksgiving was almost 20 (OMG) years ago and it will always remain one of the most memorable. And all these years later, when it’s my turn to host the holiday meal, and the meat of choice happens to be a turkey, I deem it a success if my oven refrains from shooting flames. Totally normal, right?
And because it’s Throwback Thursday and also because the Great Turkey Fire of ’95 occurred before the advent of smartphones so there is sadly no footage of the inferno, I wanted to share some not-so-old Thanksgiving pictures. Last year Lily’s preschool had a little turkey day feast and the parents were invited to come and help. When we arrived, we found that all of the kids were wearing Native American headbands that they had made in class. Apparently they also got to choose their name. I found out that I was mother to “Floating Leaf.” So proud.
I then got the awesome news that the mom volunteers would all get to share in the dress up fun… and that we, in fact, would be pilgrims. I know, I know… I really know how to rock a bonnet.
We shared laughter and song… and then Chief Floating Leaf and I enjoyed some feast. 🙂