It's that time of year again when we throw everyone and everything into the car and drive for 7+ hours to our place in New York and put on Thanksgiving Dinner amidst constant interruptions by a 2 year old and everyone else.
I love cooking Thanksgiving Dinner. It's always a challenge for me to make sure everything is ready at the same time and, believe me, I've gotten it down to a science. I like these kinds of challenges. Other challenges, not so much - like shopping for the items on my grocery list that, unfurled, winds once around the grocery store and back again.
OK...this may come as a shock to some of you, but I hate going to the grocery store. By the time I get to the last aisle, I'm about ready to leave the cart and walk out. When you think of the whole process, it's a complete work out. You go in there, grab a cart, load everything in, double back again for the things you missed, stand in line, run back to the dairy department for the sour cream, get back in line and thank the man who held your spot, load everything onto the conveyor belt, do your own bagging because Selma just had to have a cigarette break before someone got hurt, load the bags back into the cart, truck them out to the car where they are LOADED INTO THE CAR, drive home where they are LOADED INTO THE HOUSE (and no one is ever around to help with that), and then put everything away.
Most of the time, on these long shopping forays, I just want to stand in the middle of an aisle and scream "I can't do this anymore!" at the top of my lungs until someone calls an ambulance and takes me away for that long awaited rest in a softly padded room with a warm blanket. Which makes me wonder about nervous breakdowns.
Over the years, I've heard a handful of people say, "Oh that was before my breakdown," or, "Well, you know," as they speak in hushed tones, "that was after her nervous breakdown and after that whole breast implant thing and then she decided that she was really a he and, my GOD, what do you do with those large breasts now? She was better off before the Pamela Anderson makeover. Talk about back to the drawing board..."
I mean, how does someone have a nervous breakdown? What is it anyway? Standing 1/4" away from the wall, talking to yourself, nervously waiting for the walls to open up and swallow you whole? I don't know. Perhaps I don't want to know. But, occasionally, trying to prepare for big events seems to bring me close to the brink of making friends with the wall or the string that's hanging from my sleeve.
And, so, this Thanksgiving, we'll fill the car with groceries, a 2 1/2 year old, a bunch of toys, aspirin, Tylenol and a flask of Vodka. We'll drive 7 hours, stopping only to give the little one time to stretch his legs and allow me to run quickly for a bathroom break. We'll load ourselves back into the car amidst howls from the 2 1/2 year old who thought we were THERE and is now about to have a nervous breakdown of his own. We'll arrive Tuesday night somewhere around midnight and the sleeping 2 1/2 year old will think it's morning when we UNLOAD THE CAR and we'll have to give him a good 30 minutes to check the place out again, remark about the laundry room (because he loves laundry), turn on and off the ceiling fan, have a quick snack and, amidst further howls, Nimmy will CART him off and LOAD him into bed and pray he falls asleep soon.
Thanksgiving is about a lot of CARTING, LOADING and UNLOADING and an occasional NERVOUS BREAKDOWN. But the best part of Thanksgiving is being with family, seeing their beautiful faces, their warm smiles, hearing their laughter, doling out hugs and eating like there's no tomorrow. It's about a fire in the wood stove, and stories that we've heard over and over again. It's about playing games that only a toddler loves but games that bring the rest of us back to the basics of life, reminding us that life really is simple. It is what we make of it. It's not nervous breakdown-worthy - it's special, it's wonderful, it's a gift. And family is the biggest part of it.
Now, where's my grocery list? I've got to color my hair. What will I wear? How much will my husband and I bicker on the way? Is this sore throat going to be gone by the time we leave on Tuesday? I'm hungry. I'm crazy. I'm having a nervous breakdown....
Happy Thanksgiving, with love, to you and yours. - Maggie
Copyright 2010 liamsgrandma
