November 27, 2009

Hit and Run Thanksgiving

It happens every holiday: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter. . .

My Mom or I slave in the kitchen and then people arrive, usually late. They grab a plate, eat, and within two hours tops, they are gone. The majority of the clean-up is left behind. My sister and her boyfriend have to hit both families and my sister's boyfriend was also on call and forgot his digital password thing at home. They were there for an hour. My grandparents never make it to dessert. My Pop-Pop doesn't like to drive in the dark and he doesn't like to go to the bathroom at other people's houses. Sometimes, if they come to my kids' birthday parties, they ask me for a piece of cake before the girls even blow out the candles. I started making cupcakes for that very reason.

Yesterday was absolute insanity. Dinner was supposed to be at 2 p.m. Because Mr. BBM and I were, once again, in IKEA-putting-something-together-yet-again hell, we didn't arrive until 1:30. We thought we would be last but we were first. Next, my grandparents arrived. An hour later, my sister and her boyfriend walked in.

My sister started making some brown butter sage sauce for lobster ravioli she brought and splattered stuff all over my Mom's stove. My Mom is like a absolute perfectionist when it comes to her stove. When I lived there, she didn't even want me to clean it. It is probably the cleanest surface in the entire house. I could tell she was stressed.

Then my sister's boyfriend started making horrible noises. Apparently he has serious sinus congestion and I'm not quite sure he knows how to blow his nose. I volunteered to sit in the kitchen with the girls to eat. I didn't think my stomach could take listening to someone snort and eat their own mucus. Little did I know that he would come running out to the bathroom, right off the kitchen, only to make horrible barfing noises in there. My Mom and I just looked at each other with horror. She was also at the kids table. I asked her to please pass the wine. We both refilled our glasses.

By 4 p.m. my Mom was cutting desserts "to go" for people and they were out the door; my sister forgot her cake on the table so Lil C ate it.

I helped my Mom clean up the plates and the kitchen. She still hadn't even eaten her salad.

I think that when I host Christmas this year, I'm going to tell people to come in the morning and refuse to feed them until 7 p.m. Christmas is even worse. It's like a tornado hit my family room with gift wrap and ribbon everywhere. It's exhausting.

So last night, we stayed at my Mom's house until almost midnight. We played games, picked on my Dad, as is the status quo at any holiday, and we ended up having a great time despite the flurry that was from 2-4 p.m.

When I was a little girl, the actual holiday days seemed to go so slowly. I have such good memories of them. I hope that when my girls grow up, they don't remember the holidays as the hit and run they have become.

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